The Demonweasel Speaks

Home stretch, now. Donít give in, keep those legs up.

College reunion is done, and I now find myself a hop skip and a jump away from my own little Antioch graduation, then vacation, thenÖthen who knows. Iím excited about being at Dark Star, no doubt, but right now itís like holding your breath and waiting to see how everything shakes down. And, of course, I still have a bunch of shit to take care of between then and now. But that will all be taken care of in itís own time. And, of course, I have Antioch friends I havenít seen in years coming into to town the night before Iím leaving, so it really is like everything is flying together at the same time. When I come back though, everything will land and weíll pick up the pieces. I think Iím the kind of person who, although I like having a schedule, I need to have it shaken up every now and again. Iím already slipping in my current schedule, but Iím attributing that to stress and the fluidity of everything right now.

Holy shit did I just see a big ass commercial for Spider-Man 2. Weíre beginning to get into too much information territory, but Roger Ebert has apparently said that this may be the best superhero movie ever made. Iím anxious like a bastard for it. Do I try to go Wednesday? Will I try to squeeze it in when I get to NY? Questions, questions. One thing I left out of my little missive about how cool it looks is the way they are marketing it as ìthe story continues,î making the implication that this is a series, a saga, something grand.

In other words, me likey.

Speaking of something grand , I just got done reading ìDark Tower VI: Song of Susannahî andÖmy god, itís just total kickass. I canít stress enough how cool the DT series is. Just brilliant. Of course, Iím a sucker for grand sweeping epics, or things that intertwine within an authorís work and give you a sense of something grand and expansive if youíve read other things by them.

Speaking of The King, I watched the ìSalems Lotî miniseries on TNT on Friday, and yíknow, not impressed. They set it in modern day as opposed to the 70s (when it was written) and changed enough little stuff for no real reason to piss me off. The sad thing is I know they changed the ending but I fell asleep during the last twenty minutes. So I guess Iíll never really know. I also watched ìThe Hills Have Eyesî which was laughingly bad. One of Wes Cravenís first movies (if not his first), and it has a lot of kitch value, but still.

Speaking of kitch value, Iíve decided to throw out there something Iíve been working on, so here is a little preview of the comic project Iím working on. Itís written in a script format (by page and then by panel) and hopefully it wonít be that to hard to follow for the layperson.

So here it is, make with the clicky!

Hopefully, itís not to horrifying. Because itís not supposed to be, horrifying, I mean.

Speaking of, I remainÖ

So here’s how you get over a really bad day: For dinner have a package of Oatmeal Rasin cookies, a six-pack of Killians and watch the Scooby-Doo movie.

So yeah, better.

Things aren’t as bad as I thought, which is good, and I need to remember that in most cases they never are. I see Everest in my backyard sometimes.

I still haven’t done much writing, but I think I put that on still being a bit crazy. This is what vacations are for. Refresh, rejuvenate, another word beginning with “Re.”

What I am excited for is “Spider-Man 2,” because I’m a giant nerd. One of the things that gets me excited for it is that I can’t get the flow of the movie from the trailers. I know the general story beats from little blurbs I’ve read about it and seen in the trailers (he’s going to try the “quitting Spider-Man because it’s the only way I can be happy” thing, fights Doctor Octopus), but other than that I’ve got nothing. Most of the time, I see a movie trailer enough times I can go “Okay, so I’m betting it begins with that big action sequence there, then they have a little plot stuff, that thing happens, they go here, they do this, then there’s that big scene, and that scene that looks like it takes place in a church is at the end because they show them coming out all triumphantly at the end.” Frankly, it’s irritating. It’s probably a sign that the movies I watch tend to be pretty simplistic, but hey, we like what we like.

But Spider-Man, oh man, does that look sweet. Honestly, and I’m sure I’m jinxing it, but this looks like it ha the potential to be the best superhero movie ever. The thing about superhero movies is that that they tend to do better in the sequels because movie people put so much emphasis on trying to get people to suspend disbelief in the first one where they are trying to set up people’s origins and what not, and that tends to take a lot of legwork. There’s so much weight in “we have to make sure that this is 100% believable and reasonable for even the most cynical of movie goers” that the little touches that make things fun get lost. By the second one though, things are a bit more relaxed and you can tell an actual story, not an origin story *and* a story. Superman 2, X-men 2, Batman Returns (yes, I’m saying Batman Returns has more positives than the first one. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it, but I’ll offer you this: it has Walken in it. I stand by my statement).

