Tag: DC Comics

Elizabeth Taylor

Did you miss me this morning? I had to take my car in to get it serviced (and was informed of things I’m going to need to get done soon), and then I came home to pack and run some errands. That’s all done now, and I am waiting for a podcast I am appearing on to promote Crime Ink: Iconic with Robyn Gigl, John Copenhaver and Marco Carocari on Alan Warren’s “House of Mystery” show, which should be fun and interesting. I don’t know how long that will take, but afterwards I am loading the car and driving north. I think I remembered to pack everything I need and if I forget anything, well, there are stores and things up there. I don’t have any writing to take with me on this trip, which is very weird–I am always writing something, it seems like–but I’m still decompressing from turning the book in (it needs work, I already know that) and so I am just going to let my mind wander for a while and scribble down ideas and start thinking about things I want to write and do. I am also thinking I probably won’t finish this before I leave, as I am loading the car the minute I sign out of the podcast.

Yesterday was an easy day of literally doing nothing other than picking up the mail and a prescription. I did nothing other than read The Haunting of Hill House and mostly think about how brilliant it is before going down some wormholes on Youtube–reviews of Hill House, some news, and some history documentaries about the Batman comics and their evolution over the years as well as the character changes. I did love comic books when I was a kid through being a teenager, and have occasionally dipped back into that world periodically as an adult (I really wish DC would let me write Nightwing, or revive Will Payton as Starman–or as another hero), so I find it interesting to learn about their history, and how the characters developed–as well as what outside influences impacted the characters. I’m not a comics nerd, but I do appreciate the art form and the creators, and am never averse to learning more about things I enjoy.

Well, it is now Friday afternoon and I am in Alabama, resting. Obviously I didn’t finish this entry before I departed, and am only now getting around to it; and it may not even be finished this time, either, LOL. I drove up here after recording the Housse of Mystery podcast, and that is a very helpfully placed link to the recording, which consists of Al Warren interviewing editor/contributor John Copenhaver, Robyn Gigl, and Marco Carocari. And me, of course. This was about the Crime Ink: Iconic anthology John edited and is freshly available at all your favorites places you select your reading choices. I’ve not had time to read it yet–that whole finishing-the-book thing–but am looking forward to digging into it sooner rather than later. I got here very late (for me)–nearly ten, my bedtime, and yes, I was very tired. As I drove through the dark night of rural Alabama, I kept getting a bit spooked and having deja vu and thinking, when have I ever driven through rural Alabama at night by myself before, which gradually morphed into I should memorize how it looks and feels to do this so I can write about it so I started describing the pines and the hollowed out hillsides the road cut through and when I pulled up to a four-way stop, I started laughing myself because I finally remembered; that was a passage in Bury Me in Shadows, and one of the creepier parts of the whole book!

Glad to confirm that I got that right.

Anyway, I was exhausted when I finally got here, and got up early yesterday to ride with Dad down to south Alabama–a lengthy round trip–to see family and was again exhausted last night–so exhausted I sat down here at the desk to try to check my email and I fell asleep! I woke up at two in the morning with my face down on the desk resting on my folded arms. I’m still tired today, so Dad is visiting friends while I rest here before we go to his old high school’s Homecoming Game–which is going to be strange for me, obviously. Dad and Mom used to come down for reunions fairly regularly until she started getting too sick, so he’s been back for games before. But for me, it’s a new experience. I’ve not been to a high school football game since my youngest nephew graduated high school, which I think was before Hurricane Katrina, and I’ve certainly not been to a rural high school game since I graduated high school myself. So, yes, I need to pay attention and notice things, because a project (one of many) I hope to finish over the next year or so opens at a high school football game. (I’ve also been thinking about some small town y/a horror/mystery novels lately, and thinking about writing another soon.) It doesn’t hurt that I’ve been thinking about slasher movies lately (Halloween Horror Month, remember?) and listening to Adam Cesare’s Clown in a Cornfield 2: Frendo Lives! in the car (which I am really enjoying) has also put me in mind of writing a slasher novel. I am not working on anything until everything is over with the new one–edits, copy-edits, and proofing–but it never hurts to spend some time in my head thinking about stories and characters and subtexts and intertwining subplots and stories.

I also read about half of Chris Grabenstein’s The Hanging Hill in the car yesterday. It’s a middle grade novel, but engaging and a bit funny, too. It’s easy to see why he’s so popular with kids.

I think I am going to go lie down for a bit. I’ll be back later, I am sure.

Well, I never came back to finish this, did I? Friday night’s Homecoming game ended well for the home team (they won 64-6), and then Saturday Dad and I watched football games. I was delighted LSU won, but wasn’t impressed by how they played. We watched the Alabama game with Missouri first, went to eat during the afternoon games with my uncle, and got back in time for the night games (we had the Auburn-Georgia game on the television while I had the LSU game on my new phone–and the picture quality was amazing). I have never seen such horrific and biased officiating in my life as I witnessed in the Auburn-Georgia game, and that team of officials and the replay idiot in Birmingham all need to be fired and horsewhipped, frankly. They blew so many calls–the so-called Auburn fumble was either a touchdown for Auburn or a touchdown for Georgia, not a touchdown for no one, for one example–that I wouldn’t trust them with a flag football game for children.

Sunday we went to Mom’s grave and put out flowers, and then I drove home…and Sparky was very happy to see me once I did.

So, this post should technically be read before this morning’s, but…so it goes!

Animal

Monday and back to the office with me. I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning–quelle surprise–but I feel pretty good and rested this morning. Today is an Admin Day, so I will get bleary-eyed at some point going over paperwork or doing data entry; and mental fatigue usually comes along with that. The apartment also looks better this morning than it has in a while when I get up; still needs some work, alas, but that’s how it goes sometimes.

