Preview for Thursday's reading

Here's a new one before I head back to work, it'll be read tomorrow at It's A Grind.

On the Table, Under All The Mail

When I have disappeared

from every corner

of this room, and fill

another nook in Anchorage,

there will be a car sent

with a driver and champagne

and keys to an apartment

in Bethel.

If you can part

with this room,

it’s scent and scattered mice,

you’ll have enough for gas

and truck stop food.

Please don’t mind the quiet,

the driver is a mute,

and not one much for conversation.

I hope the cold

is not too much, the people

not too strange

and that you make a friend

or two, to pare the days

down, slowly and serene.

I’m sorry if the futon

gathered dust.

I wish that you could

see the sun go down

here, near the glaciers

and slip your hand

to shiver between mine.

But we are many miles

apart, and living

in the winter,

please forgive

me showing you

the snow.

A Preview of 8 Poems and A Story

Here's one poem from the collection. Recieved a lot of positive feedback, so I thought I'd share.

For more, check out "8 Poems and A Story," out now!

To A Son or Daugther, Friend or Wife

To keep the flesh, we've donned a harder steel,
but must we be so hard to everything?
Our hearts drawn on crumpled paper, quartered:
love hate will and despair, housed forever
at our worst? Must we court this disrepair?
Admirers and devotees, lovers
decided in our rancor, and our spite.
Or are we merely lost to our own streets,
to jungles of dilapidated signs?
Left falling with our hands tied by the vines
of this jungle, climbing back up the trees,
as naked apes beating our chests to death.
Should I take that steel, please forget my name.
I could not bear it falling from your lips.

Leave a comment or send a message on Facebook.

Writing update and blather.

As previously said, "8 Poems and A Story" was published this past week and is selling well. I say that, but have no gauge for this kind of stuff really. But hey, I'm pleased.

Population 1, due for sale in Autumn, is coming along very well. Al has been working like a madwoman to create pages, and so far we're at the half way mark. If this one works out, we'll be looking at hopefully a really fun run of story from here.

I'm currently laying out ideas for a follow up to both, as well as a few other stories, so here's hoping for movement in that degree as well.

Morrisoncon looms, and so project Readalotofstuff is in full swing. This past week I finished all of Jonathon Hickman's creator owned work. It's been said, and I'm late to the party at that, but Nightly News is a masterpiece. Alike to stuff like Transmetropolitan and The Invisibles, it makes you mad. It gets you thinking and makes you give a fuck. That's an ideal, not only in comics, but in writing that is extremely attractive.

I'll be re-reading The Invisibles as well, probably as much of Morrison's work as possible, so keep and ear out for me to bullshit about that.

But let's talk about comics! I'd love to talk about new titles, recommend me something and let's start giving a fuck!

First. Batch. Done.

It's with great pleasure and erections that I announce "8 Poems and A Story" has been made a reality. Thanks to Dave at Taco Comics making my pretensions a reality, and not gunning me down for my ignorance in layout, printing and assembly.

So this is the first one, the thumb to the hand.

All parties interested in ordering can be directed towards my Facespace, here and send me a massage. We'll Paypal it, or I can deliver locally.

Likewise, Population 1 steams ahead with the talents of Allison Marcellus, artist and not-beating-me-to-death-for-being-vague master. Pages are coming in and looking sharp. Can't wait to show 'em off.

But I will. And you too.

A brief bit of self promotion, and Rick Remender promotion.

Along with Dave Castro , I'll be putting out my first DIY collection of poetry and stories. Now, I know on its face it seems like a vanity move, and pretentious beyond dealing with, but my intentions are pure. I've been bogged down in negativity and whatthefuck and it's been nothing but a roadblock. So fuck it, if I can't look for publishers right now, I'll do it myself.

Check out Dave's work beyond what him and I collaborate on, he's fantastically talented, and a nice guy to boot. As I write this, I've seen the cover for my book, and heeeeere it is:

I'll be making it available online as soon as I have some, and additionally will be placing in stores as I go as well. Writers interested in possibly doing a show, please send me a message on Facebook and we'll go from there.

As far as Rick Remender, I just finished the first trade of The End League, and it touched me in ways I'll need therapy for. Great, hopeless, atmosphere, and terrific pacing.

I'm off to pick up the first batch now, so more updates as I get them.

Quick little update, things is busy.

LAST WEEK'S BUY REVIEWS:

Swamp Thing: Great!
Animal Man: Animalmantastic!
Detective Comics: Continuing disappointment, probably last issue I'll pick up.
Action Comics: Holding off a few more issues, then reading in a bunch.
Dial H: WONDERFUL.
Earth 2: Well enough written, but blows conceptually.
Before Minutemen: Darwyn Cooke was the guy for the job. A morally bankrupt project on the part of DC, but a good story from a good author.
Secret: Not as in love as I am with Manhatten Projects, but fun nonetheless.

