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Gerry woke to the sun pushing on the white curtains covering the one of two windows in his bedroom. He laid on his side as he was wont, two pillows cradling his cropped haircut. Another pillow he hugged in his arms, and another he placed between his knees so that his knees didn’t knock as he slept. The large flat screen television he purchased at a Black Friday sale a few years back when his older, fatter, more compact television started to act like it wanted to be retired and started showing odd lines across the screen like wrinkles and when the images became distorted like looking through cataracts. He wore only a pair of underwear, one of fourteen he had in his possession, although he had three pairs of pajamas in his drawers which he could utilize if he needed to. They were rather large on him due to their being purchased prior to a period of time when Gerry was liquidate his weight. However, recently, he had began packing on the pounds again, reverting to old bad habits, i

In the past, I would occasionally lag behind in my weekly reading of the comics I had bought.  By the time that Wednesday arrived, there were still a few issues still left on my read pile.  The temptation for the comic reader is to submit to the lure of the new comics, there covers suggesting so much that you betray those comics from the week before.  They can wait; there’s time; the next issue doesn’t come out for another thirty days. But reading comics is like running on a treadmill stuck on one speed.  If you don’t maintain the speed that your reading, you can trip up and fall off.  Comics build up in small piles and then larger piles. To avoid the clutter of having one or two books laying out, I bought a short box in which to keep the unread issues.  And after I filled that short box with unread comics, I bought a second one as well.  Now, at the side of my bed, I have two short boxes with multiple issues of runs that I have not read. One of the comics I let build was DC’s Ne

I’m giving fair warning.  This post will ramble, the result of series of encounters with an theme that flowing around inside my head for some time, all centered around the term “hipster.” The other day, at work, while conversing with a friend regarding music, he made the comment that he thought that I might be a hipster based on the music I was listening to and the fact that I had chosen to wear a bow tie that day.  We’ve only known each other for only a short time, and, really, only in a professional manner.  I mean how much can you really know anyone if you’ve only seen them in work clothes.  See a person when they are not restricted in what they wear or how they comb their hair, you’ll know who you’re dealing with.  See a person in the shoes they wear when they are not required to be anything, and you know the person. He had only seen me in the suits that I wear to court and the khaki’s and blazers I wore on less formal days, not in the jeans and t-shirt and Converses I liked to

Apparently, Marvel’s Hercules had a book.  And, apparently, Dan Abnett wrote the book.  I hadn’t known this.  Or perhaps, I did, only I didn’t pay attention, filtering it out of my sphere of comic books that I read or consider, much like a husband might filter out his wife.  The last time I read a Hercules book was years ago, back when Marvel “killed” Hercules off.  (Like you could really kill a God.)  I enjoyed the book then as something I might pick-up as a distraction from the more prominently advertised titles.  It was not memorable, but it was fun. When I discovered that Marvel intended publishing a Hercules book that “tied-in” to Civil War II, my interest was peaked, and I picked it up.  And as I had done in the past, I enjoyed Gods of War, and thought that, compared other titles Marvel and DC has released recently, it was a strong offering by writer Dan Abnett and artist Emilio Laiso. The reviews I read after reading were not so kind.  Many of the reviews mentioned the “red s

Science fiction and fantasy are tricky genres, simply because there is such a wide disparity between the quality of the science fiction and fantasy stories that are told.  In addressing his writing being slotted as scien ce fiction, noted the bad reputation that science fiction writers receive from critics: “I have been a soreheaded occupant of a file drawer labeled 'science fiction' ever since, and I would like out, particularly since so many serious critics regularly mistake the drawer for a urinal.” As Vonnegut suggests, perhaps science fiction, and by association, fantasy can be quality writing.  No one would dispute the strength of story of the Hobbit or the Lord of the Rings.  I personally am aware of the former being used as “literature” in a middle school reading class.  I also recall a number of Ray Bradbury works being used as well.  I personally taught a class in which Dandelion Wine was used, and not by my choosing. But at the same time, anyone who goes to a Barne

  Technorati Tags: technology , break-up , flip phone , Blackberry , computer , television , metaphor Dear Technology: The last several years have been…  Well, I can’t say we haven’t had our good times.  But, things have to change. We’ve had a long history, you and I.  Recall that, as a kid, my father loved you, and that he wanted me to love you too.  He introduced me to you through an electronics kit from Tandy, a square looking thing with various different wires and lights and other electrical looking doodads that could be configured in different ways to affect different results.  Recall that year in grade school, when Dad sat down with me and charted out what made you run, the “Talk,” which sounds as boring as its sounds. And then, at grade school, I shared my knowledge about you with the other children, secrets which enabled others to access you.  They learned from me the right words to say to you to get you to say what they wanted you to say and to do what they wanted you to

Dear Audience, So,I know what you are thinking. No, really, I do. You've heard it from me before, the promise of a weblog, a short story, a commentary, a review, or at least a lengthy poem. This I promised you when I started who knows how many blogs. l said these promises as if I were giving you tokens of love. You have to understand though that I was infatuated with you. I had seen other bloggers post material which was posted and reposted over and over again. l saw how those bloggers were beloved by their audience. It was in their comment section. They had a relationship built on mutual respect and honesty. The blogger would bare his soul to his audience, and they in turn would love him for it. I have to confess. It engendered jealously in me. I would watch from afar as the blogger doted upon his gentle and childlike audience, taking their hand in his and guiding them through the travails of the day, imparting wisdom in small doses. I saw how the blogger made them smile, ma