Owowowowowowow.

Well, it's been nearly six months since my last trip to the ER, and sure enough, my back started getting tweaky yesterday. Tossing back four extra-strength gelcaps per the ER doctor's orders last time did indeed abort the problem last night, when it got really bad, but this morning I awoke in roughly the same position I was in yesterday--not in excruciating pain, but with a catch in my back (and, in this instance, side) that tells me I'm one wrong move away from, well, another trip to the hospital.

What would constitute a wrong move, you ask? Well, there's the rub. This thing always hits out of nowhere. Carrying fifty pounds of cat litter into the house isn't the problem; opening the trunk of the car to get the cat litter might be. Or something like, well, breathing deeply.

I don't have enough ESA gelcaps on hand to do what I did last night tonight; I don't have the will to venture out into the icy wasteland the last couple days has turned out neighbourhood into to get enough of said gelcaps; and even if I did, I don't think my stomach could take another dose in that quantity without bursting from my midsection like an Alien and brutally killing everything in the house (which, in the case of Smoky, is not necessarily a bad thing. Stupid, stoopid cat.)

So we'll see what the night and tomorrow hold on the back front.

One thing tomorrow absolutely will not be is the stress-fest that today was. As if expending time and energy trying not to inhale the wrong way wasn't bad enough, the artist for ReBoot dropped off the face of the earth for a solid 24 hours--without having delivered the much-needed final colours for the last page of this coming Monday's installment. Or, more accurately, he had delivered the page, I just hadn't received it in my inbox, for reasons only the universe that's decided to #*%(ing hate me today could tell you.

The page has been received and I'm currently not going to sleep while I wait for the letterer to finish applying his art to the page, which is due tomorrow. There are some days I just hate editing, and this was one of them.

Prior to my sending increasingly frantic "Where are you/where's my page/are you still alive/if you're still alive why haven't you sent me my page?" e-mails every fifteen minutes for several hours, I actually got a reasonable amount of work done on the new screenplay. I think we're finally into the stage where the thing takes on a life of its own. No longer do I have to force (most of) the characters to say something--I understand (most of) them enough that they're talking to each other without me nudging them.

If this were July, I'd probably have a first draft ready to go in maybe two weeks. As it's December, I'm thinking maybe another month. Decembers and I do not get along.

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DEFENDING THE INDEFENSIBLE

So, if Neil Gaiman and various others are reading things right, Lisa Simpson of the animated show the Simpsons is considered a person under Australian law, and images of her having sex with her father qualify is roughly equivalent to having images of non-fictional human minors having relations with non-fictional human adults.

My position on this should come as no surprise to anyone who's read this blog. For an opposing viewpoint, check out Occasional Superheroine Valerie D'Orazio's post on the subject. I respect and to some degree understand her position on the subject and can sympathize with her feeling uncomfortable expressing her opinion (ironic, as the discussion is all about freedom of speech.)

As I stated in a reply to her post that, as yet, hasn't been cleared, this subject is bound to bring out extreme positions. Both sides are looking at the bottom of their respective slippery slopes, and, having seen the destination, are going to do whatever it takes to ensure the slide never gets started.

Also, the character of Lisa Simpson is well past the age of consent. She just looks young.

A

That Olde Time Religion

That Olde Time Religion
Not that I think one's needed or even necessarily desirable, but this Newsweek article presents the biblical arguments in favour of gay marriage (via Mark Evanier)

***

As it happens, I've been thinking about Christianity a but more than usual today, for the silliest of reasons. During the daily indulgence of my masochistic streak, I was watching CNN this morning, when it was announced that the guest on tonight's Larry King was MegaPreacher SomeonewhosenameIdon'tremember and his wife. And I started to wonder exactly how one takes the step beyond simply preaching and starts MEGApreaching. Does this guy spread the word longer than normal preachers? Louder? With a megaphone, maybe? While eating a mega-sized fast food meal?

Or, when he's defeated by the Power Rangers, does he transform from a normal sci-fi martial arts preacher into a giant sci-fi martial arts MegaPreacher who must fight his foes in their giant robot form in an anonymous mountain range before he is ultimately defeated? And if so, does that mean that the Power Rangers are servants of Satan? Actually, that last bit makes a certain amount of sense...

And then I decided I wanted to be megasomething. Not sure what, yet. Well, I'd LIKE to be mega-awesome, but let's be realistic, here. How would one become a megawriter? A megasleeper? A megawhiner?

