Lou's Blog

New Home for This Blog

Sun, 18 Nov 2007 14:09:54 GMT

Greetings --- i've moved operations of this blog to http://ehlvee.comiccritique.com and of course the MySpace page is still up as well.

Thanks for stopping by!

A new review

Thu, 01 Nov 2007 00:40:47 GMT

Managed to post a new review, it's been a while since I've had time to both read comics and then write a review. This isn't the harshest review I've ever written, but I suppose it's up there. When I write something that's not necessarily favorable, it's about me wanting the storytellers to kick it up a notch, take more responsibility for the ideas and not leave things half-baked or ill-considered. The Clockwork Girl has lots of potential and as such I found it maybe more disappointing than someone else might have. Frankly, the problems I had with this comic are common in comics that don't have an editor who is different from the writer/artist. Editors are important! And I'm not just saying that because I'm an editor of ComicCritique.Com. I'm saying that because all storytellers in any medium for public consumption need someone who is a bit harsh, someone who can ask something more of the storytellers, to demand something greater.

Here's the review:

http://www.comiccritique.com/st/grevSt566.html

WWCtBD?

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 21:11:31 GMT

A few years ago I attempted to look at life from a different perspective, to emulate the actions of a personal hero who enjoyed a great deal of success and became a leader of some reknown despite early childhood abuse and a lifetime of hardship. Of course I’m speaking of Conan the Barbarian. (I suppose it’s worth wondering if he became the fighter he was and the exceptional leader he was because of those very hardships.) If I found myself in a difficult spot, ready to give up, I’d say to myself, “Would Conan give up? Would he? NO!” and I’d press on until completion of the task.

I ended up letting Conan go as a role model when I had a difficult time fitting his responses into the situations in which I found myself. For example, if I were at a trouble spot in a program I was writing, I’d ask myself, “What would Conan do?” and of course end up destroying both computer and desk with my two-handed sword (thank goodness I bought Dell’s accident insurance). Or I’d be driving and attempt to merge into traffic on the beltway and would be refused entrance by the many inconsiderate demons already there and would be forced to smash the car into the nearest lane of traffic anyway, causing a wreck to the left and behind me, but allowing me to continue traveling forward. Of course this would anger the same demons who refused to let me in, and an attack from the rear would doubtless ensue. So I would be forced to hand the steering wheel over to the wide-eyed carpool passenger in the front seat while I opened the driver’s door and climbed to stand on the hood of the moving car. Then I’d simultaneously brandish my sword and strip to my leather loincloth and then leap from my car to the nearest attacking vehicle, and then to each other attacking vehicle in succession, delivering deathblows to the engine of each one. Eventually the highway would be a sea of dead SUVs sporting extensive sword damage and I’d have to walk the last five miles home, which was a real pain.

So, Conan is retired as my guru for the time being. I’m considering as his replacement the Dalai Lama, or possibly Beowulf. We’ll see.

Recounting an Old Adventure

Wed, 10 Oct 2007 04:28:44 GMT

This isn’t a new piece, but I ran across it tonight while perusing some of my files and thought I’d share it.

The best thing my mother ever taught me was to view every experience in life as an adventure. Have a flat tire? It’s not bad luck, it’s an adventure! Meet someone famous? That’s an adventure. The only rule is that it be a new or exceptional experience, but not necessarily a pleasant one. One memorable adventure I had was in the realm of exotic cuisine. My wife and I visited our favorite sushi restaurant where the new chef was informed that we were regulars. As a welcome he honored us with a free serving of tako. “How nice,” I thought, imagining tako meant a slab of salmon in a hard-shell tortilla. No such luck. It turns out that tako is the Japanese word for octopus.

What comes to mind when you think of an octopus? Perhaps an eyeless, mouthless head surrounded by tentacles? If that’s the picture that shows up for you, then you know exactly what I saw resting before me on my small sushi plate. The whole octopus measured less than two inches, from tip of tentacle to top of head. It was reddish, presumably from whatever sauce the chef had applied. Or maybe this was a red-ink octopus and the chef had black-, blue-, and fuchsia-ink octopi hidden behind his bar. My wife was so appalled to see this creature on my plate that the corners of her mouth immediately turned down in a grimace normally reserved only for the most gruesome episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She draped sheets of pickled ginger over her own slimy helping so she wouldn’t have to look at it. I admit that I also did not find this thing appetizing. Yet I recognized that I had been thrust into an adventure, and I found myself unable to turn away. I couldn’t not participate simply because I thought I might hurl. On the contrary, those adventures that begin with the threat of hurling are invariably the most satisfying.

I assumed as with other sushi that the entire piece was to be eaten at once, that I should not remove and eat the head separately, or bite off one tentacle at a time. Thus, while my wife watched in horror, I grasped the creature in my chopsticks and in one quick motion placed it in my mouth. Let me tell you, it was disgusting. I did my best to not think about what I was doing, tried to forget that there was a head and brains and heart in this little body that was crunching in my jaws.

I had the strange feeling of role-reversal, that I had become the evil giant in some deep-sea fairy tale told to frighten octopus children into eating all their plankton. Here this innocent Lilliputian octopus had unwittingly and unwillingly become my meal. A point of clarification: the thing wasn’t alive when it was delivered to our table, though it looked as though it could slither away at any moment. There was no struggle beyond that which was deciding to put it in my mouth and further deciding to not spit it out (a decision I had to make again and again with each chew). My wife had little confidence in me; she was surprised that I didn’t immediately spew octopus parts all over the table. She should instead have been pleased that I didn’t decide to play with my food. I imagined the octopus was still alive and attempting escape, sticking its head out of my mouth and then its arms, and then leaping from side to side between my teeth so the outline of writhing tentacles could be seen through the bulging skin of my cheeks. I imagined widening my eyes in surprise, pretending to be attacked from within, standing up and making loud gurgling noises and then collapsing to the floor in a convulsive heap. It was a fabulous opportunity. Fortunately for her and for the other guests at the restaurant, I was too involved in the adventure of chewing and swallowing to play much with this particular morsel.

