Can't Quite Get It Together
Lately I've been bored by the World-O-Comics, and can't muster up the enthusiasm to write about 'em.
Mainstream comics are so dull these days as to make my ears bleed, the few indy comics I've been digging aren't inspiring my usual silly odes, and I can't bring myself to raid old comics out of my boxes right now. I just did that with Groo the Wanderer.
A bunch of half-formed ideas for essays have drifted past my fevered brain as possibilities:
--A retrospective of boyhood-with-cable Gen-X touchstone movies, such as The Beastmaster, The Last Starfighter, and The Last Dragon. ("Who's the Master? Sho'Nuff!") Comics fandom wallows in nostalgia; why not wallow in a different mire for a bit?
--Copping from Dave's Long Box again and including a few of the great "F$*% YEAH!" moments in film.*
--P.G. Wodehouse: The Masta! (A sample passage from The Masta: "We exchanged significant glances. At least, I gave him a significant glance and he looked like a stuffed frog, his habit when being discreet." Heh.)
--"Gray Hats and Tin Stars: The Hooerhouse America of Jonah Hex."**
All of these are in some stages of completion on my hard drive, and will likely see the light of day sooner or later, as soon as I get off my ample and hirsute butt.
Then there's my Big Fat Vanity Project: a version of the Seven Soldiers of Victory project, this time done for Marvel Comics, and by yers truly.
Grant Morrison's SSoV project is impressive, but more than anything, it looked to me like a hell of a lot of fun to write.
So I'm doing it too, despite the fact it'll never see print. Recycling and reviving old properties by reinterpreting them and creating a collection of interlocking miniseries with a unifying theme running through them all?
In case you're wondering, yes, as I suspected, it's a blast to write. Now if only I can develop it to the point where it's a blast to read. Therein lies the challenge.
A real post will follow soon. Throwing this junk onto a page helped clear the decks for actual thinking and suchlike. Phew.
*If you don't feel like screaming "F*$& YEAH!" at least twice during The Right Stuff, you are a dirty, dirty communist and probably torture kittens with car batteries.
**Note the faux-academic title. Hells yeah! Pretension is fun!
But you can tell I never went to graduate school due to the title's lack of words like "hermeneutics" and "epistomology." Next year I'll see about working that crap in. How about "The Ontology of Squirrel Girl: Nihilism, Neoplatonism, Nietzsche, and Nut(s)?" Man, I feel like Baudrillard already.