We had a nice anniversary yesterday, finally going to see a matinee of Superman at the Prytania Theater. I always forget what a fun little cinema the Prytania is, and that they play classic movies for the first show on weekends. As for Superman, as a lifelong Superman fan…well, I loved it, and so did Paul. Perfectly cast, beautifully shot…this is the first movie since the first two Christopher Reeve films that really gets Superman right, but I think this adaptation might be my favorite (the only reason it’s not definitively my favorite is because I just saw it and am still in the afterglow of the enjoyment, which might tilt the scales in its favor…but I do want to see it again, which is a first for any adaptation). Nicholas Hoult was superb as Lex Luthor…there wasn’t any casting that seemed off or wrong.

I won’t say more because I am going to write about it for my newsletter.

We got home and I watched this week’s episode of Foundation and then watched Nicholas Hoult (he’s been a favorite of mine since Warm Bodies) in Juror #2, which, outside of the massive contrivance necessary for the story, was pretty good if a bit flawed. It was intended to be an interesting look into morality–definitely situational morality–and one of those “what would you do premises. There was another deep flaw in the story, too–but it would entail a spoiler, but this flaw was again necessary for the plot, so that’s another contrivance. But it has a terrific cast, was directed by Clint Eastwood, the performances were quite excellent, and it held my attention.

I have to run errands on the way home, and perhaps have some groceries delivered as well this evening. We need to find a new show to watch, too–having now finished America’s Sweethearts–so I’ll have to be looking around on the streaming apps tonight once I get home, too. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll even find some time to both read and write. #madness

And on that note, I need to get ready for work. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow!

The Main Thing

Work at home Friday, as we head into this weekend. It started sprinkling here around lunch time, and the deluge came after one. It was pouring, but only lasted for about an hour or so–but a lot of water came down. The rest of the day was just gray, with an occasional light sprinkle. My sinuses behaved, surprisingly, and I wasn’t that tired when I left for home. There was no traffic on the highway; I only had to slow down on the ramp to I-10 rather than the usual stop-and-go fifteen minutes it is usually. I guess a lot of people stayed home yesterday…but all of our appointments also showed up, which was nice. Looking at the weather this morning–currently sunny with scattered clouds, potential of rain at any moment until tomorrow–it appears we missed most of the rain yesterday, which wound up west of the city. The Atchafalaya basin got 11 inches of rain (!!!) yesterday instead of us; 11 inches of rain would have shut New Orleans down for the day. I slept very deeply and restfully last night, so I have no idea if we got any rain overnight. I feel pretty good this morning, too. The coffee is going down well, my coffee cake was perfection, and I’ll have either toast or cereal or yogurt as a follow up later. We’re still planning on going to Costco after work today, but that will depend on the rain. I also have dinner plans with a friend, but again–that will depend on the weather.

I did some chores when I got home from work last night–dishes and laundry–but my mind was pretty much mush by the time I was done with that, and then Paul came home while I was catching up on the news (Epstein! Epstein! Epstein!), and we started watching season two of America’s Sweethearts: The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders–which we used to watch when it aired on TNN as Making the Team. It’s definitely lots of fun; Paul and I are always fascinated by the two women who run the program, Kelly and Judy, who’ve pretty much dedicated their entire lives to the Dallas cheerleader program. (They also belong on a Real Housewives franchise, but are probably too busy.) I’m always fascinated by how these young women are sexualized by that uniform, but the show is always very careful to focus the cameras on the ones who come across as very sweet and virginal–or can play the part for the cameras, at least. I will definitely be talking more about this show!

But we’re on the cusp of another weekend, and I don’t have nearly as many chores to get done as I usually do, so I have a bit of a head start on the weekend; I won’t have to spend tomorrow morning cleaning or doing much of anything around here, so I can focus on reading my current books (Megan Abbott, Elizabeth Peters, Jay Bennett) and write. I’m not sure if the plans for the weekend include seeing Superman, but it’s playing in convenient nearby theaters, so it’s not a huge stretch for us to be able to see it. I’ve been a Superman fan since I was a kid and discovered the comic books and all the other media featuring him; I’ve read books, comic books, watched television shows and movies with him over the years–but I am also not one of those “fans” who feels betrayed by differences in adaptations, either. (Did Archie purists whine about Riverdale?) I’ve always been interested in the concept of super-heroes/metahumans etc., and have wanted to explore it in fiction sometime. But how can you be original when so much has been already done? Sigh. I always feel derivative when I’m writing anything, but that, I suspect, is a part of my imposter syndrome.

I really wish I could analyze the imposter syndrome right out of my brain.

It looks like we aren’t getting much rain today, after all, which will make the day a lot easier to deal with for errands and so forth. Huzzah! (The sun is shining now.)

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Sorry to be so dull, but that’s just the way it goes some weeks, you know? I will be back tomorrow morning, if not sooner; one never can be sure when the mood will strike! But have a great Friday, Constant Reader!

Steve Reeves in Trojan Horse

Windows

It’s the eve of July 4th, and all through the house–not a creature is stirring (besides me and Sparky), not even a mouse! (Thank God. The lack of mice means Sparky is earning his keep. I’ve not even seen a flying roach in the house this year.)

Sigh.

I woke up feeling sinus-y this morning, with a bit of a sore throat and a runny nose. I took a Claritin a little while ago, which hopefully will clear this all up. One can hope, at any rate. I was tired last night when I got home, so was kind of useless for the evening. We finished watching Olympo, which picked up the pace significantly in its final episodes, and I’m not sure there’s going to be another season, although they did leave most everything hanging in the meantime, and there was a cliffhanger. I am also feeling a bit worn down this morning as I sip my coffee and Sparky climbs all over me and my desk. It’s going to rain this afternoon (and most of the day tomorrow, it looks like), and I have some errands to run after I get off work–so I don’t have to run any this weekend. We’re thinking about going to see Jurassic World Rebirth tomorrow (Jonathan Bailey and his slutty glasses are a big draw); and I must confess I’ve never seen anything Jurassic on the big screen. (We are also going to see Superman next weekend.)