The experience wasn’t entirely negative. It didn’t taste so good that I would want to order another helping—ever, ever again—yet my personal pride-o-meter peaked in the moments after I swallowed and kept it down. I was later told tradition says eating such things brings one courage and stoutness of heart. This must be true; that night I conquered a fear I didn’t even know I had until it reared its tiny head. Fortunately, I happen to know there are a great many fears yet within me; there must be a great many adventures waiting.

A DevolutioN Trailer!

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 00:37:33 GMT

Pretty busy at the dayjob and at home, but I did sneak in time to finish this trailer for Mr. Yocum's cool online comic, DevolutioN.

The entire first issue can be found online at ComicCritique.Com.

A Little Stream O' Consciousness

Sat, 08 Sep 2007 04:39:31 GMT

Just a stream o' consciousness entry for tonight.

It's only barely still Friday; as I type the clock on the cable box insists on moving forward. Twelve minutes and change and then it's time for Saturday. I'm simultaneously sipping a glass of Yellow Tail Cabernet, channel surfing, and writing this blog entry. That commercial is on where a couple of anthropomorphized suburban turtles are complaining that Comcast internet is too fast for them, they prefer pokey DSL access. Clever, I suppose, in a vast-corporation-trying-to-win-my-money sort of way. Good voice actors, anyway.

The Sci-fi channel redux of Flash Gordon is on. Unfortunately it's not making the grade for me. I haven't given it much of a chance, I suppose. I'll say that the shows that I really enjoy manage to grab hold of me in a matter of seconds and don't let go: Battlestar Galactica, Buffy, a few others. Maybe it only takes a few seconds to learn how engaged the writers and actors are (or aren't). This new Flash Gordon is the TV equivalent of a candy bar that fails to satisfy: it looks sweet and indulgent but once the wrapper's off there's nothing inside, yet my tummy's just a little bigger as punishment for the effort. Not every show on television is required to be life-changing; they can indeed just be brain bubble gum, easy entertainment. Yet personally I have so little free time these days, I hate to waste it on bad television.

I was catching up on my reading last night, and Jack of Fables #13 was top of the pile (and #14 is due next Wednesday). Bill Willingham's writing is outstanding and Tony Akins' art told the story as well as the words did, and in some cases better. My favorite line from the book, when the current female lead is insulted by the self-aggrandizing Jack, who indicated she wasn't "hot": “I am too hot. I'm so hot I should be continued on the next girl.” Few lines make me laugh out loud, but that one did — I just didn't see it coming.

I spent a couple of hours tonight playing guitar, an activity which has not taken enough of my time lately. Tomorrow we'll spend the day in S's basement studio, bringing our indie album another step closer to completion. My fingers hurt after only two hours of playing, so I'm glad I've put in time the last few nights.

Well, although only a few paragraphs have passed for you readers, I'm well into Saturday now, and in a few short hours my daughter will playfully shout “Boo!” from the foot of our bed to ensure we're as awake as she is. I'm going to divert this stream of consciousness to dream time for a couple of hours before that happens.

Hasta, and thanks for reading.

Column: Infinite Crisis: The Audio Comic Book

Tue, 10 Jul 2007 03:51:52 GMT

I first started listening to audio books when — before my lovely wife and daughter came on the scene — I took myself on solitary road trips, trips designed to give myself a “writer’s” weekend away. The good audio books were really good, and the miles passed quickly, and the bad ones never made it past the first side of the first tape. Although those solitary trips are a thing of the past, I still find the urge to listen to the occasional audio book. Thus I found myself intrigued when I received an email solicitation from Graphic Audio. They had produced a “dramatized audio production” based on DC’s Infinite Crisis and were offering it up for review here at ComicCritique.Com. My inner geek grinned and rubbed his hands together with nerdish glee. While I often throw such offers out to our excellent contributors, I planned to keep this one to myself.

Part of my attraction to Graphic Audio’s production was that they had employed a full cast of actors to aurally render Infinite Crisis. I was very curious how this would work. Would a narrator’s booming voice intone, "Panel 1, Page 1," and describe the art and characters? Would it be a radio-style drama with special audio effects? After I started listening I realized this was clearly not based on the sequential art version of Infinite Crisis; there was too much narrated prose. Indeed, a quick search at Amazon.com turned up Infinite Crisis: The Novel, written by Greg Cox, and a visit to Graphic Audio’s site eventually turned up the not-easily-found promotional page for Infinite Crisis, which clarified that this audio book was indeed based on Greg Cox’s novel. (Greg Cox has also penned the just-released 52: The Novel, a few Star Trek books, and other pieces that fall directly in the pop-culture realm.)

It took a while — maybe an hour — to get used to experiencing a superhero story in this way. I initially took issue with Cox’s unnecessarily detailed descriptions of iconic characters and locations, and those same descriptions led me to believe he (or his editor) targeted certain passages at too broad an audience. How many non-comic book readers will read or listen to this book? Even so, after that first hour I found myself pleasantly involved in the story, to the point that I was reluctant to interrupt it even when I had to move on to my next task.

Graphic Audio did an excellent job of using all that the medium has to offer. Background music is well-placed, and appropriate effects on the voices (like reverb) place the listener in the room with the outstandingly-voiced characters. Of special note is the wicked speedster Zoom’s appearance. If you’re listening via headphones, you’ll hear Zoom’s voice zip from left ear to right ear and back again as he runs circles around his opponents. I found this very entertaining, and it gave me the sense that Graphic Audio really cared about telling this story in the best way possible. Interestingly, Graphic Audio seems to employ an entire cadre of voice actors who apparently all participate in the company’s various productions, making them as much a theater company as anything else.

