Filing Cabinet of the Damned

Friday, December 29, 2006

The End

After two years and two hundred-some-odd posts, I'm ending Filing Cabinet of the Damned.


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I began this blog shortly after discovering the miracle of the Comic Internet Blogosphere Talkathon. The delightful madness of dickering over comics and pontificating about What It All Means beckoned to me. I had to join in.

Among my friends and family, I’m the only comic book reader. Filing Cabinet of the Damned provided an avenue to discuss matters that would only generate confused stares and eye-rollings from them.
Harv: “The prophecy says that Darkseid would be killed by his son…but who is his son, really? Orion, the child of his hated wife, a boy he traded away as a youth, a boy he never knew? Kalibak, the offspring of his mistress, a boy he ignored? Or Mister Miracle, the son of his greatest enemy, the boy entrusted to his care? The only boy he himself raised, the only boy who Darkseid cared to mold? Scott Free is Darkseid's true son. Scott will be the one who kills Darkseid in the end!”

Mrs. Harv: “That’s nice, dear. Is this ‘dark side’ the same one Darth Vader talked about? Is Pink Floyd involved? Whose son got away scot free?”

Filing Cabinet was intended to be an outlet for my enthusiasms and pet ideas, and as such, it succeeded, and succeeded brilliantly.

But after a while, I just plain ran out of things to say.

I still enjoy comics, but my excitement over yammering about said funnybooks isn’t there anymore. Recently I picked up a decent-sized stack of comics and the long-awaited Essential Defenders Volume Two, enjoyed the books quite a bit, and yet felt no desire to blog about either of them.

I also farted around with a jokey piece paralleling trends in modern comics and the horrors of Prog Rock, but the damn thing just wouldn’t gel, and, unlike a few months ago, I felt no urge to tinker with the piece.

And thus, I knew I was done.

Playing critic and the general yapping fool was fun for a time, but criticism is not, nor has it ever been, in my blood. Constructing semi-intelligent pieces about other folks’ work no longer feels rewarding. Instead, it feels like time lost from my own work.

All that said, I am not disappearing from the comic blogosphere, nor am I retiring the dumbass pseudonym of “Harvey Jerkwater.” The greatest joy I’ve derived from the comic blogosphere is the connection to like-minded fans it provides. It’s why I blogged in the first place. I’ll continue to read other folks’ comic blogs and make the odd comment here and there.

I’ll also be found elsewhere on the internet, though in non-comic-blog media. Pendant Productions has an upcoming anthology podcast show called Seminar, and I have scripts in the first and fourth episodes. Other junk from my fevered brain will wash up from time to time in other places, I’m sure.

On my way out, I’d like to thank some folks in the blogosphere who’ve made me feel welcome.

Mike Sterling, Neilalien, and Tim O’Neil, a trio of kind gentlemen who gave me my first taste of sweet, sweet publicity.

Scipio Garling of the Absorbascon and Devon Sanders of Seven Hells, who took significant time out of their busy Free Comic Book Day 2006 at Big Monkey Comics to chat with me about a great many things comical.

Dave Campbell, of Dave's Long Box, for his hospitality during my recent visit to Seattle. While in the Emerald City, he charmed the hell out of my wife; for the Dave, the Dave is a smooth devil. He also entertained us with a fine anecdote about Erik Estrada. Sadly, I myself have no anecdotes about Erik Estrada.

The whole crew at Comics Should Be Good, where I was an infrequent poster.

Peter B. Gillis, who wrote not only one of my all-time favorite comics, but a supportive e-mail as well.

Steve Englehart, who granted an interview to this psuedonymous nobody from nowhere.

And, most of all, a big fat thanks to all the readers and commenters on this here blog. I appreciate all of you folks. Really. No foolin'.

It’s been groovy. I’ve had fun.

And rather than drag on a blog I don’t feel like continuing simply for the sake of dragging it forward, it seems proper to end the whole enterprise.

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Truth be told, there's another reason beyond simple burnout. My burning out isn't new--I’ve nearly killed this blog a half-dozen times out of disinterest, only to come back when my enthusiasms for comics and nattering about comics rises up again. (“You know what the world needs? A country song about Garth Ennis…I should write one…”)

However, new demands on my time, attention, and enthusiasm have emerged, and, as per the grand cliché, my priorities have been rearranged, likely for a long, long time.

Said priority-rearranger is small, bald, and loud. And it’s not Brian Michael Bendis.

Wee Baby Jerkwater is coming in a day or two.


Damned if the prospect of figuring out how to fit clothes on a squirming baby and which end of the kid to diaper hasn’t sapped my will to prattle on about Steve Ditko and Alan Moore.

(It’s the head, right? The diaper goes over the head, doesn't it? Dammit, where’s that book…)

Eh, who knows. Maybe in three months I'll come crawling back to comic bloggitry, desperate to escape the tyranny of the tot. Probably not, though.

To all the fanboys and fangirls out there, keep it four-color, yo.

See you in the funny books.

Your Internet Bud,

Harvey Jerkwater

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