I’m hoping he’s funnier in this one. Spidey didn’t get a chance to crack a lot of jokes in the first one. And! it looks like he’s got his little scooter/motorcycle thing in this one (a nod to Peter’s ride back in the 60s during the Stan Lee run. “No Aunt May, I didn’t break my arm fighting the Scorpion on the Brooklyn Bridge, I, uh, fell of my motorcycle. Yeah, motorcycle, that’s it). Lots of action in this one, too, which is good. It’s still a toss up for me: Spider powers or metal Doctor Octopus tentacles? Which would be cooler? Doc Ock tentacles would be way cool, but webslinging? That’s hard to beat.

Nerd, nerd, nerd, nerd, nerd.

I can’t help it because it’s who I am, and I’ve always loved Spidey. Favorite super-hero, hands down. I dig Batman, don’t get me wrong, but that guy has issues. Spider-Man is the everyman, he’s every nerdy kid who read comics and then *wham* all of the sudden he can do these amazing, spectacular, web of (wait, not that one) things. Even still he still had those problems that everyone had. He never got the girl, he had to work his ass off the make rent and take care of Aunt May, he had school. It’s no wonder that every fifty issues or so he was hanging up the webs, but he always came back, because it was his responsibility (because, of course, with great power comes great…). It’s the ultimate life-lesson.

Ramble, ramble, ramble. It’s early and I’m still drinking my coffee. I have to get used to this. I will. I promise. All of it.

Amazing, Spectacular, Web of, Peter Parker, adjectiveless, I remain…

I’m miserable, and I hate everything.

Sometimes stress is like carbon monoxide, and by the time you feel dizzy and faint the damage is done and you can’t even breathe. It feels like everything that can go wrong or bad has, and it makes me just want to scream and yell and tear down the sky with my hands.

I hate how this is whiny and self-indulgent and the kind of thing I would have put on my LJ years ago, the one that when I read it it makes me want to reach back into the past like a Terminator robot and strangle the stupid sonofabitch who’s typing.

I should have expected this, that having all of these deadlines, all of these things happening at the same time would just lead to madness. *It does every goddamn year!* I hate that I go through the same stupid patterns with everything, and don’t seem to learn fuck-all about how to live my life.

Change my behavior, change my behavior. So damn easy to say, so fucking easy, but like my friend Jen says they are just words, and words don’t mean shit. Actions are what counts, and I feel everything slipping away, everything slacking off because of this reason or that reason and it doesn’t feel like anything will ever change.

That’s crap because things have, they definitely have but right now that behind me, out of sight out of mind. Right now my mind is thrashing like an angry Komodo dragon that’s destroying everything and coming up with horrible metaphors (and similes!).

I changed my workout tonight so I could get right into hitting things, but I don’t think it helped at all. I’m getting better at hitting things, no question (just ask the speed bag), but it doesn’t mean that anything is fixed. I wish I had a sparring partner so that I could lay into someone, or get layed into myself (ha ha, very funny), because everything right now that’s killing me is intangible. You can’t smash the nose of resentment and anger and fear and worry and hurt and panic and money. Well, maybe money but you’d look really silly doing it. I stood there at one point and just drove right jabs into the heavy bag over and over and over again, wanting to do it until I could no longer hold my arms up or there was just a bloody stump at the end of my wrist. But that’s the kind of thing you regret in the morning.

It’s not a race and I’m not winning. Sometimes when I’m weak I slip into you again and it’s like injecting battery acid into my eyes, like a train wreck that I can’t look away from. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. I wish I was strong enough, smart enough, *better* enough, and nothing you can say will ever make me not feel that way. It’s not fair, to either one of us, but it’s what’s in my head and I can’t get it out even though I know how wrong it is.

*sigh*

My mother is going to read this. I love you, ma, don’t worry. Honest. This is just the mental equivalent of hitting the bag over and over again. Squeezing the sponge of my mind to try to get everything out. I’m just a masochist enough to do it in front of the whole world.

“He chased her, like an old three-legged cat would chase a blind mouse that had wandered in front of him, fat with age and cheese and smelling like the best cat treat all the money in all the world could buy.”

I felt I had to try to get out the worst metaphor possible before I killed the english language. I hate trying to come up with metaphors. I vow to never use them. I’ll vow to never use them like the President would never use the Nuclear Panic Button.

Fuck you, that was a simile.

I’m not even going to spellcheck this, either. So there.

We like to get fucked up and do fucked up shit…

Now that the finals are over I have time to watch some of my host of movies, and Iíve done soÖWITH A VENGEANCE! I watched ìHouse of a 1000 Corpses,î and to be fairÖthere were only about 987, so I felt a little ripped off. It was okay, although I guess I canít judge too much because I kept passing out during the last reel or so. My favorite part, however, was when the kid hears the legend of brutal serial killer Dr. Satan and leaves the museum of horrors throwing up a double rawkfist and going ìDocta Satan! Ai yi yi yi yi!î I love that guy. And of course, in my head at work the next day I was doing that every five seconds.