If you’re new to audio books, brace yourself for a serious investment in time. While the longest movies (that I’m willing to watch) can weigh in at four hours, be prepared to spend up to twenty hours or more listening to a complete and unabridged audio book, and both parts of Infinite Crisis will take up fourteen hours of your life. Still, many big-city commuters easily spend fourteen hours a week traveling between home and work, and audio books are a nice way to pass the time, whether you’re driving or taking public transportation.

Infinite Crisis has been released in two parts, available separately for purchase and download from www.graphicaudio.net. Graphic Audio knows its customers own twenty-first century electronics and accordingly offer their books in several formats. Although I listened to the “.wma” review copy on my handheld, I’m partial to MP3 CDs (which Graphic Audio does offer), which allow hours and hours of an audiobook to all fit on a single MP3 CD and all play very nicely in most new car CD players. Graphic Audio also has instructions for burning your purchased book to a standard audio CD, which should meet the needs of just about everybody who wants to listen.

Sidebar: Louis’ Recommended Audio Books

My recommendations fit squarely in the realm of science fiction, fantasy, and comic books, and are not in any particular order.

· Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy: This is NOT someone reading Douglas Adams’ multi-volume “trilogy,” but rather the original BBC radio show, which seems difficult to find these days. This is a full-cast production outstandingly written and performed.

· Star Wars: Another BBC production (The BBC will make one more appearance in this list), this version follows Lucas’ novelization of Star Wars (as did the original Howard Chaykin Marvel comic book version) more than it does the film version.

· The Hobbit: Not everyone loves this BBC production, but I thought it was as perfect a full-cast audio drama of The Hobbit as can be made.

· Just a Geek: Wil Wheaton’s all grown up from his Star Trek: TNG days and has become a very compelling writer. This audio version of his autobiographical book Just a Geek benefits from his considerable acting and comedic talents. I made excuses to drive around just so I could listen to this book without interruption.

· Any Harry Potter Book: J.K. Rowling’s books are not presented as full-cast dramas, but the outstanding Jim Dale completely immerses the listener in the wizarding world.

· Any Artemis Fowl Book: Artemis Fowl is the anti-Harry Potter; he’s an evil genius bent on stealing impossible-to-steal items, and he hasn’t reached puberty yet. The audio books are excellently voiced by actor Nathaniel Parker.

· Thief of Time: ANY of Terry Pratchett's audio books are outstanding, and a must-read for fans of both humor and the fantasy genre, but for me Thief of Time stands above the rest. Of the other audio books on this list, this book is most similar to the Graphic Audio production of Identity Crisis in that a cast of voice actors bring this piece of prose to life. I’ve listened to this book ten times, easy.

Column: A Wizard World Virgin No Longer

Wed, 20 Jun 2007 19:03:52 GMT

Lines, Tickets, and Beers (Oh My)

Philadelphia, PA, 15 June 2007 — I spent the opening moments of my very first Wizard World sitting at the Independence Brew Pub, a short block away from the convention center. The line of fans waiting to get in to the show was astounding, stretching for a city block in each direction from the convention center’s main entrance. I knew it was the line for Wizard World because it was composed almost entirely of men wearing their finest superhero t-shirts. (My friend Steve notes this also matches the description of the line to get into a Rush concert.) Fortunately, the line to buy tickets was very short; these hundreds of comics fans all had tickets and were waiting in line simply to enter the convention center as soon as possible. Me, I could wait. After purchasing my day pass I hunted down the nearest bar, parked myself near a beer, and began to write this column, patiently waiting for the throngs to dissipate. My patience paid off; I got to have a relaxing lunch with my friend and ComicCritique.Com contributor Adam McGovern, and when we made our way to the convention center, all the lines were gone.

Paneling

On the opening Friday the show ran from only Noon until six in the evening, and despite my eagerness to walk the convention floor I really wanted to attend the panel discussions. Fortunately, Adam was assigned to cover three of the day’s panels for The Pulse, which made it easy to choose which panels to attend. Although we learned some tantalizing news about upcoming DC and Marvel comics events, what struck me most was how much these executives really cared about the characters and the stories. Joe Quesada impressed me as an Editor-in-Chief who has given deep thought to how all the stories and characters are allowed to progress; he takes his stewardship of the Marvel universe very seriously. DC’s Bob Wayne (Senior VP, Sales) and Mike Carlin (Senior Group Editor) ran the “Countdown” panel, and together they kept me (and most others in the audience) chuckling for nearly the entire panel session. While it was clear they take their stories and characters seriously, it was also clear that they meant to have fun at the panels. For them it was a chance to interact with the fans and duck questions about secret upcoming stories. As with the Marvel panel, through the dialogue we learned how much they care about the stories. Despite the fan-based ire Marvel and DC often endure, I left Wizard World with a welcome reminder that these executives are comic book fans too, and that all our favorite spandex-clad heroes appear to be in very good hands.

The “Other Side” of the Convention Floor

Somewhere between Artist’s Alley and the plethora of back-issue merchandisers I spotted a table with a simple sign that read “TAPS.” While some may have expected to hear a soulful bugle tune, I knew it for what it was: Sci-Fi’s Ghost Hunters team had stopped by Wizard World! I’m a huge fan of the show and I was privileged to shake the hands of Dave Tango and Steve Gonsalves, both regulars on the popular series. It’s one thing to shake Joe Q.’s hand (which I did), and another to shake hands with fellows whose faces I see regularly on television. Of the hundreds of people walking the convention floor, I was apparently the only one who noticed the TAPS crew, and having their undivided attention for a few minutes made me just a little goofy. I immediately transformed from hip and cool editor guy to fanboy: “Hey, I’m a big fan!” I blurted. Then, “What are you guys doing at a comic convention?” Like the experienced TV personalities they have become, they congenially indulged my enthusiasm. I left with a few signed copies of TAPS Paramagazine, a DVD, and a good story.