I am hoping to get some rest this holiday weekend. I think my lethargy this week was a kind of hangover from the trip last weekend, despite having Sunday as a recovery day. I keep forgetting that I am older than I was and my body has already been through a massive trauma this year already that I am still recovering from as well. It was probably too close to the illness for me to do all that driving and exertion; but I’ve also never been that ill before so am not sure how long the recovery will take–or if this is the new normal. That’s the lovely thing about getting old without a user manual; you always wonder if something is a result of getting older and this is how it’s going to be for the rest of your life. I am hoping, at any rate, to do some writing tonight and over the weekend, finish reading the three books I am currently in process of enjoying, and pick out three new ones. I got the new Megan Abbott, El Dorado Drive, this week and it may hop to the top of the pile. My reading goal for the year is to reread a bunch of Gothics, read/reread some young adult novels, and get through the books in the stack on the end table in the living room before moving on to the top shelf of the left bookcase (who am I kidding, once I clear off the end table I’ll make a new stack on the end table). I also have a lot of other books from the past year or so that I’d like to get caught up on, but I don’t seem to read as fast as I used to, and I am not going on another road trip until October when I can listen to another book.

I hate not having the energy that I used to have.

And I have another infusion a week from Monday. Hopefully I am getting used to them, and the second won’t make me as tired and lethargic as the first one did. We shall see. I still need to go get lab work done before my next appointment with my primary care physician in August, and I need to figure out which of these bills I need to pay and which ones I don’t–I hit my deductible but am getting bills still, which is kind of confusing? One of the things on my to-do list is to get this all figured out. I just don’t want to pay anything I don’t have to, you know? It’s so fucking exhausting, you know? Heavy heaving sigh. But at least work today is going to be fairly easy; we have a light schedule so I can get a lot of my Admin work done and get things caught up for the end of the fiscal year. I do have to run some errands on the way home tonight–mail and a relatively minor grocery run–but after that, I am hoping to get the chores done and the house in some better semblance of order.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely July 4th Eve, and I will most likely be back in the morning.

Nuno Gallego, formerly of Elite and now starring in OLYMPO

The Look of Love

It truly is incredible what a shithole of a site The Site Formerly Known as Twitter has become under the tenure of that brilliant modern thinker Elon Musk (Narrator voice: those adjectives were meant as sarcasm). Every time I go there to cross-post the blog or something, it only takes a moment or two before I am getting the fuck out of that hellish place. I know I should probably just deactivate and be done with it as it fades away into memory like MySpace did once upon a time, but something keeps me there–despite knowing its immoral to even scroll a little bit, and definitely against my own personal ethics–but I think it’s more along the lines of watching a slow-motion disaster movie, frame by frame.

If only it would bankrupt him financially, to go along with his moral and ethical bankruptcies.

Yesterday wasn’t a very good day around the ranch. I was low energy all day, and while i did get all of my work-at-home duties taken care of and handled, after running errands and having a ZOOM call with three very dear friends (who undoubtedly are sick of me talking too much on ZOOM calls), I was just flat out exhausted and simply collapsed into my easy chair with my purr kitty for the evening. I did watch a lengthy documentary about the Eastern Roman Empire, and how the Holy Roman Empire was western Europe’s attempt to recapture and regrasp the legacy of Imperial Rome, to the point of rebranding the real Roman Empire as the Byzantine, or Greek, Empire. (The history of “western” civilization is full of these sorts of reclaimings and rebrandings, as the West sought to basically claim the history of civilization in general.) It just goes to show you–the history we all learned in public school was biased and written to enhance and create a foundation for white supremacy to rest upon. There’s a rather lengthy personal essay to be written about having to relearn everything I learned as a child as an adult because it was all wrong–or people could just read Howard Zinn’s work.

Today I do have some errands to run and vaccines to get injected into my arms; I also have things around the house I need to get done. I am going to make Swedish meatballs today in the slow cooker, I think; that’ll be a nice treat to go along with the LSU game tonight against Georgia State. There really aren’t many great games today–everyone has an “easy” game scheduled for the weekend before the Thanksgiving rivalry games, many of which this is the last go-around for. It’s weird to think LSU won’t be playing their most hated rival, Florida, every year any more (but how delightful to go out with a five game winning streak over them, ha ha ha ha and fuck off, Gators), or that other classic games won’t occur anymore. I don’t know why or when LSU’s Thanksgiving rivalry weekend opponent changed from Arkansas to Texas A&M; that was a fun rivalry with the Razorbacks pulling off some upsets over the years–why is it that everyone plays lights-out when they play LSU?–but that was also a manufactured rivalry that didn’t exist before Arkansas joined the SEC.

I also want to spend some time reading this morning; Lou Berney’s Dark Ride is calling my name and I am really enjoying it. The fun thing about Lou’s work is everything is always different; no two books are ever the same, or even the same kind of voice or style. Every book is an original in every way, and I will go to my grave with The Long and Faraway Gone as one of my favorite crime novels of all time. The one thing I am looking forward to after this surgery is more time to read, and if need be, I can read on my iPad–it’s not like I haven’t downloaded hundreds of books over the years. I’m still enjoying The Rival Queens–man, I love that period of French history–and I think my next read after Lou’s will be Zig Zag, by J. D. O’Brien; since it’s about a weed dispensary heist, coming after Lou’s stoner noir seems like the proper pairing, and then after that I am moving on to the new Angie Kim.

I was exhausted last night so I slept incredibly well. I even slept in this morning, not getting out of bed before eight-thirty like a slag. I feel much more rested and emotionally even this morning, which is a very good thing. I want to get a lot done today–I really need to move furniture and figure out how to make my work station more Big Kitten Energy proof, which is possible but will take some figuring out, and I won’t be able to move anything after Tuesday’s surgery, after all, so I have to get all this stuff done before hand. I don’t feel like I’ve had the chance to think everything through the way it needs to be thought through, nor do I feel like I am prepared for the aftermath and recovery period–which I think was the explanation for yesterday’s low energy; created and maintained completely by my anxiety.

I also want to read this original text version of The Mark on the Door, a Hardy Boys mystery.