Last night I watched ìBad Lieutenant,î which was pretty good. Lots of horrible dirty-cop badness, and, unfortunately, Harvey Keitelís penis. Thanks, but hold the bacon. My boss at Dark Star loaned me ìBowling for Columbineî and Iíll probably watch that some time tonight. Iím not really a Michael Moore fan, but I had heard a lot of good things about it, and Iím excited for ìFahrenheit 9/11.î To clarify, I agree with the majority of Mooreís politics and views, but I think heís a total ass-clown. I always end up feeling sorry for the regular people that see (in the little snippets of things I have seen of his) getting caught in the middle of his ìstunts.î Like the receptionist at Wal-Mart headquarters whoís told by two Columbine survivors that they want to return the bullets that are still inside their bodies. Yeah, there are larger things going on here, but seeing those kinds of things have really put me off him. Perhaps seeing this will change my mind.

I know, perish forbid, me change my mind about something.

I just finished re-reading ìThe Catcher in the Rye,î which I donít think Iíve read for the past several years, maybe not even since my early college days. Goddamn I forgot how great it was. I knew it was great, as I would always call it my second favorite book of all time, but for some reason I thought that because I read it so much when I was a kid Iíd get let down reading it again, the way you usually do when you read something as an adult you loved as a kid. It happens to me most with comics, but itís always disappointing.

ìThe mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.î

Reading that made me remember the post I made about the Butch & Sundance ending to ìAngel,î and me saying that going out in a blaze of glory for something would be the best way to go out. Itís nice to know Iím more immature than I thought, because that quote just makes sense. So what if I donít become super-successful or donít make a billion dollars? I have a daughter, I have family and friends that love me. Thatís the important thing, not how much of a carving I can make on the world. Iím not going to stop trying, I want to be in a place where Iím making a living solely from writing, but Iím not going to stress about it. All I can do is try.

ìThatís the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if theyíre not much to look at, or even if theyíre sort of stupid, you fall in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can.î

Damn straight, I remainÖ

In honor of the devestatingly awesome Pistons victory over the Lakers last night, destroying them for all time and winning the Finals, I have written a couple of haikus, as Kenzie often does (although not about basketball.)

Laker Dynasty
Ends in a savage beating.
Shaq, Kobe: Weep, jerks.

Ben Wallace’s Fro
Giant, awesome, I envy.
My sad white-boy hair.

Colorado bound?
Hey Kobe, don’t be raping.
No means no, loser.

Snap, snap, snap, daddio, I remain…

Thereís a point right before I start exercising, right as Iím laying there under the bench press, hands gripping the bar and taking a deep breath, that I absolutely donít want to do it. I just want to give up and quit and go back downstairs and change back into my street clothes and just give it up because itís so pointless. Exercising. Lifting heavy things. More than once, even, for no gain. Iím not carrying anything anywhere.

I feel stupid exercising. Itís comically ridiculous to see me lift heavy things. Not just me, anyone lifting a heavy object looks comically ridiculous. Youíd think Iíd be all for something being comically ridiculous, because thatís got to be the best kind of ridiculous, but no. Itís head shakingly comically ridiculous.

I donít even know why I do it. Thatís a big lie, though, I know exactly why I do it. I do it because Iím single again and I just feel like this is one of the things you have to do when youíre single. Or specifically, what I need to do when Iím single, because every little bit helps when youíre out there cruising for a mate. Which Iím not, but I am. I donít necessarily mind being single again, even though the whole thing is bullshit. It may be our natural state, but itís still bullshit (I suppose that last point is arguable, because arenít we social creatures that crave a connection with another human being? Or do we even know that for sure?).

I lay there on the bench thinking all of these things, and then I just take a deep breath and I lift the weight.

I do a lot of that before I do anything, I realize. I lie there, my hands on the handles, all dressed and ready to go, and I think about every reason not to do what Iím about to do. Actively try to talk myself out of it. I donít know why I do it, because I canít think of a stupider thing in the world to do. The worst part is that sometimes I actually manage to do it, to keep myself from doing something that may hurt a little bit at first but works out in the long run.

Iíd like to stop doing that.

Anyway.

Ironically, I missed my first gym day since I started my little ìpointless odyssey.î I had to go pick my computer up at the repair place, as my power supply went out on Sunday. Thankfully, it was under warranty and all I had to pay for was labor. Hopefully we can go a couple of months before we have more computer issues.

The last few times I was at the gym though, I really began to get the hang of the speed bag. Itís frustrating some times, but when you get going into a rhythm itís really pretty cool. Iím beginning to be able to switch up punches on it, which means Iím beginning to make some kind of progress. I work the heavy bag too, of course, but right now Iím just jabbing and occasionally throwing a couple of combinations at it. Iím trying get more comfortable with just that before I begin moving on to heavier stuff.