Thus ended my first experience at a Wizard World convention. One thing I missed that is present at smaller conventions is the ubiquitous portable table that lives near the main entrance, the place where those of us on the small frayed end of the comics industry can leave some of our printed material to share with other fans. I like to both leave ComicCritique.Com material and to collect what others have left as well, and didn’t have that opportunity at Wizard World PA. Perhaps there are simply too many attendees at a Wizard World con for the organizers to worry about such things, and maybe a table was present on the weekend that I didn’t see, as I was only able to attend on Friday. A small disappointment, not enough by any stretch to ruin my experience, but worth a mention.

As for the rest, I got to shake hands with Bob Wayne, Joe Quesada, the TAPS crew, to see and meet many comics fans and creators, and had a darn good microbrew to boot. It was a good day.

Some thoughts on journaling

Sun, 13 May 2007 04:45:23 GMT

It was a crazy time for me. My first marriage had just ended, and with it my world. I had never been an avid journaler. I owned a blank book, but it languished unused in one of my bookcases, hidden from sight by a thousand dollars worth of computer manuals. At this time of great trauma something inside demanded that I find that blank book and use it. That “something inside” didn’t say what to write, didn’t promise that I would write a great or even a mediocre novel, it simply said “write.” So I camped out at my desk at home and wrote. Even though the writing was moderately satisfying, I was put off by the solitary nature of the practice. I felt alone enough with my wife packing her bags. It was my loneliness that drew me to a nearby pub, journal in hand, where I could have the sounds and activity of the world as background music for my writing.

I would write for hours at a time, nursing a pint of my favorite draught. Sometimes people would strike up a conversation (“Hey man, you writin’ a book?”), but most often I would be left to my own devices. I wrote many different places but became a regular at a few, and other regulars came to know me as “that guy who writes.” After a few weeks I began to notice some positive effects. I returned home after one evening of journaling mentally and emotionally drained and realized my once-overwhelming feelings of craziness were subsiding. I had said to my journal all I could possibly say for that day, and the next morning I woke to find that purging provided me an astonishingly good night's sleep. I learned that I could write for as little as thirty minutes and still feel better for having written. The subject matter was almost inconsequential, but writing on particularly troubling issues made for a more satisfying session than had I simply described my surroundings, the quality of the beer, or lusted after the barmaid via a few furtively scrawled paragraphs. My journal was becoming not only a confidant but also my own personal demon slayer. It gave me power over my own psyche that I'd never had before. I could have a problem, write about it for a time, and eventually arrive at a new understanding about how to deal with it. It was a self-portrait in Waterman black ink, a friendly reflection who knew my mind better than I did.

That was several years ago now. I’ve calmed a bit since those first days of Herculean journaling feats. Only rarely will I rack up twenty weekly hours of journaling, but I still keep my journal with me almost one hundred percent of the time. I’ve journaled almost any place one could imagine: on the subway; at my office before a big meeting; among museum paintings and sculptures. As I write, I learn about myself. As I learn about myself I learn about others. It remains a compelling paradox: the more I go within, the more connected I feel to others and the world around me.

I've decided that journaling is about perspective. My theory is that journaling lets us see our situations and ourselves in the third person, giving us perspective we would not have otherwise. Have you noticed how easily you can give advice to a friend because you can see so many sides of his or her situation? Yet at the same time you might wonder why your friend can't see what's going on, why she's in such a state of confusion. It's because she's mired in the situation. Aside from seeking your advice, she has no means of stepping outside the issue, walking around and giving it an objective kick in the tires. Journaling could help her with that, provide her the perspective she needs to find some peace or direction.

Journaling is a clearing of one's mental debris. It has the effect of letting me excise the most uncomfortable of thoughts. A poet friend once said it most eloquently to me: “I write it down and then I don't think about it any more.” The latter is not a conscious decision; once written down, the subject has often been dealt with and may not demand to be written about again. That said, we all recognize that a single journaling session may not cure all the ills of one’s life. I wrote for a solid six months about the end of my marriage. There were a good many pages describing my ex-wife in rather unflattering terms. There were pages and pages where I just wrote the pain, used my pen to express over and over again all that which had welled up within. The repetition proved natural and necessary. Those things were on my mind, so that’s what I wrote. There is no question that journaling, because I used it to actively process my feelings, sped me along the route to healing.

I try not to be an evangelist for journaling — I don't want to be pushy. I've enjoyed such dramatic results from consistent journaling over the years that I feel compelled to share my good fortune. I recognize that journaling is just a tool. It may be that one's tool is sketching. Or playing an instrument. Or exercise. Or meditation. Words, however, are extremely powerful. A perhaps unfortunate truth is that in order to overcome pain we must look it directly in the eye, sit and chat with it, get to know it. In this way pain serves us: if we survive the ordeal we come away wiser, more courageous, and more worldly.

Occasionally friends spot me writing in my journal and they stop and share their own journaling experiences. One said she journaled avidly for a time but was mortified at her own words and ultimately destroyed the volumes in fear that someone would find and read them. It is important to note that there is value in simply putting pen to paper. That is the process of processing, if you will. I believe --- know --- that the act of writing is what helps with the healing. Saving the journals is not necessarily a requirement. I personally enjoy reading my own past volumes, even the painful ones. If nothing else, they provide me perspective on how far I've come. Also, saving my journal allows me to provide a record for future history. I'm not so conceited as to think that my journal will end up anywhere spectacular. Maybe a volume will end up in the hands of my great-great grandson who will read it and say, “Gosh, he wasn't so different from me, he had the same feelings I've had.”

Despite the fact that my life has none of the pain it had when I was first spurred to put pen to paper, I still keep a journal. I’m still drawn to it because of something I learned about a year into my journaling experience. When through writing I eventually moved past my life’s biggest trauma, some interesting things began to appear in my entries. These things were ideas, philosophies. Some were brilliant, and I couldn't believe they had come from my own hand. It was a revelation. Not the ideas themselves, but the notion that once I dealt with the pain and cleared the debris there was something deeper lurking inside that was all about good things, grand ideas, beautiful philosophies. It was inspiring. Now I also seek the wisdom just beneath the pain. That's why I still journal, because some small part of me believes that by writing just for me I can somehow make things better for everybody, maybe even change the world. Crazy, huh?

