The Demonweasel Speaks

I’m a generally unfuckwitted, liberal, not-too-generous, not-too-selfish, pathetically simple-minded, dribbling child!
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So, my bike is magical. Every time I ride it to work, it rains. God, is it brilliant or what?

Hellboy is super-fucking-mega-sweet. It has the perfect mix of action, heart, comedy depth, and manages to stay true to the sprit of the comic when it strays from the letter. I hate those that whine and bitch when some things from a comic are changed for a movie. Sometimes, it just needs to be done when you change mediums. It�s a fact, move on. So yeah, Hellboy, go see it. It opens this Friday, so make your plans now. For reals.

I�ve been listening to a lot of rap music lately. Dunno why, because really, I�m not down with my music at this moment. When I have Winamp on I�m usually skipping through the almost 800 songs on my playlist in a kind ADD-esque haze. I�m downloading a bunch of Gray album songs (Jay-Z�s �Black Album� remixed with the Beatles �White Album�), so maybe it�s just a lack of something new that�s causing my musical malaise.

Y�know, I always scratch my head when I see a bunch of new IPs show up on my tracker, and I can�t recognize them at all. It�s even more peculiar when it looks like they�ve just found the site from typing in the domain and not from any kind of link. Curiouser and curiouser. Who reads this thing? I know the people I email update notifications too, but who else? I guess that�s a �how many licks does it take to get to the middle of a tootsie pop� level mysteries.

Basketball is still feeling hella lame lately. All the games I�ve seen lately have been blowouts, and even worse, blowouts by the Lakers. That�s just a thousand kinds of suck. It�ll be interesting to see what happens in the playoffs this year, and I guess I�m just coasting until then.

Speaking of Hellboy, this past Wednesday Dark Horse put out a 25 cent edition of �The Corpse,� one of the most well-loved Hellboy short stories. So, find a comic store out there and pick it up. It�s way good. I gave the copy they were giving away at the movie theater (by a much more organized store than the one I work for, that put their logo on the covers, and put gift certificates and prizes redeemable at their store�*sigh*) to my non-comic reader neighbors who babysat for me, and they both loved. I get a Crusades-level high converting people to the Church of Graphic Arts.

I need to put myself up for sainthood. ;)

My own creative efforts have been stalling like a bastard lately. It�s irritating. I need to get back in the game. In the latest Lehane book I�m reading, they are talking about what makes one of the characters a good PI, and he says �He loves the *work,* big case or small.�

Do I love the work? I dunno. It�s what I want, it�s how I want to make my living, but do I love staring at the computer screen, trying to come up with the right turn of phrase? Do I love trying to compress what�s in my head into words? I think so, but I wonder if those who love the work even have to ask themselves that. There are times, lately, when I think about other things that, if my past had been different, I�d be good at or have pursued at the time. But who knows? I�ve been told lately that I think too much sometimes, and there�s not a lot of lying in that.

I love getting results. That�s what can be frustrating about writing, is that the gratifications aren�t instantaneous. You put something out there�and you wait. And you wonder. It�s not like telling a joke or story in person where you get that instant feedback or reaction, and can play off that. Writing is like planning a land war in Asia, all seeing around corners and waiting for the results to come back to you.

Plus �a change, plus c’est la m�me chose, non?

I can promise you two things; that I�ll always look this good, and that I remain�

So Is hould be paying attention to basketball as we head into playoff season but I’ve had kind of a B-Ball lethargy ever since the Nets were sold. I know they aren’t moving to Brooklyn for another couple of years, but it’s just heartbreaking. It’s like meeting the love of your life, and then have them get hit by a bus.

Oh wait, that happened to me last night. Yes, my girlfriend got hit by a bus as she was crossing the street. Yes, she is okay, although feels like, well, she was hit by a bus. She is, and through her, I am, very lucky.

But basketball…eh. I’ll watch the playoffs, sure. That’s a given. The Nets are doing well, that’s great, I’ll root for them, but in a way I’m kind of sad that I’m going to have to be a Knicks fan now (because seriously, when your team leaves you, you can’t be a looser and follow them, you have to hate them back, like they obviously hate you). I mean, NJ has nothing of it’s own. The Giants are a New York team even though they play in Jersey. It’s lame, but that’s the way it is.

I was watching the Kings/Lakers game earlier, and it was a savage beating. A travesty to watch, but that’s because the Lakers were the ones doing the beating. If it had been Sac-town laying the smackdown, it’d have been a joyous event. But no, the Devil Lakers were winning. With thier fiery lake of hot, evil, devilness. Devil Lakers, fo shore.

I started a new short story tonight. We’ll see what happens. I’m hoping it will be finishable and all that. I’m still not used to things actual being finished, and that makes me sad. I haven’t gotten myself trained to expect that, to know the progress and ebb and flow of starting something, finishing it, editing it, making it better, having a final, polished thing. Writing is always so haphazard for me.

And here I am looking for a new job when what I want to do is write. And what have I done? Not much.

I say “looking for a new job” like I’m out there, Willy Loman style. No, I’m not. I say “I’m looking for a new job” out loud, and wait for thousands of jobs to fly past me in a dizzying array like I’m in the Matrix. Not gonna happen.

But I’m trying. Honest.