We watched Blue Beetle last night, and I really enjoyed it. First, it was lovely seeing a Latinx family centered in a super-hero movie, and to have a super-hero of Mexican ancestry. It had some really funny moments (as well as some that made me go huh?), and as far as DC/Marvel movies go, it was one of the more solid plots and origin stories, but I’m also not terribly familiar with the Blue Beetle character. I primarily remember/knew him from the Justice League comic books of the late 1980’s/early 1990’s, and he was often teamed up with Booster Gold for comedy. I don’t know what has happened to the character with all the reboots since then, but I appreciated seeing something different from a comic book movie. The lead actor, young Xolo Maridueña, was handsome and appealing and charismatic, and the rest of the cast is fine other than the old witch who gave us Presidents Nader and Sanders because she doesn’t vote with her vagina (maybe you should have, you fucking piece of trash, since your mouth and going everywhere all over 24 hour news to trash Hillary helped give us the current Supreme Court, and you should be shunned and forced to take a Game of Thrones walk of shame down Pennsylvania you fucking hateful bitch–I will carry that grudge to the grave, skank). Seeing that fucking trash was in the cast made me seriously reconsider watching, frankly, and her “acting” was a joke and so horrific that Paul and I spent a good hour recasting with actresses who wouldn’t have just cashed the check and phoned it in the way she did.) The movie is actually strongest when it focuses on the Reyes family and their dynamic (Nana is the absolute best), and while it didn’t pull down the kind of financial numbers a movie like this is intended to (and odds that it’ll be blamed by Hollywood on centering a Latinx family are pretty strong), I do think this is one of the movies that in the future will be reclaimed as a classic and one of the best in the field. I hope there will be a sequel, as was teased at the end.

But I think they’re rebooting the movie universe for DC, so who knows.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous, marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and may whatever teams you’re rooting for today have a nice win–unless you’re a Georgia State fan, of course.

The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts

I have always loved Superman, ever since I accidentally pressed the wrong button on the comic book vending machine at the Jewel Osco on Pulaski Avenue in Chicago as a child and got Action Comics instead of the Betty and Veronica I wanted. I was disappointed, and asked my mom for some more change so I could get what I actually wanted, which was when my mom decided to teach me a valuable life lesson: if you hurry and don’t pay attention you won’t get what you want–and sometimes that’s the end of it. So always, always make sure you’re picking the right thing. (I still do, to this day, and whenever I “forget” and rush–it inevitably ends badly.)

I wasn’t happy about it, but made the best of it. I had a comic book, after all, and while I had never shown any interest in super-heroes and their comics before, I decided to read it when I got home.

Once I did, I was done with the Archie and the world of Riverdale for good. I started reading DC Comics–I already knew about Batman from the television show, which we watched every week with its epic cartoonish campiness–and all the other titles that involved Superman even if only in a peripheral way. Both Jimmy Olson and Lois Lane also had their own titles, there were at least three titles alone devoted to Superman, and of course, Justice League of America. There was a Superboy title, too, and of course we can’t forget Linda Danvers, Supergirl. I read them all, and finally stopped buying them when they reached the (to me then) insane price of a dollar per issue. But I never lost my sentimental attachment to DC Comics and their heroes. I was also terribly bummed when the peripheral titles, like Superboy, Jimmy Olson–Superman’s Pal, and Superman’s Girlfriend, Lois Lane–were cancelled. For the most part, Lois’ adventures that didn’t involve Superman–when she was actually doing her job as an investigative reporter–often involved her in mysteries she had to solve, which were a lot more interesting to me than her schemes to expose Clark as Superman, or to get Superman to marry her. The old television series, with George Reeves, was often shown in reruns on alternative non-network local channels, and while I of course watched, I was kind of disappointed with how bad and cheap the effects looked. Batman’s television show was campy, of course, and highly entertaining–but campy. Wonder Woman was also campy and cheesy, but had Lynda Carter, who personified both the super-hero and her alter-ego, Diana. (When I was watching Superpowered: The DC Story the other night Carter said something I thought was very perceptive and explained thoroughly her role on the show: “I didn’t play them as separate characters–I just played her as Diana, the Amazon Princess, with a strong belief in equality and that there’s a better way than fighting.”)

So, when they Superman movie was announced sometime in the mid-1970’s, I knew I’d go see it, but didn’t have a lot of high hopes. But the tagline was fantastic.

You’ll believe a man can fly.

I think I was at the theater, waiting to watch either The Deer Hunter or Animal House, when they played the preview for the upcoming December release Superman The Movie, starring Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder (among many other major names in supporting roles–from Marlon Brando to Gene Hackman to Ned Beatty to Valerie Perrine). I knew they were making the movie, and I had allowed myself to get a little excited about it as a Superman fan. I’d always found previous Superman adaptations–mostly the television show–to be so inexpensively done that it was almost comical. But special effects had been changed forever by the one-two punch of 1977’s Star Wars and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and I also knew they were spending a LOT of money on this adaptation, so when the screen and theater went dark, and you just heard a voice saying “You’ll believe a man can fly” and then…there he was, flying. I caught my breath because it looked so real. And when Christopher Reeve turned his face to the camera, smiled, saluted and somehow got his eyes to twinkle, I also knew the movie was perfectly cast. I couldn’t wait for the movie to finally open (I think I also saw the sequel on its opening weekend), and yes, when it finally came to the Petite Twin Theater (apparently still there? No, no movie theater on Commercial Street anymore, alas) I saw it on that first weekend.

I’ve always loved Superman, and Christopher Reeve was fantastic in the part; the bar every actor who puts on the suit has to clear.

Obviously, the recent announcement that David Corenswet has been cast to play Clark/Superman in the new reboot of the film franchise, replacing Henry Cavill, has me thinking about Superman again. I was very pleased, frankly, when Cavill was originally cast; I’d first noted him playing Charles Brandon on The Tudors and thought, “that is one fine-ass man.” I thought he was the perfect choice to play the dual roles of Clark and Superman; he is drop dead gorgeous, for one, and his eyes have the ability to twinkle when he smiles and the dimples? Just take me now, Henry.

