Writing Warm-up / Comic Stuff

Wednesday is here! Mid-week has arrived and it’s New Comic Book Day!

Of course, since I have to buy my comics on-line rather than in a store it will be a few days before I receive anything. But I can still be excited. Indeed, I may even have a new stash to look forward to when I get home seeing as I recently ordered the first (and, currently, only) seven issues of Ghost.

I have to admit, I was saddened to see that Kelly-Sue Deconnick’s run ended after issue #4. But I am psyched that her co-writer on some of those issues, Chris Sebela, is the one who took over. Everything should be shiny.

In other comic related news – Did you see the porn-butt on the Variant cover for the new Spider-Woman #1?!
Holy Cow Doodie! What the hell were they thinking when they green-lit that cover?

I LOVE (yes, all caps LOVE) Jessica Drew. She is a super kick-ass, complex, and interesting character on multiple levels in both the 616 and Ultimate universes. But it is very easy to over-sexualise her due to the sheer skin-tight/shiny design of her iconic costume.

However, there is absolutely no excuse for why her butt should be splayed open in an overtly slash-fic/fetish porn style on this Variant cover. This is a Marvel comic, not a Zenoscope one. Hopefully the editorial team will remember that for future issues.

Something I need to share

Last night I sat with my wife and children in my parent’s living room to watch Jumanji. A wonderful film in which Robin Williams plays a grown up who was sucked into a magical board game as a kid. His role is, by turns, both funny and poignant. But mainly hilarious.

If you haven’t seen the film, stop reading, go and watch it with the people you love, and then come back. You owe it to yourself.

Personally, watching Jumanji is a bittersweet experience for me. Any time I see it being shown on T.V. I feel compelled to watch it. But it also reminds me of those friends I first saw it with at the cinema when it was  released. Friends I haven’t seen in years for a whole slew of reasons. Most of them made up. Yet, the film always manages to put a smile on my face no matter how silly and introspective I get when the titles first appear.

Needless to say, my kids loved it. Their favourite part? Robin Williams, of course. After all, what’s funnier than watching a grown man who acts with the energy and enthusiasm of a child? They absolutely loved the film and his madcap performance.

This morning I awoke to the sad news that this wonderful,funny man is no longer with us.
Just as my parents didn’t tell me and my friends that John Candy had passed away before we went to see ‘Cool Runnings’, I don’t have the heart to tell the children yet.

Amidst the many facebook tributes my friends have posted, my wife has simply put, “Nanu nanu.” Mork’s signature phrase meaning both, ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye’. It seems fitting, I think.

For my part, the only words I can think of are, Thank You.

Thank you, Mr. Williams for sharing your boundless talent and enthusiasm with the world. I can’t wait to introduce my children to the rest of your work.
Thank you.

Stream of Consciousness: “Preposterous”

Somehow I appear to have gained quite a few followers over the last week. So, thank you. I have no idea where you came from but it’s nice to have you around.

<fairwarning> This piece will probably make you disappear again. </fairwarning>

I would like to clarify that, despite its layout, the following piece is not a poem. I don’t do poetry because I’m just awful at it. There are already too many atrocious poets out there; I feel no compulsion to swell their ranks.

So, if it’s not a poem (“But it rhymes so it must be a poem!” *smack*) what is it?

It’s my brain’s response to years of listening to people explain why they support whichever particular political party they support, in whatever country they live in, all over the world. I understand the instinctive human need to establish a core set of values. But the idea of throwing your full support behind an entity whose decisions and responses you cannot predict or influence from one day to the next just doesn’t sit right with me. If the last two decades have shown us anything in this area it’s that such entities are quite willing to ignore the public consensus and just do whatever the hell they want anyway.

So, this is what fell out of my head when I found myself staring at a blank piece of paper waiting for the office clock to hit home time last Friday. I’ve (over) punctuated it since then, but other than that it remains unmolested and rather rough around the edges. It contains some swearing and a weird sexual metaphor that I don’t actually remember writing…

Preposterous

My politics are preposterous: this could be true,
You might call me liberal – but I hate more than I do.
I deplore violence and war and lines in the sand.
But I’d rather cut you than shake a racist’s hand.

I don’t mean to be a dick, but sometimes I am –
It’s one of the reasons I’m writing this down.
You see, if it’s in text form, and I read it aloud,
I’ll hopefully be able to turn that around.

I tried socialism, once, but it didn’t work out.
No-one could agree, and that’s what it’s meant to be about.
And sure, you stand smug with your true party vision.
But what use is a strict core when we only progress through cooperation?

