Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Nothing of Importance

When I sat down here, I much rather would have preferred to write for Nano. Now that I'm doing this, I know I won't feel like it when I'm done. Damn you all.

--Caught American Gangster over the weekend. The thing that made it a fantastic movie for me was obviously Denzel and Russell. The two of them make what they do look so frigging easy it's really disgusting. And yeah, the women were underdeveloped and yeah it wasn't as good as Goodfellas, but dude: Denzel Washington as a gangster in the 70's doing lots of Gangster shit. If you have a penis, and that doesn't sound like two hours well spent, I don't know if we can be friends anymore.

--So judging by the current tone of the arts section lately, someone in the Lance office really likes comics. Which is kind of funny, because two years ago, it would have been me. Now, not so much.

What began as a means to cut expenses when I moved to Kingston has become a full-on life choice, as comics and the culture that goes with it has left me kind of cold. The common rule of comics fandom goes like this: If I say I don't like comics, a billion fans emerge like cockroaches with the lights out to tell me what I'd like instead. To not like comics anymore?! Ridiculous! That's like not watching movies anymore, because comics are a medium [which is technically true]! You're just not reading comics that suit your interest. Here, try some Jimmy Corrigan or Persepolis or Optic Nerve!

And I'm like, Dude. Stop. I don't want to read comics right now. It happens. I dropped superhero books when I got burned out from event fatigue and carnival barker promotional style of the publisers and 'news' outlets [Countdown to the final House of Infinite Civil War of Sinestro Corps Crisis! Nothing will ever be the same! For reals!], and I've always had a love/hate with 'literate' comics. Too navel gazey for me. Truth be told, I never forgave indy comics tastemakers for convincing me into thinking I had to read Blankets. Now I have a $40 doorstop on my bookshelf with pretty art and a story that makes me want to slap a Papillon puppy. So save your buzz books please.

And while you're at it, don't even mention manga. I hate those little tankubons with a passion. I'd rather have 200 issues of Batman in a longbox than 24 volumes of Ruruoni Kenshin staking out half my shelf space.

You know the only thing that even catches my interest, that I see at work all the time, that I can honestly see myself spending money on? Vertical Publishing's ongoing translations of the works of Japanese legend Osamu Tezuka. From his eight volume biography of the Buddha, to Ode to Kirihito, to MW, to Apollo's Song, the books themselves look amazing, and Tezuka's mastery of comic storytelling still excites me when I flip through a volume. Write a story on that, Lance Arts staff.

Still, the fact that I even can complain about the amount of comics coverage in the paper is something I thought I'd never have to worry about, looking back on the days when I was the only guy who occasionally wrote on them, and got hate mail because of it. So carry on, boys and girls.

Just don't even talk to me about that Captain America redesign...


Blogger Scott said...

Sooo... I guess it'd be a bad time to ask you to plug the comic I'm in? *ahem*

9:57 AM


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