Mr. Cavill fills out the suit rather nicely, does he not?

The Henry Cavill version of Superman, which followed on the heels of a failed reboot with Brandon Routh (who returned to the televised DC Universe–the Arrowverse–in Legends of Tomorrow. I always felt bad for Routh, who I didn’t think got a fair break, either), wasn’t the best interpretation of the character but that wasn’t Cavill’s fault; that was the vision of the director and writers and the studio; and while I think I can understand the need to update Superman, the need to darken his story a la The Dark Knight 1980’s Batman reboot was a mistake. Superman is the World’s Biggest Boy Scout; he stands for hope and truth and all those things we used to believe embodied the United States; if anything, Superman was the personification of the idea of American exceptionalism.

David Corenswet certainly has the right look for the part; he’s from the Ryan Murphy stable of dark-haired blue-eyed square jawed hunks who regularly appear on his television series. I first saw Corenswet in The Politician, and then again in Hollywood. I found the following fan art through a Google search, as there are no available official images of him as the Big Blue Boy Scout. James Gunn’s vision for the DC Universe is one I am interested in seeing; while I didn’t enjoy the second and probably won’t watch the third (I’ve come to detest everything about Chris Pratt over the last few years), I did think the first Guardians of the Galaxy movie was pitch-perfect for a popcorn super-hero type movie.

But I do hope they move away from the dark broodiness of the Cavill version. I enjoyed them (and love Henry Cavill for reasons that should be obvious; look at the posted picture above again), but they didn’t feel right for Superman movies. The underlying theme and element of all the Superman stories is his positive energy and determination to protect people from harm and most importantly, lead by example. One of the core elements of the original Superman series (before the first of many DC reboots of their universe) was that Superman’s most sacred vow was that he would never take a life, no matter who or how much they deserved death. That didn’t matter to Superman, whose pursuit of justice was limited to capturing the bad guys and turning them over to the judicial system. It wasn’t his job to determine justice and punishment.

I keep hearing good things about the animated DC movies and series, but have yet to really watch any of them. I don’t know why I have this automatic resistance to animated super-hero shows/movies; I love Disney animation, and there are literally hours of DC animated entertainment available for streaming. I’d been hearing good things about a new DC animated series on MAX called My Adventures with Superman, so while I was waiting for Paul the other night (and was tired of LSU football highlight videos) I decided to give My Adventures with Superman a chance.

Constant Reader, I am so glad I did.

The show is utterly charming. It’s very well animated, for one–Clark/Superman is handsome, which is weird to say about a cartoon–and it’s refreshingly well-written with more emphasis on the characters and who they are, as well as their relationships with each other, over the adventure aspects of it, which makes it all the more likable and enduring. The premise is that Clark, Lois, and Jimmy Olson are all interns at the Daily Planet; Clark and Jimmy are just starting, and Lois is given the job of breaking them in and showing them the ropes. Lois is ambitious and determined to become a star reporter, and her impetuosity and ambition quickly leads them all into trouble–not only with the bad guys, but with Perry White back at the paper. Fortunately, Clark is, well, Superman, so all turns out for the best and Lois gets the scoop of all time: there’s a super-man amongst us! Which gets all three of them hired on staff. Clark is exactly the way he should be: kind, thoughtful, empathetic, a little bit shy–and the cold open of episode 1, which has young Clark suddenly discovering that he can, actually, fly; and his excitement and wonder at discovering this sudden new ability slowly begins to fade–imagine learning at age ten or eleven that you have super-powers–and he begins to wonder not only who he is, but what he is….then after the opening credits it flashes forward to Metropolis and Clark and Jimmy–roommates–getting ready for their first day as interns. The chemistry between the three of them–truly the Holy Trinity of the Superman stories is Clark, Lois and Jimmy (it’s so nice to see Jimmy Olson finally getting something to do and being included as something more than just a bit part, which is a nice nod to Superman history), and I am really looking forward to watching more of it.

And the art is fantastic.

Well done, DC. I hope this series lasts and is a hit–and I hope James Gunn is watching so he can see how to do the Big Blue Boy Scout properly.

Ups

Saturday morning in ye olde Lost Apartment. Yesterday was a productive one, yet I was tired. I slept better Thursday night than I had all week, and yet… tired, emotionally, intellectually, and physically. I got my work done, though, managed to get laundry and dishes taken care of, and finished page proofing. I was watching (listening) to a documentary on MAX about DC Comics (which was essentially a three hour informerical about DC entertainment–comics, movies, games, graphic novels, television shows, etc.), which I kind of enjoyed besides the obvious puff piece approach. They were brutally honest about bad decisions and down-turns in popularity, as well as the insane boom of the early 1990’s with the collectors’ stuff. I had that on while I page-proofed, and it was interesting. I’ve always been a DC guy (who has nothing but respect and admiration for Marvel; I love Spider-Man), so seeing all the previous incarnations of the heroes and the stories as they evolved and changed over the years. They did, in fact, bring up the weird period where Wonder Woman gave up her powers and just became Diana Prince, which was also the same period where Supergirl was poisoned and her powers came and went; were no longer reliable, so they dreamed up some tech to help her out when her powers failed her. I was already planning on writing about DC again, thanks to the breaking news of the casting of the new Superman and because I’ve started watching the animated series My Adventures with Superman, which I am loving. We also finished The Crowded Room (a bit disappointing overall, I think) and watched the new Minx as well as some more Awkwafina is Nora from Queens.

It was extremely hot yesterday and I did not go outside. Even with the air conditioning on, I could tell everything outside was roasting. The air had that weird texture to it still, like it was almost scorched a bit from the heat. Today we have extreme heat advisory from eleven to seven, and I am considering not running my errands today if I can’t get it done this morning. I don’t want to be out in that if I don’t have to be, and if I do, at a time when it isn’t terrible outside. It is definitely the hottest summer I can remember in my life–and I do not just think that ever year and this year is no different. This year is VERY different, so hot it’s almost scary. The water in the Gulf is so hot, how can that be good for aquatic life? For the ecosystems of the shorelines? How hot are the rivers and lakes and creeks and streams? I have to run the cold water tap for quite a while every day before the water actually cools down to merely lukewarm. It’s very easy to get dehydrated, and it’s very easy to get heat exhaustion. Seriously, people, if you have to be out in this today, make sure you stay hydrated and out of the sun as much as possible. I also think it can’t be good for the car to be operating in this heat, either. But people in places like Palm Springs and Arizona drive and go out into the heat when it’s 114 or more outside. Maybe it’s just my natural anxiety, I don’t know. There’s always something to be anxious about.