There’s more than one way to skin a cat,
There’s more than one way to cut benefits back –
but fuck knows if your parties can think of another.

My politics are preposterous: This appears to be true.
But so are yours, whether pig red, piss yellow or faded thong blue.*

“All politics are bullshit!” – my inner punk’s shining through.
So, yeah, my politics are preposterous – but at least I’d help you.

I’d help you up, not grind you down,
Offer you support, not judge you as you drown.
And it’s not my religion (I have none you see)
It’s just basic human decency that separates you and me.

So – Yes – I’m a dick, and I’m fuming with rage
Spurting angry words all over this page
My politics are preposterous, now this much is clear,
But I’d rather keep my mind open than blindly follow in fear.

 

*I live in the UK – these are the colours of the three main parties. The piss and the thong are currently ruling as a coalition, though an anthropomorphic piss stained thong would probably be a less damaging option if one were to ever run for election.

Authorial Voice and Blogging

When writing fiction, exercising your authorial voice is a tricky thing to get right. Rough drafts can sometimes end up cowed by its shadow or limp due to its hesitance. Being able to strike a balance is essential in order to allow a story to unfurl organically. Yet, no matter how hard or easy you may find it to begin with, it will always be there. You are writing a story, after all, and it’s rather difficult to tell a tale without a voice driving the narrative forward in some form.

Blogging, on the other hand, is a rather different beast. The possibilities presented by a blog allow for significant deviation from the normal mode of writing. Yes, you can write stories and relay information from your own perspective – you’ve probably noticed that (when I do write) I tend to follow this path. But there are plenty of other ways to approach a blog.

You can address your readership directly and encourage interaction and discussion to gain a wide range of, hopefully, constructive criticism to inform how you to decide to refine particular projects. You can display your work and just be happy that it’s out there for people to see, without ever checking for comments. You can even create a community blog and involve your readership in the creation of content. You can use this approach no matter whether your blog covers fiction writing, non-fiction, or news.

There are virtually limitless possibilities regarding what you can use a blog for and how you can present it. But still, the most prevalent type of blogs are those where news, in all its forms, is regurgitated with no distinct voice behind it. I have never understood the purpose of this last type.

It doesn’t particularly matter whether you are writing about international events or this week’s comic releases. Good reporting, or journalism of any kind, needs an authorial voice just as much as any work of fiction. Yet, there are countless blogs out there that are quite happy to spew up a vague rewording of a press release or news report without ever attempting to comment on the story they display.

I am certainly no great authority on blogging, but the basic purpose of a blog is to allow you to connect with other people, even fleetingly. If you have a personal blog it should be there to represent your opinion, your outlook on the world. If you would rather fill that space with words cribbed from other sources and never comment on a single thing you may as well print out those original articles and throw them blithely into the streets. Without your voice present to explain why the articles you are re-hashing are important in some regard, personal or political, your blog is meaningless.

Blogging is accessible to almost anyone, but it is a medium driven by personal opinion and expression. I learned a long time ago* that not everyone has something to say. I just wish they would realise it so that those that do can be heard.

* In a childhood far, far (OK, not that far) away

Pity for the Poisoner

Venomous words roll from your dissembling tongue with ease in the absence of the defendants. All pretence of comradeship forsaken as the door clicks shut. Your intangible barbs slice deeply, though not as intended. Each acid flecked barrage serves only to sever the final vestiges of our waning trust. No credence is given to the tortuous calumny that seeps so freely through your splintered masks.

What warps and sullies a soul to so extreme an extent that its only solace can be found in such underhanded destruction of civility?

I know not, but I pity you.

You, who are destined to live a life of spite and misery,

You, who would so eagerly ascend on the bloodied backs of fellow travelers to attain nothing of lasting value or worth,

When you finally reach that barren destination you will find that your high tower’s steeple has served only to split the rancid belly of your bitter soul. It has left you cold and hollow; its frosted silken walls will not bring you happiness, or love, or warmth to carry you through the long nights ahead.

The defendants will not be returning. The doors are bolted; Arachne’s weave has been cut.

We have made our homes far from your withering shadow and, though we pity you, you will be forgotten.

Breaking Boxes

Boxes are made to be broken. From the inside out, or the outside in, that is their purpose. You may be labouring under the common misapprehension that boxes are made to contain things. It’s an easy trap to fall into. After all, boxes do tend to end up containing things. But that is not their purpose, it is merely part of their function.