The Geek Within

Fri, 16 Mar 2007 00:09:00 GMT

After a fifteen hour workday followed by a sleepless night, that part of me I call “Manly But Sensitive Lou” is not running my show. There’s another part of me called “Locker Room Lou.” He gains strength when Manly But Sensitive Lou is tired. Most of the time Manly But Sensitive is in charge; he’s actually the stronger of the two (fellow geeks may reference Star Trek TOS, “The Enemy Within.” Non-geek readers, get thee to Google if you care to be in on the reference).

That Locker Room Lou was in charge was most apparent when I picked up a couple of carpool passengers on the way home. One woman sat next to me in the front seat, another sat in the back seat. The woman in front looked suddenly concerned. She said, “Oh my! Someone just asked me for directions and I accidentally sent her the wrong way, and now I see she’s blind.” Manly But Sensitive Lou perked up his ears, suddenly worried what might happen next. Locker Room Lou was there to respond: “You’ve probably destroyed her life,” he said in his best deadpan, too quickly for Manly But Sensitive Lou to stop him. Manly But Sensitive covered his eyes and leaned backward, mortified. Locker Room Lou smirked inwardly. I looked over at my passenger and she met my glance with a look that was 95% shock and perhaps — perhaps — 5% amusement. In a final burst of energy Manly But Sensitive managed to mumble, “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

I wrested control back from both of them so I could drive home in the rainy weather, but I could hear them bickering as Locker Room Lou attempted to wonder aloud at all the things that could happen to a blind woman lost in the big city during rush hour. But I take driving very seriously, so I remained in charge for the rest of the way home. After I released my passengers at the drop point I risked an inward glance and saw that Locker Room Lou had pinned Manly But Sensitive Lou down and was farting on his face.

Hopefully I’ll survive the evening without any requirements for sensitivity.

All Technologied Up

Tue, 13 Mar 2007 15:03:45 GMT

I'm all technologied up. Really, I am. Evidence: I'm on a moving train typing this blog, and while still on this same moving train I'll be able to post this blog to its web-based home. I think. (If you're reading this, it worked.) This particular technolgy — cell-based broadband — will greatly increase the opportunities I have to do work on ComicCritique.Com, which remains as high in my priority list as possible.

In related news, this past week I made ComicCritique.Com an official business operating in my home county. I don't project any sort of profit for two years or more, but in the meantime I'll be able to make business-related purchases and reflect such purchases on my 2007 tax return next year. This is a big step for me and for ComicCritique.Com, paving the way for growth that will serve both CCdC's excellent contributors, and I hope even the comic book industry at large.

Look Up from the Keyboard

It pays to look out the window. The train just rolled past a car junkyard, the kind where the cars have all been smushed to long, horizontal rectangles and stacked neatly at one end of the yard. This is the sort of place where dramatic action scenes take place in the movies, but it looked pretty sedate as we rolled by.

Okay, off to do some CCdC work...

Journal-less

Tue, 16 Jan 2007 15:02:30 GMT

Still don't have the hang of writing the "7" after the "200," but it's coming slowly. Also, it's early. At this time of the morning I'm usually struggling with my daughter, convincing her that daycare is actually a good thing and that even though we leave her there every day to fend for herself among feral toddlers (and some feral daycare teachers), socialization is important for an only child. I also gently explain that if she doesn't want to watch stupid Barney while everyone else does, that's fine with me. Civil disobedience. She listens intently and repeats only one word, "stupid," and with a grave look I suddenly know that's the single word she'll repeat over and over at the most inopportune times. I feel like a mediocre daddy. I know I won't really know what kind of father I've been until I see her choose a husband and then be a parent. In the meantime, Barney really is stupid. Give me Blue's Clues any day.

I'm on the 7am train, heading out of town on business. Day job business. Not my favorite thing to do — I really don't like to leave my family for long — but I must admit I enjoy the train, packed as it is. I generally like to catch a 10am, but the demands of work today require that I be at my destination at 10am, so the early train was it. I'm at one of those combination meeting table/travel seat things, sitting across from a businessman in a yarmulke and next to two businesswomen clearly on the way to a business meeting. My habit in boarding the train is usually to have a cup of Au Bon Pain coffee in my hand, and my journal, a nice, leather-bound book along with a couple of nice fountain pens. Yet today, with all my preparation for these few days away, I left my journal at home. I generally sit at one of these tables and write, let my pen move all on its own across the page. I don't much care what's going on the paper, just that they are words and that they make the journey from my subconscious to written reality. I'm writing now on a new laptop. I love the laptop, it's the first mobile computer I've purchased in the 21st century, and it's nice and fast and has impressive battery life. Yet my journal has been my staunch ally on every trip I've taken for the last ten years, and ten days with a new laptop and I've seemingly forgotten my low tech compadre. Still, I have a need to write, to make the time go by and to clear my mind. This is my meditation as much as anything else. So I type, thankful for the long battery life. And I'll not forget my journal again.

Winter is finally arriving in our part of the country. While the west has been slammed with winter storms for the past few weeks, we've had temperatures as if Spring had arrived early. It's been really pleasant, and as of this moment I actually don't see much a problem with global warming. At any rate, temperatures are dropping today to the tune of twenty degrees by dinner time, and the weather seers suggest we should become accustomed to this chill for the next while. I'm ready.

I had plans to haul my guitar on this trip. There are times when I have hours at a stretch in my hotel room, all to myself. I had an idea that I would record some licks, practice with a new scale or two (the modal scales are calling out to me to be learned). But I have so much to do for CCdC (which is fun and satisfying to do) I couldn't bring myself to haul the thing. Now that I'm on the full train I'm glad I left it in its spot at home; it would have been a challenge traveling between the narrow aisle with two bags and a gig bag. There will be time enough for jamming later this week, probably.

All for now, Universe. I've finished my coffee, and I'm about 30 minutes from my destination. Enough time to edit one piece before arrival.

