An aside

While at work today I overheard some DJ banter on WICB about how Jet Blue airlines is offering free beer and TV to all passengers flying during the actual Super Bowl. If I actually cared about the Super Bowl and was also flying during it then that would be friggin amazing! However, since my greatest football grandeur is that time I sucker tackled some kid during fifth grade touch football (hence, the sucker tackle term) game I am a bit amiss. However, this does remind me of one bit of airline humor.

Ever been on a flight and had the pilot call over the PA with the score of some big game all us suckers are missing? It's usually a college football game, but this might be a bit biased as I usually fly on Saturdays. If I flew on Monday nights, I might be different. Anyway, the pilot comes over the PA with his voice breaking the audio to Roll Bounce, Rudy, or whatever claptrap they are playing that day.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain coming to you from the flight deck. We are just an hour outside of Fort Lauderdale so just sit tight and we'll get you there right on time. And for those of you interested, the score at half time was Ohio 34 and Michigan 27."

Now, you might think that the pilot is just being a nice dude, but in reality he is making fun of you. Not only does the guy have complete control of the plane and your life, but he also has a fucking radio! Dance puppets, dance!

Peace!

Fur coats and cowboy hats!

Great to see that this story ran as the top Americas headline on the BBC for the entire weekend. A bit disheartening to notice that today's edition of the New York Times didn't give the protests any coverage on the front page except for a blurb telling readers to dig through the news section. I only mention this because if you believe the radical neo-con logic that the NY Times is an America-hating leftist rag then why would they deny Jane Fonda top billing over an article about how an imam found greatness in the suburbs? It was still a good article that challenged stereotypes and cultural clashes, but, where is the America-hating rancor!?

And while I admire the peace protesters and support them in trying to end the current Iraq war, I am not an outright pacifist. Mostly because when I hear the words "heat ray gun" and "developed" in the same article I tend to freak out, just a little.

LOOK AT THAT THING! AMAZING! About fucking time too! H.G. Wells is standing up in heaven with HP Lovecraft and Jules Verne laughing at us for taking so long. Now, military-industrial complex, get working on those jet packs and flying cars! All in the name of freedom, of course.

I would post some pictures but all the pics come from either military/defense sites or pacifist/anti-war sites. One group has the actual heat ray and the other has many lawyers. Hence, just hit the link.

I just realized that celebrating both a protest and a weapon designed to counter protests is inherently "redoncolous." Yes, so crazy and oxymoronic that new words are needed for it.

I will have more for you guys later. Peace!

A Dream

There is a link to this site on my blog, but I think scanning through some of the pictures there will help you get a better sense of what I am trying to say. The site is called Ocean Dots and you can just gawk at the satellite photos.

For some reason, I am enthralled by these tiny islands. I think they are all gorgeous and the few remaining wildernesses that aren't all icy (i.e. Antarctica). Nothing against Antarctica, however! There was a Blogger Blog of Note a few months back that chronicled one man's sojourn in Antarctica. The pics were great and I wished I had saved that link to share with you. Oh well, here is what I got. Peace.

_____________________________________________

I invented a mnemonic device in college to help me through introductory physics. It was more of a way to understand the concept of quantum mechanics then an actual memory jogger. So, if the entire universe is unpredictable then, in theory, I can just sit here concentrating on that cup on the counter and at some point, maybe in a second or maybe in a millennium, the cup will come to me. The only limitation is my own life.

I found the entire thought a bit spooky. Anything can really happen if stretched along a long enough time line. It was hauntingly clever and it lingered on my mind, a neural aftertaste.

I also took a geography class in college. The professor talked about a pet project of his on the last day of class. a day where most of the students showed up drunk, if even at all. He blasted the standard, ho-hum globe that did nothing to show the true makeup of our planet. The Pacific Ocean isn't just a swath of blue with a bunch of speckles to the eastern end. The big blue space between the green of New Zealand and the barely purple dot of Easter Island is full of islands too! The professor wanted to create a true globe that would render the planet looking like a spherical colanders colored in the neons and pastels of average cartography. He also told us there are decidedly less oceanic islands in the Atlantic. He was fine with the current presentation of that ocean. For now.

I think too much when I try to go to sleep. I hit the lights at 1am, but do not fall asleep till 3 am, 2:30 am if I am lucky. I am tired, but my body won't fall asleep. I thought this was due to some chemical imbalance and that a pill would help solve it all. However, for all of junior fall, I remained in bed. Thinking.