Also bought:

Essex County: A great read. Lemire hasn't really disappointed me yet, The Nobody aside. Sweet Tooth without horror still hits just as accurately.
A Red Mass for Mars: A bit thrown around story wise. Hickman's work tends to be scattered in a manner not dissimilar to Morrison's, and it seems this one wasn't as sturdily put together as something like Transhuman or Pax Romana. Great visuals, some great concepts, but not as good as it could be.

THIS WEEK:

Before Silk Spectre: Good. Really good. I didn't give a bit of a fuck about the character before, seeing her more as a plot device than anything, but Cooke writes a great coming of age story against a superhero backdrop.
Batman: Snyder punches his way into Batman continuity, and I can't wait to see what's next.

The Shade, The Massive, Mind MGMT, and Frankenstein: Agent of S.H.A.D.E. haven't been read yet, but will be.

Also, HOLY SHIT THE BOYS. I don't follow it in weeklies, as I've come to love the way it works in trade, so this may not be news to anyone else, but Ennis does a great job of beginning the tying of loose ends. Great, heartfelt, and well written action abound.

Saw Prometheus. Gonna see it again. The whole director's cut out is a bit cheap, but I'll give it a look if only because I think it'll be a huge success.

That's right, gonna.

Until next time.

Last post I included what was the first installment of Bus Poetry. I don't know if it's a particularly novel idea, (I'm almost sure it isn't), but it functioned as an exercise, and if nothing else, a reconnection to transitory writing.

A little while back, I was without working car, and so, being beholden to two jobs, the bus won out over walking. It was on there that I fell in love with writing while moving. There is something that, it would seem, makes subjects flow easier, as there are no other real options but sitting there and stewing. Or maybe that's just how I think. I don't know. I'm not you. Anymore.

But let's pull back from crazy for a second. The point is, that there is something about the notion of movement that allows for concepts to naturally flow. I had a particularly successful run of this today, working out ideas as I came to know the greater Long Beach and Lakewood areas. And not by fucking choice, mind you, but because the ladyfriend had the car. And had to "work." Because she's "responsible." And puts up with me "sitting on a bus and waxing artistic while I don't do anything because I'm hairy and lazy."

I think we can see who's in the right there.

But outside of writing, I also took frequent breaks to read. This leads right around to this being a comic-related thing. See? There.

BUS READS:

Transhuman by Jonathon Hickman
Manara Erotica 1 by Milo Manara
Red Mass for Mars by Jonathon Hickman

Hickman is the (Hick)man. Having now finished Pax Romana, and being up to date (in trade) with his Fantastic 4, as well as following both Teeth and Manhatten Projects, I can say confidently that he's earned the FUCKING UP MY SHIT badge (which I will eventually have illustrated).

Similar in more ways than one to Grant Morrison, Hickman presents at once both the scientific and fantastic in one coherent thought. High concept as always, Transhuman takes on, in documentary form,  the evolution of transhumanism in the not too distant future. This is set, often hilariously so, to the backdrop of Microsoft and Apple, more than once skewering them both for the unrighteous cunts that they are. The ideas of tech versus evolution, flesh versus steel, are present, but where he really succeeds is in pointing out, similarly to our gadget oriented culture now, that new steps, no matter how wondrous in scope, will largely be taken at their basest level by a consuming public. The idea that, if offered the stars, humanity would choose the sky, settling comfortably into jet packs while the quasars in the distance shrug and slump unnoticed.

This reflects, ultimately, not only a disappointment in humanity, but a warning that disabling the things that make us fear, the things that make us mortal, will ultimately lead us to our doom. Humans exist at the top of the animal kingdom, one in which there is always something to usurp an unguarded throne.

I'll admit I haven't finished Red Mass for Mars, so I'll reserve my review until later.

The Manara Erotica wasn't technically read on the bus. So there's that. But I just finished it alone in my dimly lit bedroom. I'll leave you to ponder further while I get wet naps.

I'm back.

Manara can't write for shit. I've read something around nine books from him now, and whether he's writing or not, they stories tend towards the ridiculous, if not utterly insane, and lean so heavily on Manara's ability to craft a female backside that all readers should be ashamed. But! The whole point of Manara's work is to not be ashamed. They are, however crudely, celebrations of the erotic, bathed not in disgust, but in an unabashed interest in the carnal. The characters are unruly animals generally, but never in a really cruel way, and their images, however idealized, do not reflect the general comic book ideal, instead opting to function as people in various erotic situations.

 Every line, gifted with Manara's sparing ink work, is carefully set, every curve and angle, to show the care he takes in crafting these characters. His passion for human passion. This isn't to condone him completely, at the end of the day, the stories are relatively poor, but to say that he's not a writer, instead, he's one of the few pencillers so gifted as to not need a good story.

I'm about to start The Celestial Bibendium, which, for all fans of The Triplets of Belleville, should be a treat.

I was not a fan. So we'll see.

Keep an eye out for a few DIY books I'll have out soon. I'll hopefully make them available here as well as in real life, WHICH STILL FUCKING EXISTS, as well as previews as I can provide them.