Finally!

Tue, 09 Jan 2007 22:55:02 GMT

I go for stretches where it's difficult to impossible to spend any time updating ComicCritique.Com. I still wait for the day when it's my full-time job, and when that day comes there will be much rejoicing at Ehlvee Manor. In the meantime, it takes a back seat to being a daddy and a husband and that little thing called a "day job."

Updates that were just posted:

Two reviews from Joe, Girls #20 and an advance review Squadron Supreme: Hyperion vs. Nighthawk #1 of 4
One review from Matt R, Fables #1-5, covering the first arc in that relatively new book.

Coming tonight, if I can manage it:

A column from Matt Y.
An appreciation from John D about the fellow who created Green Lantern (whose name I can't recall just now), the fellow passed away late last year.
One or two pieces from Hueso, our newest contributor

Land of Vacant Stares

Wed, 06 Dec 2006 17:47:04 GMT

I've been visiting my grandfather who has been bedridden in a hospice since September. When I saw him back then, he was in rough shape. We did little more than watch television together. Now, almost three months later, he looks his old self. He still isn't walking, but he's almost defiantly optimistic that he'll walk again, even if it is with the use of a walker. The facility he's in was a little depressing. I can't tell if it's a dedicated hospice or simply a long term care facility. He shares his room with a retired army colonel who is saddled with dementia. Last night while Grandpa and I chatted quietly, the colonel was watching his own television on his half of the room and having a fairly animated conversation with someone only he could see. The colonel's been there a couple of years.

The hallway outside the room is fairly active: care workers scuttling back and forth; the occasional visitor walking by, lost in a very confusing maze of corridors; residents dragging their own wheelchairs by shuffling their feet. Yet the vast majority of the residents I saw sat motionless in wheelchairs in the hallways, faces completely bland, as if they've forgotten how to have expressions. Many of those bland faces made eye contact with me as I passed by. It was a little disquieting when it happened. I noticed only one other resident who seemed as alert as grandpa, and when I passed he sat in his own bed reading a paperback novel.

The workers there are very nice, as one would hope. Although it's not a great place to be simply because of its nature, I feel like grandpa is getting good care.

And now for something completely different...

For good or ill, my mind wonders. "Wanders" too, but mostly wonders. I had a wonder just when I sat down at the gate and wanted to jot it down, and that's why I'm doing an entry at all. There's a book in the world called Flatland. It's very well known and I'm guilty of never having read it. It discusses a world --- a universe --- of only two dimensions, and all that entails. We exist in three dimensions (some would say four, I suppose, the fourth dimension being "time"), so we can imagine a two-dimensional world. Imagine if I, my three-dimensional self, attempted to stand on a two-dimensional world in a two-dimensional universe, how would I appear to the 2d denizens? They would see only my footprint and assume that was me, all of me. Today's wonder --- do we exist in only three dimensions, or is that all we can observe while resident in this 3d universe? Imagine if I put only the fingertips of one hand on the ground in 2d land: would I appear to be in five locations simultaneously? For me this immediately draws into question how we perceive time and distance.

We're about to board, so I'm posting and running. More geeking out later.

"Ask Me About my STD" / Comics: Fables, Tron, We 3

Sun, 03 Dec 2006 15:49:41 GMT

Just in RTM (“Random Thought Mode”) today.

“Ask me about my STD.”

These words were emblazoned on a young woman’s t-shirt in the most recent episode of Veronica Mars. The shirt was at once darkly funny and a biting commentary on excessive drinking and promiscuity at college frat parties. I managed to watch the most recent episode only last night (DVRs are cool), and was completely drawn into the story. This episode was a big deal, the (apparent) culmination of a rape investigation Veronica has been conducting all season long. I say “apparent” because — although a new mystery presented itself — I’m surprised that this mystery was resolved mid-season. Regardless, I’m still in. I think new episodes are done until January.

Comics: Fables, Tron, and We 3

I’m managing to get some reading done, and I’m enjoying it immensely. I’ve finally jumped on the Fables bandwagon. Holy cow, what a good piece of writing. Some of Willingham’s work is just brilliant, not only in the writing but in the ingenious plots that weave together separate well-known fables in such a way that it seems to me that they’ve always belonged together. I just read the hardback Fables: 1001 Nights of Snowfall (released in Oct 2006) and was astounded. My plan over the next several months is to slowly catch up on the Fables trades that are out there, which collect all four or five years’ worth of Fables monthlies.

Also just read the second issue of SLG’s Tron series, and it continues to be entertaining and compelling. I reviewed the first issue at ComicCritique.Com, and my only disappointment is the time lag between issues: the first issue came out in June and issue two only hit in November. Still, it’ll remain on my pull list.

The one book I’ve purchased and am eagerly waiting to read is a trade version of Grant Morrison’s We 3. I have a plane trip coming up soon and that’ll be in the carry-on.

"Everybody Loves a Hero."

Fri, 24 Nov 2006 04:03:49 GMT

“Everybody loves a hero. People line up for them, cheer them, scream their names, and years later they'll tell how they stood in the rain for hours just to get a glimpse of the one who taught them to hold on a second longer. I believe there's a hero in all of us, that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and finally allows us to die with pride, even though sometimes we have to be steady and give up the thing we want the most, even our dreams.” --- Aunt May to Peter in Spider-Man 2.

A fine piece of writing, and nicely delivered by actress Rosemary Harris. I happened to catch Spider-Man 2 on television tonight, and found this moving enough to jot it down and post it here, for future reference as much as anything.

Column: 22 Nov 2006

Thu, 23 Nov 2006 02:30:06 GMT

[Including a copy of my latest column, mostly because it tells an end to the story of the server crash.]

Egads, Another Crash.
By Louis Vitela
Published: 2006-11-22

System downtime is inevitable, one of the unhappy truths of our technological world. ComicCritique.Com was offline for most of Monday and some of Tuesday (yesterday). Our email system was offline until either late last night or early this morning, I can't tell which. It does seem, however, that email sent to us during this particular outage will not arrive at our inboxes. If you attempted to send us some e-notes during our outage time, please resend your missive; we appear to be back to normal now.