If quantum mechanics is right, I thought, then the universe could burp up some little wrinkle in space time and suck me into it. I dremt about this once and imagined I woke up naked on an island. More of an islet, as in a quick 30 paces I can cross the length of it. Scrubby grass pokes from the center of the sand bar. A trio of coconuts throws up their young fronds into the air like snails pulling wheelies on the back of their foot. I don't know why I am naked. I never have slept naked in my life. Apparently the dynamics of my teleport also favored the possibility of all my clothes coming off.

All the islands have names.

Tromelin Island.
Bassas de India.
Bouvet Island.
Howland Island.
Niue.
Henderson Island.
Desecheo.

They all look the same; that's the catch.

I did not wake up immediate. After realizing there was nothing to this blister than just the circle of sand and ankle-high jungle in the middle, I tried to panic. I tried to scream and run around the circumference of the earthly pimple, ripping up vines and sending the coconuts back into the sea. However, in retrospect, it was a dream and I only shivered. The wind came over the ocean and only clinked against the low sides of the islet. I studied the tides in the moonlight. I hadn't noticed there was a moon till that moment. I find out how far up the water reached and then lay down on my stomach. I clawed my fingers into the edge where the damp sand of the constant side meets the dry, loose sand unaffected by water. I stretched out y legs as far as they could go, wanting to hear something pop. The soles of my feet can't reach the scrub in the middle, but then wind kicked up again and throws a bit of spray over the island. I felt like the island was all mine. From tip to tip, I was engulfing the land like an oil slick. I knew I did not reach that far, but I stayed anchored.

Then I woke up.

_____________________________________

I always feel dirty after writing first-person monologues and trying to hawk it as a story or even an exercise. This style is completely "do-able," but I always feel iffy. However, I realize that this is all in my head. Entire novels could be considered first-person monologues/narratives (American Psycho, much?), so I am happy I got this out in one piece. Stutter-steps and half-starts. That is FOP writing. Peace, again!

In the Red States

I feel like Jim Anchower, but I am sorry that I have not blogged in a while. Not being in the office anymore it is hard to find downtime to blo...err...I mean...I never, EVER, blogged while at work! Got to keep myself straight for references to other jobs. Yes, but I have been busy as I am working extra shifts at my other job and pounding the pavement for other jobs.

Anyway today's post is an off topic one, which means....

DAREDEVIL TIME!

The local comic shop just had a winter sale and all back issues where 50% off! You could buy comics for the ye olde prices of $1.25! I have stuck to my New Year's resolution of sticking to just a few monthly titles, but this was a deal! I took 5/6th of a Daredevil miniseries called...

Daredevil Redemption

Consider yourself warned of spoliers, baby!

Written by David Hine and drawn by Michael "The kids never let me down for my last name" Gaydos, DD:R finds Matt Murdock/DD in the God-fearing regions of Redemption Valley, Alabama. A young boy has been brutally murdered and the local color immediately blames a trio of supposed Satanists lead by Joseph Flood. Joe's Flood, Emily, crosses the Mason-Dixon line in search of a real-live Atticus Finch. She finds Matt, who after a bit of setup, takes the case of the wrongfully accused boy to heart.

DD tries to save a boy in NYC from an abusive dad, only to have the boy tell him that DD just doesn't understand and the drunk dad is a good guy! Hence, the trip to Alabama. I guess that makes sense. Like the picutre, eh? Of course you don't! It is horrible! I added the glare box to describe exactly what is there...a big white spoltch of glare. I must admire the handsome wood paneling, however.


DD goes down to Dixie along with his legal intern Constance. Matt does not try to sleep with her, which is a first for him. Not that Matt is some lecherous fiend that throws himself at women. He can barely keep the ladies off of him, even with all that ninjitsu! If you want the details you can go read the thing for yourself. It has already been collected as a trade paperback, in case your comic shop does not have a 50% of EVERYTHING sale. Anyway...down in Redemption Valley we find out that Joe Flood really didn't do it and that the local God-fearing folks ain't that pious to begin with. Funny to see DD and Matt Murdock, the most Catholic of the Marvel heroes and one of the few I find openly religous, having to deal with the local evangelicals.