Boxes are a manifestation of decisions, conscious and otherwise, to segregate naturally occurring phenomenon. Sometimes they are constructed for convenience and ease of identification. But too often they are assembled with malign intent.

Not all boxes look like boxes. Some are fashioned from fences and walls. Others manifest in the form of police lines and hysteria.

Most are built with words.

Fear is a box builder, the most prolific of them all. It dwells deep inside us, waiting to be called upon when we are confronted with something we do not yet understand. Initially it emerges as instinct, infecting us in utero, ready to compartmentalise the feedback received by our newly formed synapses. We are then born directly into the boxes fashioned by the fears of our parents and elders to protect us from the tumultuous tides of the world. Though each of these boxes dimensions vary, sometimes wildly, their flaws and knot holes are firmly of our guardians design.

Whilst every new container has been constructed from a blueprint, at this point in our evolution they have been re-drawn so many times the lines have begun to fray and bend. Successive generations of boxes are beginning to break faster than at any prior point in our specie’s short history. Fear may be a prolific builder, but it is not a good one, and we are growing smarter. We are escaping faster. You may cite plenty of evidence to suggest otherwise. But, before you do, step back and take a look at how far we have traveled from our inauspicious origins. If you then take a closer look at where we are now you will quickly become aware that those amongst us that hate, and fight, and kill are still deeply entrenched in their boxes. They have sealed the lids, erected defenses, and declared hostility to everything that exists outside the construct of their inner fears.

That is why it is up to those of us that have been freed from our hereditary captivity to take a stand. The very existence of these boxes hurts us all; they stunt and deform us.

In order for us to advance together, they must be destroyed.

The Importance of Non-Violent Protest

I actually started to write this in a notepad late last night with no intention of sharing it on here. But, after today’s events at the Shard, it seemed pertinent to share my personal take on the importance of peaceful protest in raising awareness of causes that would otherwise be overlooked.

I’d also like to say congratulations to the #iceclimb team for being so successful in their endeavour. You stole the spotlight and made a lot of people who didn’t know much about the Arctic drilling – myself included – a lot better informed, and outraged, in the best possible way.

 The Importance of Non-Violent Protest

When I was ten, I was a chorister at Westminster Cathedral in London. This involved singing mass in the Cathedral itself six days a week with Monday off. In exchange for this, I received a private school education between the ages of eight and thirteen. It was a very regimented, sheltered environment

I had no clue about anything.

The real world might as well have been another universe. Please don’t misunderstand me here, I wasn’t a “true believer” or anything like that. But all I knew was the ritual and the songs and, frankly, the ritual didn’t mean anything to me. It just meant standing up and sitting down in a pre-ordained sequence, and occasionally we would get to sing something cool in between the day’s plainchants. I certainly wasn’t alone in viewing it that way. Though I will admit that the pageantry of the main feast days was quite fun in a purely theatrical sense.

My friends and I were just kids that could sing. We didn’t think much of the wider implications of anything we were participating in – we weren’t required to.

The first real indication I got of the reality that existed beyond the high, protecting walls of the choir school happened on a Sunday in 1994. I believe that the gospel had just been read and the presiding priest was mid-sermon when, all of a sudden, there were white balloons floating up to the high arched ceiling, and a small group of people were being escorted from the building amidst tuts of disapproval from the general congregation.

Of course, they weren’t balloons. They were helium filled condoms. But no one bothered to explain that to us. Nor was it explained that the people being escorted from the building were members of the LGB rights group OutRage! who were protesting the incumbent pope’s stance on homosexuality.

It wasn’t until after I’d left the choir school a few years later that I was able to find out any of that information. No one told us a thing. But I’d caught a glimpse of something different. There were adults that disagreed with the established narrative and these people… protested?

“What’s a protest?”

No answer.

As far as epiphanies go it wasn’t anywhere near the level of a particular Mitchell & Webb sketch. But my mind began to open to the possibility that not everything I had been told was necessarily as sacrosanct & agreed upon as I had been led to believe. So I started to ask questions, and when I continued to be ignored, I read books and learnt about things no adult would willingly share with me.

Needless to say, by the time I eventually heard of a band called Rage Against The Machine, a year and a half later, I was already well on my way to leading a much more interesting life than the one that had been chosen for me.

All because a small group of people weren’t afraid to stand up in public and say, “No!”

Album Review: The Impossible Girl – The Sky Is Calling

In the interests of full disclosure I would like to make it clear that I am one of the 1,319 people that backed Kim’s kickstarter for this album. Therefore, whilst I have tried to approach this review as objectively as possible, you should be aware that I do not tend to just throw money at things I think I may like.