In better news, I got two free advance screening passes to go see “Hellboy” this coming Monday. Webster�s defines “kick-ass (adj.)” as: “Getting advance passes to go see “Hellboy,” for free.” It does. I looked it up. My friend Chris saw “Dawn of the Dead” over the weekend, twice, within a 24 hour period. That’s how good he says it is. Maybe I’ll go see that too. And on Friday, I’m making myself enchiladas, with chicken, cheese, onions, peppers and green chilies. Mmmm, mmmm, good.

Because I’m stuck on zombie-brand, because zombie-brand is stuck on me, I remain…

Ahhh, first real post back from my vacation.

You know what the great thing about vacationing at home is? Aside from the not having to worry about going places and crap like that, being able to just totally relax in your own ready-made space is just…heavenly. Everything you love right there at your fingertips. And, of course, when the one you love is at your fingertips that helps too.

I’m lame, and I miss her already. I know it’s not lame, but I guess I have enough muy macho Don Juan machismo in me to try to pretend that I don’t. I miss listening to her get excited telling stories, I miss her showing off the models she was making for class, I miss walking with her, yelling things from Chappelle’s Show at each other (“Black Gallagher, bitch!”), watching her study, every little nuance and detail. And, of course, I miss her most when I’m going to sleep. Not being able to curl up next to her, feel her, hear her breathing as I fall asleep. That’s the worst, I think, when you can’t be with the one you love. That gray time between getting in bed and falling asleep, when you talk, cuddle, or just be romantic. It’s funny, because she even left a pair of her earplugs on the bedside table, so I see those as I’m drifting off. And yes, she wears earplugs when she sleeps, but that’s just because I have night terrors.

With her gone, I’m back in the land of “I have 18,000 things I have to do,” which is kind of a killjoy. It was nice having one day back where most everyone commented on how relaxed I looked. My tax refund finally ambled in, which is nice, even though I have to send most of it back because I did my taxes wrong. Long story. I still have to get my car shit straightened out, look for a new job, edit my book, find an artist for the comic, all that usual shit. Baby steps, I guess. Keep on skipping with those baby steps.

Speaking of work, things are getting nice and exciting at the college, with students getting all fired up right towards the end of the term, which I find vaguely amusing, because those in power will just wait until they are gone and do what ever the hell the want anyway. As I said to someone at the coffee shop (well within earshot of a group of students, but I don’t make any secret of my views) I don’t really plan on having a job after the end of the fiscal year (June 30th). Believe you me, the fact than June is whizzing towards us at light speed is not lost on me.

That’s the way it is, I guess. You can take a vacation from the world, but the world keeps chugging along. C’est la vie.

Chugging along, I remain…

You are Robin! Still young and a bit unsure of
your abilities, nonetheless you are a force to
be reckoned with, a real hidden dragon

Which Witch Hunter Robin Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Yes, I’m relatively back from a relatively great visit with my girl. Love abounds, more later.

Swoony, yet manly, I remain…

I hate not being able to control things. Not that I’m a control freak or anything, but still…damn the uncontrolled.

One of the things that’s always a pain to control is other people’s perceptions of you. Sure, it’s your behavior, and you control what you do, but you can never control how people process that input, what buttons you push, if you remind them or someone or the countless other things that make people react back certain ways.

Example? Two of them.

One of my employees just quit because she’s transferring, and she didn’t tell either me because, for some reason, she was terrified of me. Don’t know why, don’t understand it. While I had to talk to her a couple times about actually figuring out her work schedule, but I never raised my voice, criticized or anything. But no, terrified. I suppose I should take some pleasure in placing fear in the hearts of the young and innocent, but it’s not really all it’s cracked up to be.

The other day I was in the supermarket at deli counter getting lunch when a guy who works at the college came in. I said hi to him and he kind of grunted at me, which makes sense, since he thinks I’m a pedophile. Lemme ’splain. About two years or so ago, I was doing an offsite sale for work, and this guy and his daughter come by. She was taking a class, and was there for some class or whatnot. We all chatted for a little bit, and then she went into the class, and I looked at him and said “She seems like a nice girl.” He looked at me, narrows his eyes and says “She’s *fourteen*” It took me a second to realize he thought I was hitting on her, and it’s been nothing but narrowed eyes ever since.

I suppose I shouldn’t let it get me down. My daughter thinks I’m “the man,” (as she keeps saying every time an ad for “Agent Cody Banks 2″ comes on) so that’s good enough. Even better, Toni will be her for a little over a week, so you probably won’t hearing that much from me.

Which, I suppose, some people would prefer.

Scourge of the seven seas, I remain…

So, lemme ask you something.

What the fuck is wrong with people? Why are 90% of the people on this planet obnoxious, rude, self-absorbed, mean-spirited, heartless, cruel assholes? Someone explain that to me, because I just don’t get it. Well, I get it at work, I watch my friends get it, I see it in the news, but I just don’t understand it.

Why are there people out there that that behave this way, thoughtless, selfish, arrogant & cruel? And even worse, why is it that when you try, or even suggest, to do the one thing that these type of people understand, breaking a foot off in their ass, *you* become the bad guy. No, no, that’s not okay.

It’s bullshit, because they started it, and need to be taught that actions have consequences. Fuck with me, fuck with my friends, it’s on.

That’s all. Maybe I don’t need to understand it when the solution is so obvious…

Harmful if swallowed, I remain…