DD:R is a great story and for a story with no (Yes, you heard right) instances of DD kicking someone in the head it keeps you pretty excited. DD and the readers know Joe Flood really didn't do it, but Matt has to keep to his morals. The final issue has the first scene in comics that I have found heart-wrenching. My comics readership is young and fledgling, but we all need that first moment where the damn book stomps all over our heart! In a good way, of course! This was it...

As DD:R is set in the current Volume 2 run of DD, the story touches upon Matt's secret identity and how some NYC tabloids outed him as the vigilante Daredevil. I am still not too clear as to DD:R's time frame. The comic begins with a caption that reads "Seven Years Ago," but it all feels contemporary. I guess DD comes back to Redemption to witness Joseph Flood's execution and issues 1-5 are just flashbacks.

What an execution it is! With his super senses Matt can hear Joe Flood die and each of the chemicals shut down its intended part of the body. If anyone could attest as to exactly how humane lethal injection was then it would be Daredevil. However, this being comic books it would be just as easy to execute someone and bring them back with some Dr. Strange power or something. In any case, it is intense. Joe has heard of Matt's troubles all the way on death row and begs for him to bust him out of jail. The panels in yellow are hard to read as we know Matt has all the power to do that and should. He is a vigilante, but right now he is a lawyer and a honest one too boot! He isn't powerless to stop it. He chooses not to.

It would have been great to see Daredevil beat on some hill billies, but I guess I will have to make due with the various goombas, ninjas, and armored freaks that he beats down. I must admit I could not get issue 5 so maybe he kicked the crap out of some redneck there, but it seems like mostly court room stuff from the look of the "previously in DD:R!" from issue 6. In any case, DD:R is a nice little read that explores the conflict of Daredevil and Matt Murdock.

Peace!

Gratuitous

Considering one of the latest (and grisliest) headlines in recent Tompkins County history this story might seem a bit...well...pornographic. Pornographic in the pure sense of the word, not the heaving bosoms and spam e-mails sort of way. And I guess the story is violent just for the sake of having it, but it's supposed to be nothing more than a snippet. I say this because I don't want you thinking I am some sicko. A lot of my pieces have violence in them, but I don't create this violence in a gratuitous sense. I feel it moves the story along or brings it to a nice conclusion. I would say "Wheeze" is a violent story even though it lacks guns, fists, knives or anything of that matter. Get what I mean? No? Well, that make sense. This is a not a good introduction and you can be the judge of any/all of these pieces.

I don't like kids. If you want to have kids then go nuts, but I don't have the patience for the little brats. I think the problem is that when I was a kid I wanted to be treated like an adult, so I expect the same of current kids. I think that sounds nicer than I am just some bitter person. Yes, much better. However, I don't wish any sort of harm on children in general.

I wrote this piece as another bit of flash fiction that came to my head after a series of real-life events.