The Impossible Girl – The Sky is Calling

Now that’s out of the way let’s get down to the business of actually looking at this artist and album.

The Impossible Girl was originally the name of Kim Boekbinder’s first solo album but has since become her musical alias. Before her first album Kim performed with her sister, Zoe, in the cabaret band Vermillion Lies. However, I didn’t become aware of her as a musician/artist until she wrote this post all about pre-selling gigs over on Warren Ellis’s blog. Even after that, which I thought was a rather excellent idea, I was too dumb to actually go and listen to her music. I have only myself to blame.

As I eventually found out, The Impossible Girl (album) was a rare thing of quiet beauty built around simple loops and melodies with Kim’s voice weaving everything together to form a musical love letter to anyone smart enough to stop and listen. The array of instruments involved, from the standard set of  guitar/piano/violins to the supporting cast of found objects (e.g. glasses/dishes in Open/Avocado), all helped to shape the landscape without ever overwhelming the listener. It’s quite mesmerising and I would recommend it to anyone regardless of their personal taste. With that in mind, I was intrigued to see how this approach in her song writing had evolved for The Sky Is Calling.

Firstly, let’s take a look at the theme of the album. From the get go this was established as an album about SPACE, which is a pretty vast subject to tackle at the best of times. Droves of prog-rock and synth bands have spent their entire careers writing about it. The problem with space, as Douglas Adams observed, is that it’s big. As much as I love The Impossible Girl it is a very personal, as well as fantastical, album. So I honestly wasn’t sure how Miss Boekbinder was going to approach such an expansive subject.

The answer turned out to be incredibly simple and effective. She takes us on a journey. The album starts at the beginning and progresses to the distant end. That is to say, it begins at the start of everything – The Big Bang – and progresses, through the past and present, into the future.

Like I said, simple and effective.

After the initial four second synth recreation of that pivitol moment we are pitched straight into the heaving cosmic uncertainty of particles being born, joined, separated, re-joined and shaped into new elements in the first main track of the album: Stellar Alchemist. The bubbling synth loops and steady rhythm capture the idea of fluid creation whilst the Impossible Girl’s voice twists and weaves through the flux with ease giving the song its form. She embodies the Stellar Alchemist and, in doing so, transports the listener in to this brave new land.

Lyrically, the next track, Fix You Good, leaps forward to the idea of humanity attempting to master creation in the lab. Musically, this track incorporates the first use of repeated, layered vocal motifs. This technique will become a leitmotif of the album and harks back to songs from T.I.G., like Open/Avocado. However, its use in this particular song, combined with the vocal imitation of the mid-synth (alto) loop, helps to give the song a more regimented, industrial feel. In turn, this helps to lock the previously fluid, ambiguous possibilities presented in the previous song into a clear pattern. The elements have been tamed.

The title track then breaks from this new found form with an ode to exploration. You should go and listen to it here. This track essentially captures the soul and DNA of this album. It incorporates all of its major song writing elements – simple repetition, layered vocals, and a multitude of synths, to name just a few – and uses them artfully to describe a personal fascination with the cosmos that is instantly relatable for all of us dreamers. The Drake Equation then builds on this, asking the age-old question – ‘Are We Alone?‘.

It says a lot more about me than I would usually care to admit that the mid-point of our journey, Hand to Mouth, is far and away my favourite song on the album. That’s not to say that it’s the best song on the album. But it’s the one that affected me the most on a genuine, personal level.

On my first listen I was already enjoying the album by the time the initial, sparse, synth sequence kicked in. I was glad that I’d backed this album and felt that I had already got my moneys worth. But this song took me by surprise. Like I said before, I was already very clear that this was an album about SPACE. So when an acutely personal song exploring self-doubt, perseverance and the drive to improve and get better/be better materialised from nowhere, it hit me hard. I wasn’t expecting it, and it took my breath away. I ended up listening to it at least four or five times before I could carry on with the rest of the album.

From a purely technical perspective, it’s the drums that carry the song. The fragile nature of that first synth sequence combined with the minimal guitar could have grounded the song and bogged it down. But the drums are relentless. They drive the song forward, never allowing it to falter, and this mirrors the lyrical drive and  determination in Kim’s vocal delivery. Few artists can give voice to lines as easily maligned as, “Will I ever be happy? Look at me now, I’ve got it all, I’m still sad somehow.” or, “Always finding a reason not to be loved.” without spiraling into trite self-pity. But she does it, and it works because self-pity is not the point of the song. It’s the journey – the getting through. I could go on, but all you need to understand from these particular paragraphs is that Hand to Mouth is my personal song of the year. And I never saw it coming.