Not having my computer was frustrating mainly because I had wanted to work more on my little graphic novel project. I always get like that when my computer isnít around, but then I do stuff like get it back, check email, blogs and Fark and then watch a movie. Still on the movie kick. Watched ìLock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrelsî last night and taped ìSLC Punk!î I still have a pretty big backlog that includes stuff like ìRawhide,î ì2001,î ì2010,î ìThe Way of the Gun,î and a couple of others Iím sure Iíve forgotten about.

In any case, it comes and goes. Sometimes Iím just laying on the bench, breathing in, not wanting to be a part of this at all, and other times Iím in mid-press, and I realize that the weights arenít really that heavy and that they even seem lighter this time.

Getting plenty of water, I remainÖ

I don’t know how I missed it in my last entry, but some ways leaving Antioch can’t come at a better time, as it feels like everything is physically falling apart there. In May, when I turned on the lights in the store to open one morning, two of the fixtures had mini-explosions (including one right over my head), and smoke came out. A couple of days after classes started, someone snuck into our backroom, while we were open, and took May’s deposit bag out of its hiding place. Thankfully, there was no cash in it, but we lost $1,200 in checks, and had to notify all of our customers who used credit cards in May that our copies of their credit card receipts were stolen so they could get new cards. Then, topping it all off, Memorial Day night someone set fire to the Free Box (a place where people put junk they are giving away). The Free Box is on the other side of the wall from my desk, and if the fire hadn’t been caught when it was, it would have spread into the back room of the store and *whoosh*…I guess I would have started work at Dark Star earlier than I thought. The back room still smells like barbecue, there are scorch marks on the ceiling above my desk, and some of the woodwork in the back looks like…well, like it was pulled out of a fire.

Clearly, all signs point to “Exit.”

I watched “Trainspotting” for the first time tonight. Pretty good flick. I accidentally taped over “The Limey,” but I think it’s going to be on again soon. Other taped and unwatched things include: “Throne of Blood” (Japanese do MacBeth, with samurai), “Monsters Ball,” “El Mariachi,” and “Swimming.” I’ll kind of be glad when the playoffs are over because I’ll have more time for watching movies. I got “The Rundown” on payperview so I could tape it, as it is great fun, escapist cinema. A programming note, they are showing “Nosferatu,” (the 1922 vampire movie)at midnight this Monday. My late Sunday is going to be packed, though. I’m working until 9, probably won’t get home until 9:30, there’s game one of the finals, Deadwood, and the Sopranos finale. Thank God for HBO West (where you can leap back three hours into the past and watch stuff).

Had a terrible bar night Friday night. Stuck next to a 40 something couple making out right next to me, and giant asses rubbing up against me on the other side, and people kept stealing my ashtray. I’m sitting right here, with a pack of cigarettes in front of me, of course I don’t need that ashtray, you can just take it. Then, I went to Antioch and bought a Christmas green jello shot for $3, not realizing it was a jello shot, and I ended up eating it with my hands like a kindergartener…a kindergartener who’s drunk and eating a jello shot.

I’m trying not to get sucked into nostalgia, but it’s hard not to think about severing myself from the place I’ve been a part of in one way or the other for the past ten years. That, coupled with the looming specter of my 10 Year High School reunion, makes me think about the decade gone by, and how it feels like everything in my life is coming to an end so I can begin Act Two of my life. It’s scary, but I don’t really have a choice in the matter, do I? Life moves on, things change, nothing is constant, and I just have to learn that I have to roll with it and adapt and change like a life-sized Borg cube hurtling towards Sector 001. Resistance is futile, your culture will adapt to service us.

“‘Cause I’m broken when I’m open
and I don’t feel like I am strong enough
‘Cause I’m broken when I’m lonesome
and I don’t feel right when you’re gone away.”
/whiny, self-indulgent lyrics…

I bought Ace bandages today so I can have my own handwraps for boxing. I was waiting for my laundry to dry at the laundromat and practicing wrapping my hands. I realized after a while it might look a bit odd, constantly wrapping and unwrapping my fists with Ace bandages in the middle of a laundromat. At least it may have seemed odd to the other guy in there, who seemed to keep his distance and gaze a safe distance away. I was tempted to get up and start shadowboxing inbetween the washers, but that might have just been cruel. They work well, although I still have a smattering of abrasions and such on my knuckles, but I think it builds character.

The writing is going well. I think this idea may be something. What, I have no idea, but something. I’m hoping that getting up earlier in the mornings will lead to more work being done on it. We shall see.

Oh, the comment feature was broken, but its been fixed, so if there was something you wanted to say, feel free. The phone lines are now open.

Shadowboxing with the Borg cube of life, I remain…