____________________________________________

Pornographic

By Garik Charneco

Lake stacks the tea tins onto another, making around his mother's groceries.
"It's a castle," he screams while thrusting his arms up in the arm and then shaking his head. "YAY," he murmurs through the flapping of his lips. The cold wind outside has made the lips red, the color of freshly drunk strawberry Kool-Aid.
Jeanette gets her coffee from the counter, dropping her quarter change into the tip jar. The cashier nods in approval and then return to shinning the stainless steel of the countertop.
Lake's brother, Devon, grabs another set of tea tins, an African roobios and Sri Lankan Ceylon, and brings them to his brother.
"Here are more rocks! Too make the castle big and strong!" Devon pulls back his own lips and flashes the bottom row of his milky teeth each eschewed aganst the other as to resemble headstones in disrepair.
Jeanette puts the paper cup down on the table. "OK, boys, you need to sit on your bums while mom drinks her coffee. The we can go home. C'mon, on your bums. Like this." She then plops down onto the wooden chair, flipping her purse behind the chair's back with a nudge from her thighs. Her arms are out with the palms of her hands facing up. 'See? Nothing to it."
Lake pulls out a plastic figurine from his coat pocket. It is a limp piece of plastic with the paint buffed away by dozens of games of "Save the City" and "Fly Through Walls." The little man holds a gun in one hand and then a baton in the other, which has broken off at the top. Now it looks more like an umbrella handle. Lake puts the figure on the top of the highest tea tin. "It's Captain Amazing! Woo woo!"
Devons begins to slap at the bulky folds in his winter coat already a frown coming to his face. His own figurine is back at home, in the kitchen junk drawer where Jeanette put it after yanking it out of the vacuum cleaner hose. He slaps his coat pockets again, before orbiting his hands around his waist. His pants are snow pants and they make a soft crunching noise with each slap. Lake has already begun to narrate the exploits of Captain Amazing with the best baritone he can muster acting as the villain's voice.
Jeanette notices the quiver in Devon's bottom lip and the soft gasp of air into his lungs. She begins, "Devon, honey, your toy is back home. You left it on the floor and remember what mommy said about toys on the..."
Captain Amazing flies through the stack of tea tins. He knocks out a brick of Japanese Sencha that smacks into the coffee cup. Jeanette pulls away. They are close to the window and when a droplet hits the bay windows of the shop, a small wisp of steam appears. Lake freezes and Captain Amazing drops to the floor onto a bed of twisted English Breakfast.
Devon sits frozen in his chair with his arms stretched out and perpendicular to his body. His fingers curl back into the palms of his hands and three amber-colored rivulets speckle his face.
"Devon! Are you ok!?" Jeanette grabs the thin cocktail napkin that came with the coffee and attacks the thin burns on the boy's face.
Devon speaks through gritted teeth, his lips also frozen and tasting the bitter tint of his muddy tears. "No!" He wheezes out two short breaths between his teeth. "Burning!" His winter coat absorbed most of the coffee, but a single stream of liquid flew under the collar of his shirt and oozed down his chest where it circled his belly button. Jeanette rips off the coat and finds the damp brown nebula spreading through the bottom of his undershirt.
The clerk has run over with a damp cloth and slapped it on the table. Jeanette drops the crumpled napkin and switches to the rag. "You're ok. See! You're ok. It was close, but you're ok!" The streaks of red across his face fade as the coffee pools on the tiles beneath them.
Devon lingers on crying, fighting the instinct to cringe and pull back into his down shell. There he finds more burning, but this one slowly absorbs into his skin, even faster once his mother dabs that part of his body. Lake is also frozen watching with a tourist's eyes.
"Say you're sorry to your brother! Say you're sorry! Lake!" Jeanette screams this as she turns the rag to the table. Wiping up slivers of tea leaves she repeats herself. "Now, Lake!"
Lake looks down to the floor, focusing on Captain Amazing. "I'm sorry." He then plunks himself down and picks up the figurine. He puts his lips together and the goes, "Whoosh!"

____________________________________

Hmmm...maybe "Pornographic" is not the best title for this story. In a final version I hope to trim the details and focus on the actual event: the spilled coffee and the burning sensation. Then it can be a bit more intense. Peace!

Movies I Should Have Already Seen Vol 3. Issue 1

I PROMISE that this will be the last time I bring back this column from the bowels of deletion. Get those collector's guides ready because it all starts here...again.

However, before I get to the reboot, here is a quick summary of the previous Movies I Should Have Already seen that were lost to the digital abyss.

The Silence of the Lambs

30-second recap: Jodie Foster is not hot. Stop trying to make her hot damnit! Why are there so many sheriff's deputies in West Virginia? And what was the big deal with the moth? An excuse to get the entomologists fawning over Jodie Foster who is NOT HOT!!

Saving Private Ryan
30-second recap: Has Nathan Filion in it! SHINY!

Final Destination

30-second recap: I learned that you don't fuck with death. He's a "mac-daddy."

The Godfather

30-second recap: Yes, I know I should have seen it a while ago. Sorry. Eh, what can I say? It's The Godfather! Damn Leslie Neilsen for ruining it for me with his wacky antics.

I still think Goodfellas was much better.

Donnie Darko

30-second recap: Expected a mind fuck, but instead got my mind groped by the highschool lacrosse team. Frank the Rabbit is insanely creepy. The Chucky of the current generation. Always nice to see Jena Malone, Jake Gyllenhall, and Patrick Swayze...as a pedophile.

Now, with that behind us, I present....

MOVIES I SHOULD HAVE ALREADY SEEN! (THE FINAL RE-LAUNCH!)

The Descent

Alright, this movie, isn't that old. However, much like the Saw franchise it is well-hyped as the future of horror. The difference between the two is that unlike the Saw franchise The Descent is truly scary. You need to understand that I am not a very touch hombre. I startle really easy so even the screeching cats and albino boys of your average J-horror make me scrambling up the walls. But those are just startles. The Descent scares. Remember how you never wanted to go back into the bathtub after seeing Jaws? The Descent does that same thing, but for caves, which you should really stay away from in the first place unless you are A) A spelunker B) Accompanied by a spelunker or C) Batman. Just saying.