Fresh Reviews

Yes, it's true: I've actually had time to publish some of the excellent reviews our contributors have turned in over the past few weeks. Of note are John Daniels’ review of the finale of the Hatter M mini which is just hitting shelves today and J.W.’s look at The Trouble with Igor, a compelling graphic novel told entirely without dialogue. J.W. also has a look at a quality independent book, Dr. Id, Psychologist of the Supernatural. Finally, have a look at Matt Yocum’s latest piece to see why WildCATS #1 might be the last issue of that series he checks out. Keep checking back for new reviews or subscribe to our RSS newsfeed to learn about new stories as their posted.

Thanks for stopping by, and for our U.S.-based readers and Americans overseas, have an excellent Thanksgiving holiday!

ComicCritique.Com Crash!

Mon, 20 Nov 2006 21:33:44 GMT

There's not been much time in my life for ComicCritique.Com these past few weeks, and given the relative silence from my fellow CCdC contributors things have been the same with them. It's normal; we're all adults with day jobs. But I finally have time and space to do some much-needed posting, and crash! The hosting provider appears to be having a whole host of problems. Near as I can tell, the server on which CCdC lives has been down for a good five hours or so. I consider myself a good user in that I check the hosting provider's "network news" messages before calling. They're actually pretty good about posting messages that give an idea of what's going on and naming the problem servers. On those occasions I do call, I'm greeted with a help desk person who at least understands my concern, and they say as nice as humanly possible, "It'll be up when it's up." So I minimize my attempts to contact them during such times and keep a steady "ping www.comiccritique.com" running in a window. I'll call later and get an in-person (in-voice) status, just because it makes me feel better to know there's somebody aware of and working on my tech issue.

I have more than once done exhaustive research into new hosting providers, and it appears that they're all about the same. Unless I care to host my own server (I don't, at least not now), there's not much I can do about availability and up-time. This company has done pretty well by me, and I'd give them a B or a B+. Our longest outage was maybe three months ago. We were down basically from Friday morning through Monday morning. I wasn't amused, and that was the incident that really sent me hunting for a replacement provider. I just couldn't find one --- for what I can afford --- that seemed to be any better than what I'm using. So here we are. One day, when CCdC generates some cash flow, I'll make an upgrade a priority, even if it means running some things from the basement server room at Ehlvee Manor.

Stay tuned...

Morning / How to Keep a Journal

Sun, 19 Nov 2006 13:43:49 GMT

For a time I wrote every morning. Even before my first trip to the bathroom, I'd roll out of bed and write. I was executing Julia Cameron's "morning pages." Her notion was that every morning one should rise and write, by hand, at least three pages. Write what? Anything and everything, but just write, non-stop. I used it for stream-of-consciousness stuff, or to recall dreams I had just left or to add a little salve to some lingering pain. That's what this morning and yesterday morning feel like to me: morning pages, this time in digital format. It's still difficult to see a blog taking the place of my tried-and-true paper journal. I can tell the effect for me as the writer is the same; writing is healing and empowering for me, and it's especially interesting now when I don't really need any healing or empowering just now. At this moment in time I'm not journaling a great deal, though I certainly turn to it to help me work certain difficulties out. Yet to some extent all my writing muscles are spent on comiccritique.com, leaving little time and energy for journaling, or blogging for that matter. In writing these entries I'm as much being a computer geek as a journaler, since I'm testing blogging software and the like. At any rate, since I'm writing and letting my fingers and mind take me where it will, the little voices in my head (not the ones that tell me kittens belong in the freezer, the other voices) are saying I should give a quick how-to on keeping a journal. Sure, Voices, I'll do that.

How to Keep a Journal

First, I've always called it a "journal," not a "diary." They might be identical to some minds, but "diary" sounds just too girly for me. I imagine a diary being kept by a teenager where she recounts the trials of school and the injustice being too young for a forehead piercing. Meanwhile, "journal" evokes images of a 19th century sea captain describing how he had to remove his own left leg and attach a peg leg himself because the ship's surgeon had just lost both arms to a giant squid and was at the time performing surgery with his toes in an attempt to save a man from a cutlass wound. That's a journal.

Second, get the right equipment. One can indeed keep a journal on a computer or a laptop, but I recommend going for the traditional gear: a good pen and a leather-bound blank book. Computers are fine, but they require electricity and space (even a small laptop requires some elbow room). With a good blank book and a good pen I can journal almost anywhere at any time (and I have). First let's discuss the book itself. It should be leather bound with archival quality pages. This is a book that looks good and will last years. My personal preference is that the pages are unlined, but those are rather difficult to find sometimes. You'll find your own preference after a time. At this point you might say to yourself that you don't want your words to be stored forever on archival quality paper. I hear that — I've been there. You're wrong. You can lock the journal up so nobody reads it for years and years if you don't want to share it, I'm all for that (I don't share mine). At the same time, I want my daughter and her children to have my journal (of which there are several volumes now). I'm not proud of everything I wrote in those volumes, but the aboslute worst that will come of my descendants reading them is that they'll see I was — am — human.Write it down in a real book. Trust me. Expect to spend anywhere between $15 and $60 for a good blank book.

On to the pen, known in high-falootin' as the "writing instrument." DON'T SKIMP HERE. Go to an office supply store and get a really good pen. Expect to spend at least $50 or $60. I prefer fountain pens, but there are excellent pens of all sorts at that price level. Aside from being cool man jewelry, high-quality writing instruments make the act of putting ink on paper nearly effortless. If you're going to be a serious journaler, make it easy on yourself to write for an hour or more. In my days of heavy journaling I would go for three hours at a clip (no lie), and it wouldn't have been possible without the Mont Blanc I had in my hand.