The next track, Falling Apart, continues this exploration of the personal but takes it and relates it to the larger world; cleverly disguising itself behind the facade of a bouncy, pop song. All of which is then subverted when we come to my second favourite track of the album – Animal.

Animal is a primal, multi-layered, exploration of sense and sexuality told from the perspective of an inventor building a female A.I. that can never be satisfied. Why? Because she lacks the fundamental, natural, ability to feel. It’s a fun song and serves to diffuse any underlying melancholia that more sensitive listeners may have carried over from the previous two songs. It also brings us neatly back to science and exploration.

The following track, Alien, is structured in such a way as to detach from the rest of the album. It slows right down and uses vocal layering to evoke a shifting in the musical ether. Personally, it called to mind the shimmering lights and shifting gas clouds so often used to represent the alien, or other, in countless sci-fi movies. Whilst I originally had some doubts about this song – so jarring is the shift in tempo – I’ve warmed up to it on further playthroughs. I eventually realised that, in some ways, it is the best conceptual song on the album as its structural difference so completely embraces and embodies the track’s title. To Be Touched explores this theme even further with a highly evolved consciousness craving the physical touch of another being. But again, at its core, it is a personal song.

And this is the point at which all the themes of the album, and the musical history of Kim Boekbinder herself, tie together. Yes, this is an album about SPACE. But it is also an album about the self. She has successfully taken this vast theme and used it to explore the deeply personal whilst incorporating the fantastical, as she did previously in The Impossible Girl. Likewise, all of the core song writing mechanics exhibited in her first album are here, just on a grander scale.

The final song, Planet 216 (which is, actually an asteroid) is a celebration of life. The main refrain, a defiant mantra:

“In my solitude I wrote three commandments: You will be fierce, you will be fragile, you will be free.”

The album’s journey has been completed. But the song acknowledges that the personal journey of the listener, and the artist herself, continues; and, like all good art, it gives the listener something to take with us on our way.

You can buy the album here, and you can find out more about The Impossible Girl, HERE.

I strongly recommend you do both of those things.

No Epitaph

Shattering black glass
Crushed beneath our weary feet
Etches history

–

Politicians shrug
Whilst missiles illuminate
Killing skies above

–

No epitaph here
No final rallying cry
We are forgotten

San Diego Derby Dolls – Indiegogo Campaign, last 22 hours!

Do you like Roller Derby?

Yes?

Then pay attention.

The San Diego Derby Doll’s indiegogo campaign to raise funds for a new, permanent training facility and venue is in its last twenty-two hours. If you enjoy the sport, even a small contribution would be a great way to show your support. The league is heavily involved in its local community and setting up a permanent base would give them the opportunity to do even more, as well as giving them an established  league venue.

But don’t take my word for it, go and look for yourself over on their homepage.

Some of you may wonder what my reason for supporting this particular project is when I don’t even live in San Diego. Fair question. Well, it just so happens that a very dear friend of mine likes roller derby, and her local community have helped her quite a bit over the past few years. When I first met her, around nine years ago, she looked like Tank Girl and had all the associated attitude along with a wicked sense of humour. Over the years she has settled down and had a family, but she’s never lost her edge. She just couldn’t express it as openly as she used to due to the responsibilities of parenthood. Being as outspoken as she is blending in has never really suited her. But she is an Awesome mum – and her kids are just as wickedly creative and hilarious as she is – so she did it.

Then, a few years ago, she started going to her local roller derby league’s events over here in the UK. It’s given her a place to focus all of that pent up attitude,whilst also providing a fantastic network of friends and support within her local community. The kids love it, her ‘normal’ friends think it’s fantastic, and she has a place to cut loose and enjoy herself with her family as they cheer the girls on together. She’s even had the chance to do some skating and roller derby at their community events!

Supporting this project makes sense to me because of the positive impact the sport and local league’s fan community has had on my friend’s social life. Hopefully, some of you will be able to relate.

If you’ve read this far, please, go and watch their project video. This league deserves your support, not just for the teams, but for their community as a whole. As this project is set-up under indiegogo’s flexible-funding campaign banner, even if they don’t reach their overall target, your contribution will still go toward the setting-up of the new facility. So, no matter what, you’ll be helping to make a difference.