I wish I could post screenshots as the film relies on claustrophobia to build up the tension. The landscapes of the Appalachians also increase the deadly foreshadowing. The film actually slams the foreshadowing right against your face. A shot of the cabin in the night with two torches at each end of the porch screams The Amytiville Horror? The misty woodlands do what the Blair Witch Project wanted to do and much like Alien it solves the problem of why the protagonists don't just leave the damn monster infested/cursed/haunted place by sticking them in a cave.

The movie gets pretty grisly and with the main characters being all female I have seen some folks throw around the term "mysoginistic." I don't think the movie is anti-women as none of the girls are stereotypes. They are all athletic women who know what they are doing, just like any group of friends that shares a common hobby. Get me and four other comic book guys together and you won't have a tough guy, crazy guy, loner, hero's best friend, and gentel guy. That's a Gundam team. Instead you would just get five guys who, if quipping about the latest issue of Civil War Frontline 10 was a martial art, could cut a path out of any cave!

I will try to keep the spoilers light. I think the movie relied a bit too much on startle scenes at times. It had use going from the moment they first went down those narrow crevices that link the caverns. It had use when that girl had to cross the chasm with nothing but upper-body strentgh and some caribiners. The monster were neat, but lost everything once we saw them. They were just slimy orcs rejected from The Lord of the Rings movies.

I am not a horror-movie buff or expert, but I believe horror movies should do one of two things at the end:

1) They should make you truly happy. The survivors should have won your heart and come out of the thing alive because they kick ass. They deserved to live. We get a happy ending because sometimes, when we have enough heart and strength, we can get those happy endings. I am looking at you Alien and Jaws. You too Cube! But just Cube! None of those sequels!

or

2) It should enrage you. You should get out of the seat and say, "No! Fuck! Not like this!" Then the movie needs to grab the guys jetpack and ram itself kamikaze style into the ending while screaming, "LIKE THIS!"
If you got that reference then I hope you smiled or screamed out a "BENDIS!!!!" that would make Dave Campbell proud. If you didn't get it then I promise not to nerd it up anymore.

Anyway...horror movies can also try to enrage you and betray what you expected. Seen Carrie? Yeah like that! Seen Final Destination? I have! And, no, it's not like that.


The Descent gives you both. I will try to make this as spoiler free as possible but you have been warned!

***SPOLIERS LIE AHEAD***

The Descent gives you two beautiful moments of salvation that just melt your heart while waiting to scream "HOORAY!". Weird to say that the most uplifting scene I have seen in a while has come from a horror movie where there is a fight in a pool of blood, but, there, I said it. Then it takes that away from you and turns the thumbscrews until the guy that made it is laughing at you! Laughing hard! Never have I been so enraged at the ending of a fictional movie.

Finally, The Descent is good because it must have looked so stupid on paper. Six hot British girls go spelunking in the hills of West Virginia where they fight blind, albino slime creatures? It worked. Go figure.

Peace!

I promise

The whole point of this blog is that I want to get myself writing. However, sometimes I do scribble stuff down outside of the blog and that happened today. So I did write a nice little exercise in one of my journals while at work. So, there, I did write something today and kept the groove going. Trust me. I don't see the point in reproducing here on the blog as I should just focus on some new snippets and pieces. I am trying to get together a decent collection of flash fiction pieces as an imaginary book-project. More on that later.

But you must get something for checking out the blog, right?

Well here i it comes...

A PREVIEW!

Yes! Because Fear of the Blank Page is ripping up the bandwith I am going to give you something to titilate and excite before the actual post! Just like the summer movie season! It's not coping out. Just look at the title of the post. I promise its not coping out. Anyway...

For Christmas my lovely girlfriend Amanda and her lovely family gave me a PSP. Let me tell you it is one fine piece of machinery and with two GTA games on i I am kind of glad I am only half-employed. Since they (Amanda and her folks, that is) are extra cool they got me the PSP entertainment pack, which brought a game, movie, and memory stick. So I will submit myself to that very UMD movie that came with the PSP for an upcoming feature...

MOVIES I FELT OBLIGED TO SEE!

Make sure to keep checking back as this feature might be one time only. So until then await the Fear of the Blank Page's review of...

Gnarly! PEACE!