So that's it for the equipment. Now for the whens and wheres. I journal whenever I have time and a space, which means that I keep my book and pen with me at all times. Yes, it admittedly sounds a little neurotic, but time and again it's proven a Good Thing(tm) to have my journal with me. If I'm setting out on a journaling mission, one of my choice spots is to head to a bar on a weekend afternoon. I like to sip a beer and put pen to paper right at the bar itself. I don't seek solitude when I'm journaling; I like to be out in the world in some way.

How long should you write? I like to go at least thirty minutes. My experience is that it takes me that long to write the things that have to be written: where I am, what's been bugging me, how I'm feeling. Once that is out of the way (and arguably a good enough reason to keep a journal at all), I move on to other things. I simply write and see where the pen takes me. It's meditative and rewarding. And I've come away from some journaling sessions feeling as though I've solved the mysteries of the universe, at least until the next beer arrives.

That's my how-to on keeping a journal in a very big nutshell. I'm off for another cup of coffee and to move on with the day.

The Value of Checking Out

Sat, 18 Nov 2006 14:46:39 GMT

I have other things I need to work on (who doesn't), but I learned long ago that if I just write what demands to be written first, everything else comes more easily.

I asked one of my guitar students recently if he'd ever had the experience of starting to play and then “waking up” afterwards. I was greeted with squinty eyes and an unspoken expectation that he was about to endure another of my barely-comprehensible philosophical discussions. Dang. I know he plays sports, so I tried that angle. “Have you ever made a great play, but only realized it after the play was done and the point was scored?” Bupkus. Ever the intrepid teacher, I forged on:

I call the experience “checking out,” but athletes and others call it “being in the zone.” [footnote] I've been fortunate enough to have the experience as a performer, as a programmer, as an athlete (though calling myself an athlete strains the word to its bursting point), and as a writer. When performing, the experience was absolutely one of starting the song and then “waking up” afterwards. To this day I have only fuzzy memories of those performances and only know that at those times I played as well as I possibly could. There's an aspect of letting one's self get lost in the act; maybe it's more accurate to say “surrendering” to the music or the task. It is meditative, but a meditation in motion, where I am simultaneously in and out of my body. Even better: I'm getting out of my own way.

(...)

I'll explore this further very soon, but I have to run to a lesson.

It's fair to note that others may have different experiences or articulate them differently, but my own experiences are similar enough to those I've read about that I feel comfortable attempting to share them.

Being a Geek

Sat, 18 Nov 2006 12:18:18 GMT

What do geeks think of when they rise before 7am on a weekend? Well, this geek thinks, "Egads. I'm the only one in my family up! Quick, rise you lazy fool and turn on your laptop! Dis be writin' time!" The ingredient missing is a cup of my world-famous coffee, but the coffee maker is too loud to run when my wife and daughter are sleeping.

In full-on computer geek mode, I'm testing two things. First, I'm testing a distribution of Linux called Ubuntu (version 6.10). I've been using Linux almost since it became a bootable operating system way back in 1993, and I definitely know my way around the system. I've tried a whole bunch of different distributions (called "distros" by the Linux community) and Ubuntu is by far the most impressive. I'm sure there are others equally as impressive; I simply haven't tried them and likely won't. One of the reasons I tried Ubuntu was because I wanted a Linux that understood all my hardware and didn't require hours of time hunting down drivers and inserting them into the running kernel or requiring me to do kernel recompiles. I can do all that stuff, I simply don't have the time to mess with it these days. But last night in a fit of curiousity I downloaded Ubuntu's latest version from a server in Chicago and installed it to the old Dell pIII/500 I use. So far I'm very impressed. It understands my 3Com wireless card and didn't make me sacrifice a goat to get wirelessly connected to my LAN. Also this is my first real experience using Gnome after years of using either KDE or some geekish small and light window manager (used FLWM for a long time). Gnome's seamless integration with the OS is impressive. I'll still open an Xterm (command-line session to the uninitiate) for most operations cuz I'm most comfortable typing my commands, but I like what I'm seeing here.

Speaking of typing my commands, the second geek mode item I'm testing is a nifty Perl program called JLJ. It's simply a command-line editor that integrates with my blog host. That means I open a command-line session, type "jlj" and start typing a blog entry, no browser required. I like stuff like this. I imagine it means I can use any editor I want, which for me will be Emacs or one of its clones.

I think I have another entry in me for today, but I want to post this and see what it looks like.

A real journal entry

Sun, 05 Nov 2006 15:24:42 GMT

I write this entry with the presumption that it will only be read by me, at least for the time being. What do you call a blog with no readers? “A journal.” I've kept a written journal for years, with varying degrees of intensity. When I began it was my most treasured outlet to hold my thoughts and feelings about the end of my first marriage. I wrote every day for literally hours. After work I'd take myself to the local Bennigan's and at the speed of a pint per hour I'd sit at the bar and write and write. Usually I bought three pints but never quite finished that third one. The beer was both salve and rent for the barstool, and even among the crowd at the bar I managed to write non-stop for nearly three hours each visit. After almost a year of that level of writing I came to call myself a "writer," though it wasn't my day job. Also, I felt better than I had in years, despite a little weight gain from regular hits of Amstel Light.

Fast forward nine years. I'm still journaling, though not as heavily. I've met and married the perfect woman for me, and we have a daughter together. Yet I still have this need to write. In 2004 I tore my ACL fencing and the knee surgery incapacited me for about three weeks. During that time I had a brainstorm: I would start my own comic review site! My wife, who was simultaneously taking care of our 3-month-old daughter and her bedridden husband, wasn't as excited. Nevertheless, I registered the domain comiccritique.com and began work on building the site. Having the site would provide an outlet for both my hankerin' to write and my deep appreciation of comic books as a storytelling medium.

The site has grown and continues to grow, and I'm having as much fun writing the perl code as I am writing the reviews and columns. And I've had the added bonus of meeting (both in person and digitally) the group of comics fans who have become ComicCritique.Com contributors. An outstanding group of people.