Today I want to get some writing done. I want to finish revising that short story and I want to try to get that next chapter of the WIP revised as well. I may even try to write a story for a deadline in a few days, but even I am not arrogant as to think I can write a story that can get through an anonymous read in just three days. I also want to read a bit, and I want to work some more on the shelves in the laundry room. There’s just so many books, and I know I need to keep pruning. I need to be brutal and heartless, but so much I want to read and still think, hoping forlornly, that I will get to them…even as I buy more and more and read less and less. My mind is kind of all over the place right now, as it usually is when I don’t have something to focus on fully. Deadlines do impose some a forced focus onto me, but they also bring anxiety with them and I really don’t want to deal with any more anxiety right now, you know? Why invite chaos in, when you know damned well there will be anxiety no matter how much you convince yourself that this time it will be different? (It never is.) This love/hate relationship I have with writing is something I was actually thinking about yesterday as I put clean sheets on the bed. I was thinking that there are definitely parts of this I love–I love the creative aspects, I love working it all out in my brain, I love creating the characters and setting the mood and finding the voice. I enjoy revisions, too, but the element of despair is always added to the process when you are doing the revisions. By the time you’re doing what you hope is a final polish with almost every error excised or string tied up, you are heartily sick of the book, the characters, the story, writing in general and wondering why you ever thought you could do this, and would it really be that horrible a loss if you just walked away from it all? Then you hold your breath and click send, and then the agony of waiting starts, with all its paranoid imposter syndrome spirals and fears that this is the time you wrote something for which there is no editorial hope.

I mean, that happens every time I write a book, whether it’s on a deadline or not. The additional stress of the ticking clock a deadline adds to the entire process is what I’m getting to the point now where I can’t handle it or at least would prefer not to at the moment. I kind of just want to enjoy this moment where there’s no writing pressure and I can just work on stuff without being stressed about it at all, enjoy the process and the writing and creating itself. This is, after all, what I love about doing this. So why not do it under circumstances where I can savor the experience and enjoy myself? I mean, I do love writing, and I think I should be able to enjoy myself doing something I love all the time rather than being stressed out and anxious about it.

And I am enjoying writing again, being creative, feeling like yes I’m an author again, which is nice and frankly, a feeling I’ve missed. And it isn’t that things are so much better now than they were by any means, it’s just that now I don’t have to try to cram things into every day. Our civilization is crumbling around us and the world is on fire, but I don’t have to rush for anything other than being on time for work–and that I can live with. It seems wrong to be so calm and settled while the world is burning and our government is collapsing, but there it is.

I’ve always been selfish.

I slept well last night. I did wake up a couple of times, including the always every night five and six am wakes, which was just as annoying as it always is, but managed to go back to sleep both times and not get up until eight, which was really nice. I feel a lot more rested this morning than I have all week–naturally on a day when I don’t have to go to the office–and I am probably going to go ahead and run those errands today and get them out of the way. If I am making groceries, I don’t necessarily have to get the mail today; I can go to another grocery store rather than all the way uptown, for instance, and I do have to swing through Midcity on Monday to pick up a prescription, so I might as well do the mail that day anyway. I have other prescriptions that will also be ready in Uptown by Monday as well, so might just do a grocery run today and get that out of the way and then stay indoors as much as possible the rest of the day. It’s also kind of hard to believe Bouchercon is looming, as is my birthday. I made a to-do list this week, but I am so out of practice with using one that I never look at it anymore once it’s made and I need to stop doing that.

I am going to start reading Kelly J. Ford’s The Hunt this weekend, and I’d also like to watch some more of My Adventure with Superman. I should probably also finish that blog entry on Superman and his evolution on film/television over the years, and how I will go to my grave a Superman fan. I may also finish Hi Honey I’m Homo by Matt Baume this week, giving me the opportunity to move on to another non-fiction tome, and will also need to post a review of it. And of course there are other entries I need to finish as well. Someday I will be caught up on this blog, you’ll see, Constant Reader!

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for now. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and stay hydrated and be cautious in this heat because I would miss you.

Get Off Of My Cloud

And Christmas is over.

I managed to make my quota yesterday; I didn’t make up the quota from the day before but it’s okay; I don’t really mind. I am going to have to work like a dog this week to get this into something reasonably not embarrassing before turning it in. But I am writing, and I am writing in the proper amount of word count bursts; I just wish I could do more than the daily quota. I can get the quota usually done in about two hours or so, which is pretty fast methinks for the amount of output. I used to be able to do more when necessary, though, and I keep hoping I’ll hit one of those days again. You never know. It may even been today; stranger things have happened.

I finally remembered the last movie we watched on Christmas Eve: Enola Holmes 2. I can’t imagine why I couldn’t remember it yesterday morning. I enjoyed it, and both Millie Bobbie Brown and Henry Cavill are favorites of mine. Last night we watched Black Adam with Dwayne Johnson, which we also enjoyed. I’d seen some snarky hate directed at the movie on Twitter since its release, but I like the Rock and I like DC, so go figure, we liked it. Were there holes in the plot? Of course, it’s a superhero movie so there are always going to be holes in the plot and things that don’t make sense. It’s a fucking super hero movie. I’ve already accepted that mythological gods have given him the “shazam” power, and that he’s been alive in a sort of suspended animation for thousands of years, what precisely is a bridge too far here? I also thought it was interesting to see a superhero who belongs to another country other than ours–all superhero stories inevitably make them American because of course only we would have superheroes.

