Archive for June, 2009

I Kill Giants

There are a lot of stigmas surrounding comics.   More often than not, people have pre-concieved notions about what and how a comics is.  They get this idea of superhero comics and bebcome dismissive.  They don’t understand that when you take away the “Super” dressing, and get to the heart of the “Hero”, what you have is a story about people.   In reading Joe Kelly’s I Kill Giants, I am reminded not only of what comics truly are, but what they can be.

IKGWallpaper01

I Kill Giants is the story of a precocious little girl named Barbara who spends her life preparing to hunt and kill Giants.  Her obsession is so singular that she blocks out everyone around her, from the mundanes that surround her in school to the family that loves her, despite their broken home.  But Barbara doesn’t care about people; Barabara just wants to kill Giants. Together with her legendary war hammer Covaleski, she plans to end the lives of Giants no matter how powerful.   And yet no one else seems concerned that the monster may come.  To them, she’s just a strange girl with a bizarre fascination with mythology.   Maybe she is.   And it seems that no one can get through the wall of calloused cynicism she’s built around her heart, until one day a new school psychologist and a new neighbor named Sophia walk into her life.  Combined with the arrival of a new school bully named Taylor, Barbara’s life is sent spiraling through a course of events that she may not survive, or even want to.

I won’t pretend I’m entirely certain what happended in the strictest sense of this story.   There is a stark contrast painted between the “real” world that Barbara is forced to tolerate and the magic world in which she lives.   In the end, it doesn’t matter.  The answer to that question is not nearly as important to Barbara’s story as you may first imagine.   On one level it appears to be the story of a child escaping into her imagination to avoid the harshness of her reality.  And yet at times it seems to be about her stuggle to slay the monsters which only she can see and defeat.   But it’s both… and it’s neither.

I won’t ruin the book by defining it.   But Barbara’s journey will enthrall you.  Her tortured, brilliant young mind will empathize with you.  Her fights with Giants will astound you.  And her plight will reduce you to tears.  And you will fear for Barbara, but don’t worry… she’s stronger than she thinks she is.

I Kill Giants is exemplary of the kind of complex writing that comics are capable of, and achieve more often than society believes.    It’s a story about life.  And a story about people.

IKGWallpaper04

Advertisements

The Dirty Thirty

There are certain milestones in everyone’s life.   We attach a special significance to certain birthdays.

The 1st birthday is more about the parents than the kids.  Generally they’re still happy to discover they have feet at that point.   Your 13th birthday is  proof that you’re growing up. You’re a teen now.  Woo. Hoo.   Sweet 16 is about freedom. You can drive now.  You can leave the nest, making it much easier to have sloppy, drunken teen sex.   18 is graduation and 21 is the official age of adulthood and drinking… even though you’ve probably been at it for about 8 years at that point.

But all of that pales in comparison to the dreaded, dirty 30.

The Dirty Thirty takes you from the wonderous state of adulthood of 21 having one foot in the grave.  Suddenly you’re 3-0.  You’re old!  You’re dying! And whereas in previous years people celebrated your birth, when it comes to 30 they spend an entire year laughing at you and asking stupid questions like

Sooooo…   THIRTY, huh?  That’s rough.  How you feel about that?

Really?  How do I feel about it?   I’ll tell you how I feel.   I don’t give a shit.   Yeah, in a month I’ll be 3 decades old.    But I’ll only be one day closer to death than I was the day before.

Besides, for all that age robs of you in time, the one thing it provides is burdgeoning fearlessness.   Youth is for the birds, you see.  But I am the finest of wines; I only get better with age.

Mine will be the dirtiest of thirties.  I plan to engage in a level of debauchery that can only be defined as a travesty.  30 shall be my year of recknoning and wreckage.    Villages, prepare to be raped!  Women, get ready to be plundered!  Boats will sink!   Cities will raze to the ground!  Children will shit their pants!

It should be quite a decade.

Untenable Me

Stop.

Just, just stop.

Every word you speak. Every time you look in my direction. Even just hearing you say my name… I want you more.

I don’t know if its infatuation or crush or unmitigated passion and desire, but a part of me needs you. Foolishly, I don’t believe its the getting with you as much as the being with you that concerns me.

Proximity is the villain here. It’s not just that fucking intoxicating scent that you have. I can literally feel when you’re in the room. And just like that, BAM, I’m on edge. My nerves are on fire in all the best ways for all the wrong reasons. Madness. This is madness.

216074680_o

You know don’t you? Are you that devious, or that naive?

Lust_by_Violator3Stolen glances across a room. My devoted attention, hanging on your every word as I stare into those gorgeous brown eyes. I focus on your lips, thinking about what it would be like to kiss them. Imagine taking you in my arms. Kissing you. Kissing you all over. And then you smile. YOU SMILE! And it’s everything I can do to keep from tearing every. last. stitch. from your skin and taking you there on the floor. I try to focus as you go on about your day, but in between each word, in the spaces between every breath, every heartbeat– I get these flashes of us. Of you whisperin my name in my ear. Of sweat and fingers and limbs and touching. Breaths of you and I in intense heat. Trysts. Sex. Love making. FUCK.  That’s what this is.  Lust.

bms004030

And there you go looking beautiful. Reminding me you’re taken when I just want to take you. Running circles in my mind. And I can’t breathe. It’s too warm in this room. This collar is too tight. I feel like I want to claw my own skin off.

lust-1

Just stop it.

Stop.

Enough of this.

No Compromise, No Surrender

I’ve never been the kind of man that follows others. Maybe it’s the stubborn Sicilian in me.  I do not believe in accepting the world as it is.  Nor do I accept a concept as truth based on the person who speaks it.  I have been called arrogant, condescending, intolerable and all manner of half-wit insults.