I also read quite a bit more of Dashing Through the Snowbirds, which I will hopefully finish this morning over coffee–reading while having coffee in the mornings has been really lovely over this long holiday weekend. Perhaps in the new year it can become a tradition for me on the weekends; reading while having my morning coffee. I would like to read more in the new year–my reading isn’t nearly as regular or frequent as it should be at this point, but I am also looking forward to getting my shit back together in 2023 and being more on top of things than I have been in quite some time. I think that’s been the worst thing of these last few years; having a lot to do all the time while not feeling like you have an organizational grip on everything has been absolute hell for me, and I am hopeful come the new year will see that horrific feeling come to an end. I’m always going to be busy, let’s be honest; but I always used to feel like I always had a handle on it before. Maybe that’s changed because I am older and don’t have the desire or drive or energy that I used to have, but I do think it’s really a combination of everything. Come the new year, I am hoping to get better organized from the start and try to get everything planned ahead of time.

I slept really well again last night, which was great. One thing for sure is I got rested over this long weekend, if nothing else. I wanted to get up early this morning to try to start the adjustment to the hellish earliness of six a.m. alarms that are coming the rest of the week, but the bed was so comfortable this morning and warm, and I was so relaxed, I stayed in bed until after eight, making me a lag-a-bed surely this morning. I do have to leave the house–I reordered the groceries I was originally supposed to pick up on Christmas Eve for today–but not for long. The temperature is in the thirties out there right now–but should be up into the seventies by the end of the week again. Ah, bipolar New Orleans winter weather never changes from year to year, does it?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I want to read a bit this morning, and I have a load of laundry to finish as well as a load of dishes to put away, and of course there’s minor cleaning and picking up to do this morning. I think this evening we will get caught up on Three Pines and maybe start something else new.

Have a wonderful Boxing Day for those who celebrate, and for everyone else, have a lovely Monday off from work. I certainly intend to do so!

All The Beautiful Worlds

I would not describe myself as a big comics fan. I love them, still have a strong attachment to them and their characters, but I am hardly an expert–not even close.

I started reading comic books when I was very young–I remember all the iterations of Archie, Millie the Model, Little Dot, Little Lotta, Sugar ‘n’ Spice, etc.–and eventually moved into the world of super-hero comics (while still greatly enjoy the horror/suspense/mystery comics as well–The Witching Hour, House of Secrets, House of Mystery, Chilling Tales, etc.). I stopped reading them regularly when we moved out to the suburbs–they were harder to find in our little developing suburb when we moved there–and it wasn’t until we moved to Kansas several years later than I got back into comics again. I was always a DC kid; and the few years I’d been away saw some dramatic changes made to the DC Universe–trying to modernize and update them; the 70’s were a very weird time for Wonder Woman–and then, again, when I moved to California I stopped reading them again. A friend in college brought me around to them again, this time also introducing me to Marvel. When I moved to Houston, my nephew was really into comics, and so I started reading them again with him, and continued buying them for several years. This was post-Crisis and the first massive reboot of DC, so as I was going through the racks at a comics shop in Houston one day I saw The Sandman.

The post-Crisis reboot of DC had changed some of the comics, and the heroes (this was always my favorite version of Starman, Will Peyton) changed as well. But…I wasn’t prepared for The Sandman.

I’d never heard of Neil Gaiman before, but it was this comic book series that turned me into a fan. The incredible imagination involved in creating this bizarre mythology, of the Endless siblings who epitomized some aspect of the human experience–Dream, Death, Desire, Despair, Delirium, Destruction, Destiny–and of course, the main character of the book was Dream of the Endless, master of the Dreaming, where all humans go when we sleep, and he controls our dreams, creating both Dreams and Nightmares. The story line of “The Doll’s House” especially was fantastic and enchanting; it was one of the few comics (along with the Will Peyton run as Starman) where I went back and bought the back issues because I wanted to read them all. (I’ve also gotten some of the all-in-one collections of the stories, including “The Doll’s House.”)

I’ve always loved this comic run. and have always regretted never finishing it; I stopped buying comics before the series ended. The prospect of a film version never interested me much because I didn’t see how it could be done, plus it would inevitably be a disappointment; the comics were visually stunning, the characters and stories so layered and complex I didn’t see how any of them could be condensed into a two-hour film, and the expense of recreating the brilliant and beautiful images contained within the books seemed insurmountable. The announcement of a Netflix series didn’t inspire confidence; I didn’t care for, or finish, the adaptations of two Gaiman novels I loved, American Gods and Good Omens, which to me was an omen that The Sandman would be disappointing as well. I also wasn’t sure if Paul would like it, or that it would be so difficult to follow without knowing the source material he’d pester me with so many questions I wouldn’t be able to follow it myself.

Constant Reader, I couldn’t have been more wrong about anything as I was about The Sandman adaptation.

First of all, it’s very closely adapted to the comics, at least as how I remember them. My memory isn’t what it used to be, of course, and so I couldn’t really remember much about it other than he was Dream, aka Morpheus, and he was lord of the Dreaming and had six siblings. It was also kind of an anthology series, with stand alone issues as Morpheus visited human dreams or was forced to sometimes interfere with them. (I also always thought he looked like Robert Smith, the lead singer of the Cure) So as each episode unfurled before me, I would start remembering things. I remembered that out of all the Endless, Death was actually the kindest and most compassionate, who saw her job as necessary and thus wanted to appear as a kind friend and companion to the dead to ease them through the transition (I have always thought that was brilliant). I remembered the story of him being captured and trapped by humans, and that the Dreaming had been damaged and decayed by his absence and he needed to rebuilt his world as well as capture his creations who’d escaped into the Waking World…and of course, the appearance of the dream vortex which could have destroyed everything, and how that played out.

It is such an excellent adaptation that some of the scenes in the show are perfect recreations of panels in the books themselves; I found myself smiling in recognition, visually the scene in print as well as on the television screen before me. The show is also beautifully written and perfectly cast, from Tom Sturridge as Dream himself (I don’t know how he did the voice, but its other-worldly yet beautiful at the same time; one of the things I loved the most about The Sandman is how Gaiman made everything, no matter how terrifying or scary or steeped in fear, beautiful; beauty can also be terrifying and The Sandman expresses this better than anything I’ve ever seen or read before) to Gwendoline Christie’s chilling turn as Lucifer to Jenna Coleman as Johanna Constantine (a gender switch from the comics) to my personal favorite, Vivienne Acheampong as Lucienne. It’s a terrific cast, including an Emmy-worthy supporting turn by John Cameron Mitchell and of course, break out star Boyd Holbrook as the Corinthian.

I highly recommend it; its smart and funny and clever and intelligent and beautiful, the set and art design and costumes are first rate–and the cinematography is breathtaking.

I absolutely loved it, and so did Paul–who watched in utter spellbound silence and didn’t ask a single question.

I cannot wait for season two.

(Oh, and the show is queer and gender-bending AF, for the record.)

Annabel Lee

Saturday in the Lost Apartment and all seems to be well. I slept late as I had planned–maybe a bit too late, but I also stayed up late to finish doing the laundry (it’s such an exciting and always oh-so-glamorous life I live here in the Lost Apartment. I have to run some errands a little later on–mail, make groceries, prescriptions, library–and some things to do around here to touch up and clean a bit. I want to do some writing and reading today as well as just relax and enjoy the day a bit. We finished watching The Sandman this week, which was incredible–I think everyone can enjoy it, frankly, and it’s so creative and smart and visually breathtaking; a sweep of technical Emmys would be incredibly well-deserved; but it’s also a fantasy show built upon a mythology that originated in the DC Comics super-hero world, so it probably won’t be taken as seriously by the Emmy voters as it should…but then again they were also all about Watchmen (which was, frankly, superb), so you never know. Game of Thrones didn’t do too badly with the Emmys, either. Regardless, The Sandman is brilliant and I highly recommend it.

We also started watching the new show on Apple+ by Dennis Lehane, Black Bird, starring Taron Edgerton, which is also really good and Edgerton really is enjoying the role he plays. (Paul and I decided that he and Tom Holland need to make a movie together where they play brothers; Edgerton is what Holland would look like were he not so baby-faced boyish looking…or they could easily pass for brothers.) Edgerton, who is very handsome and has an amazing body, also looks like he’s been buffing up his body, too. (I think we first noticed him in Kingsman…I also think he’d make a terrific Nightwing if they ever make a Nightwing movie, which they really need to–I was distressed to see the latest HBO MAX news that Titans will probably be cancelled, which means DIck and Kori need to get together this final season soon to be airing.) We blew through the first three episodes quickly; I am also thinking we need to watch Five Days At Memorial–it’s getting to be Katrina anniversary time, woo-hoo–which will undoubtedly be difficult to watch (that period is a very dark time, obviously, and reliving it, even through the guise of entertainment, is always difficult) but probably necessary.

Since watching It’s a Sin last year (or whenever it was it was released) opened a floodgate of sorts in my mind. I know I’ve mentioned here before that I had always, since about age thirty-three, chosen to focus on the present and the future and never look back. It always seemed counter-productive, and I had finally come around to the acceptance point of realizing that everything that has happened in my life–whether macro or micro–inevitably set me on the path that led me to where I am today, and as long as I am happy, did the past really matter? What was the point to having regrets, to wishing I had something differently? Doing anything differently would have changed my path, and direction, with absolutely no guarantee that I would either be happy–or have survived this long. I am sure there are many many alternative timelines for me that had me dying in the 1980’s or 1990’s, which is always a sobering reflection and one I always have to keep in mind. I am alive because of every decision I’ve made and every heartbreak and crisis and problem and bad thing that has ever happened to me, and I kind of like my life and who I am. I am aware of my flaws (probably not as aware as I could be) and I know what my strengths and weaknesses are as a general rule; my biggest worry is that I delude myself periodically about anything or everything or something, and I really don’t like the possibility that I have blinders on when it comes to anything to do with me, my life or my career, while knowing it’s a strong one. I also know sometimes I probably take on blame for wrong that isn’t my fault (another reason Charlie in Heartstopper resonated so strongly with me was him constantly thinking everything was his fault and always saying “sorry”; I could absolutely relate to that as I’ve done the same most of my life and it is generally always my default on everything).

But as I have said, watching It’s a Sin, and being reminded so viscerally and realistically of what that period of my life was like–oh, they were so heartbreakingly young–did make me start looking back, remembering and reevaluating and, while perhaps not actually having regret, actually mourning everyone and the world and the life perhaps we all could have had if the homophobes hadn’t been in charge of everything back then. By not looking back I don’t think I ever allowed myself to heal, even though so much time has passed it’s all scar tissue now. But scar tissue is generally tighter than the skin it repairs; one is never quite as flexible as one used to be before the wounds became scabs and finally scars. Writing, as always, has been an enormously helpful tool for me to process experiences and feelings without tearing the webbing of the scar tissue again. That’s why I think writing “Never Kiss a Stranger” is important to me, and why the story haunts me so. Both Bury Me in Shadows and #shedeservedit both were enormously helpful to me, forcing me to deconstruct and evaluate and look at harsh bitter truths I’ve tried to avoid most of my life. So I think it may be helpful to watch Five Days at Memorial, because perhaps enough time has passed for me to look back without the full range of painful emotion the memories brought before.

Hilariously, after all that bitching yesterday morning about the health fair, it turned out much differently than I was expecting. For one thing, their scale clearly was wrong; it clocked me at 196 pounds. If that was accurate, then I have lost sixteen pounds since I last visited my doctor–two weeks ago (I weighed 212 at his office). As that is most likely not possible–especially since I’d moaned in disbelief when putting on my pants yesterday morning only to find them snugger than they were the last time I’d put them, so the notion I’ve lost that much weight in such a short period of time without trying is utterly ludicrous on its face, preposterous. But it did kind of make me smile a little bit and shake my head.

And on that note, I think I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and hope it’s everything you hoped it will be.