It is not enough to say “this is truth because I say it is so.”   It is unacceptable to allow wrongs because the rights do not come easy.

The reality is that the world will make you bend.  Compromise is inevitabile.  What matters is that you never compromise who you are, or what you believe.  For when  you do, you are lost.

They’ll come at you hard and fast from directions you cannot fathom.  But you must not break.  At times you may waver and falter, but you do not fall, you do not break.

Never accept easy answers.

Never allow others to determine who you are.

Never shirk personal responsibility.

Never allow fear to control you.

No compromise.

No surrender.

Get Naked!!

In spite of my Roman Catholic upbringing, I do not subscribe to the theory that sex and sexuality are shameful.  Horseshit.   Nor do I believe the human body is something we should be ashamed of, though that’s something I struggle with just as much as anyone.  We shouldn’t be afraid of nudity.  It doesn’t make you vulnerable. It’s who you are.

Less than a year ago, a girl I know from Oregon informed me that she would be getting naked this June for the World Naked Bike Ride.   I was intrigued… at first because she was talking about herself naked, but later at the thought of the event.

Apparently the WNBR is this event that occurs in 70 locations throughout the globe.   It’s a bunch of hippies who shed their clothes and don bicycles to spread awarness about cyclist safety, energy consumption and  the size of their genitals.

I’m not reallydown with the message.  I don’t have a problem with hippies as long as they keep their political and –marajuanical– opinions to themselves. And yet I am bemused at the thought.  Naked fleshy apendages are bemusing.

I really wanted to do it this year, but circumstances would not permit.  But after hearing a first person account of the event, I am more driven than every to pop wheelies and woodies in Oregon next year.

“Do you really think you could get naked in front of all those people?”  a friend asked.   Absolutely.  It’s scary, but doable.   That said, I may try to get hold of some viagra or cialis beforehand.  Mine is not a “show-penis”.

It has, however, some of the qualities of a stunt penis.

You may ask why someone like me would do something like this.  It’s like sky diving without the whole “falling to your death” part.  It’s about facing your fears.   Once you’ve waved your penis (or flashed your ‘gyna) around a major American city going ten miles an hour, you’ve got bragging rights.

You get to say “I did this.”  Something only a handful of people have ever done.  Something very few people would ever do.

At the very least, I figure my odds of scoring with some drunk hippie chick are increased when we’re both naked and pulsing with adrenaline.

Cool Mountain Scottish

For a short time I lived in Arizona.

I spent a semester at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff.

Flagstaff_NAU_Skydome

In the center of NAU sits the bookstore and the post office.   And in that bookstore works a woman.  I don’t know her name or where she’s from.  Truth be told I don’t even remember her face.   But everyday at 11:00, she plays the bagpipes.

It’s not something you ever expect to hear.  And it may be something you never hear.  But I was in the right place at the right time one day.   And there she was, in plain clothes on her lunch break with only her bagpipes and a turkey sandwich, seated on the side of the bookstore.   Most people walked right past her.   Some gave her bizarre looks as they went.  But still she played.

Not me though.  Along with a few others, I listened as she played the slow, soulful music of the Scots.   There’s a story there, I’m sure.   Something brilliant.  Maybe tragic.  But I never asked.  Every day, or as often as possible, I would sit for a minute and listen to her song.

She’s probably still out there, next to a brown brick building, playing her song.

bagpipes

No Voice for Americans

On my way back home just now, I turned on Sean Hannity as I often do.   In listening, I discovered that Miss California, Carrie Prejean, had been stripped of her crown.  I won’t bore you with the back-story, but if you’d like it, feel free to read here first.  Suffice it to say that Carrie Prejean’s story is a tale of warning to us all.  It is definitive illustration of how the media runs our lives.

carrie_prejean_medium

As mentioned in the previous post, I disagree with Ms Prejean’s opinions on gay marriage.  Yet I am appalled at the treatment she has recieved as a result of giving an honest, polite and well-spoken answer to a difficult question she should NEVER have been asked in the first place.   Perez Hilton is part of the Nazi-esque liberal machine  that runs this nation.  He has an agenda based largely around his career, and he used Carrie Prejean to further that agenda. Because of him, Carrie was denied the Miss America crown.   Okay. Fine.  Then he goes on to attack the woman, again furthering his agenda and drawing attention to himself (which resultantly helps his career).   And of course the rest of the media can’t just let it go.   A few weeks later they attacked her for daring to have breast implants.

OH. THE FUCKING. HUMANITY.

Who would have guessed a model and beauty queen would have fake breasts?  Unheard of.   And now that this “controversy” has passed, the Miss California USA Organization has saw fit to strip her of her crown.   They gave some half-baked explanation for the firing by claiming she has not fulfilled her contractual duties as Miss California.  Come on.  Really?   She made a statement that disagrees with liberal America and the howdy-doody P.C. green-blooded world that is being tattooed onto the American landscape.   And she has paid the penalty for it.

I disagree with her opinion, but I would absolutely rally to her position.   She has a right to her opinions just as Perez Hilton does.   We used to be free to express those opinions, but it becomes clearer each day that the Second Amendment only applies to people with the “right” opinions.

Well to hell with that.   Take notice America.  You may not have a problem with seeing this woman tormented, but that’s only because it doesn’t affect you or your opinions.   But sooner or later it will happen to you.   It’s not about Right Wing or Left Wing.  Its about Power and Responsibility.    And these days I’m seeing a lot of power and not much in the way of responsibility.   And the majority of the people are not the ones with the power.  Doesn’t matter if you agree with them now, sooner or later you won’t.  And when that happens, you’ll be just another fly on the windshield.   Because if you’re not in power, in the new world regime, you are nameless.

Welcome to the New World Order, America. Hope you survive the experience.