And then I decided the whole thing was kind of stupid and the guy was just a preacher and someone who writes the copy for Larry King's show needs to lay off the cappuccino a bit. Doesn't really matter how big his flock is, whoever the guest is/was, he's just another preacher (and another preacher's wife.)

***

This was just one of the many deep trains of thought I had today. Another started with me reflecting fondly on the days when people talked about "stories" and characters", and almost no one referred to them as "content."

This particular train of thought turned out to be the C-Line to Bummersville.

***

And then I read Abhay Khosla's review for SECRET INVASION #8 at the Savage Critics, and that brightened my day somewhat, because it's some damn entertaining writing. And it is the source of today's Quote of the Day:

"Kids thus learn a valuable lesson about heroism: nobody think it’s heroic to shoot a woman in the head with a bow & arrow; they only think it’s heroic to shoot a woman in the head with a ray gun."

There were probably a dozen other lines worthy of mention in the review, but that's the one Ithat jumped out at me, probably because of the additional visual punchline Khosla adds in the body of the review itself.

***

And then I watched a bunch of television and came upstairs, and decided I'd write a blog instead of watching Heroes and then read some more of Mumblemumble Lindqvist's novel LET ME IN (aka LET THE RIGHT ONE IN) and then turn the lights off and go to sleep. Knock on wood.

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The beginning of the end?

In the wake of Arianna Huffington's appearance on the Daily Show to promote her book about blogging, I'm considering shutting this livejournal/blog thing down. Either that or trying to give it a focus that's both narrower and something that I can write about regularly. Right now, I'm inclined just to stop, but I know me well enough to know there's a good chance I'll change my mind, so I'm not going to commit to withdrawing back to the nether regions from whence I came (and judging by the size of my readership, arguably never really left, ha ha).

There's a lot almost going on; started seriously developing a new project based on an idea by Nick Johnson yesterday; plugging away at the screenplay for Producer Guy; waiting for responses from a half dozen producer types, a couple editors, a manager and a partridge in a pear tree; there's a short essay I've started writing a dozen times but can't seem to close; Big NY Editor needs more chapters of the YA novel before she can sell her boss on it (that one's not happening any time soon, the way my schedule's shaking out)...but there's always a lot almost going on. I'm getting tired of writing about it, especially when I could be writing something...I don't want to say useful, but...productive, maybe ?

So, we'll see. In any event, don't expect a whole lot to be showing up here until after the New Year.

***

I see ATLANTIS RISING, the comic penned by my friend and occasional co-writer Scott O. Brown, has been attached to director Len Wiseman and looks like it's moving ahead at DreamWorks. Strangely, I don't see his name mentioned in any of the press surrounding the film--I can't think of any other announcement where Platinum didn't mention an optioned comic's writer. I suppose Variety and Co. could've edited the announcement or something, assuming there was one...

Anyway. As with all things Hollywood, I'll believe there's actually fire accompanying the smoke when I'm recovering in the burn ward and not a second before. But I'm told that "buzz" is always useful by people who ought to know, so I hope SOB gets a little public credit where it's due.

***

Maybe a groupblog of some sort.

Of course, that would require finding some sort of a group...

Maybe not.

A

Dayzed and Confused

For the last couple of months I've developed a tendency to forget what day it is. Actually, that's not quite right--I feel like I know what day it is, it's just I'm wrong. For instance, I know for a fact it's Tuesday, but I just can't shake the feeling it's Wednesday.

I wonder if this is related to the days getting shorter, or medications fogging my brain more than usual (head is throbbing, ready to split today--first snowfall that hasn't evaporated inside of an hour or two), or the loss of one of my external time-keeping touchstones (visiting Granddad--never had a regular time for a visit, but I was always vaguely aware of how long it was since I'd last seen him.) Or hell, if I'm just getting old.

On the upside, been moving at a decent clip on the screenplay for Big Producer Guy I. So who cares what day it is?

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SLIPPERY SLOPE

Here's a link to Neil Gaiman's defense of people who enjoy creepy things that don't actively harm other people. I made a similar argument awhile back in response to a post by

deireanach, but I suspect more people will be likely to buy it coming from Mr. G.

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The Comics' Biggest Blight thread on Canadian Geek has transformed into a more general discussion about the state of the industry between a frustrated, successful comics retailer (Happy Harbor's Jay Bardyla), an equally frustrated, not nearly as successful comics creator (me), with occasional interjections from other people trying to get a word in edgewise.

***

Andrew Sullivan on why he blogs. I've only read a page and a half, but it includes some interesting historical bits, including the origin of the term "log", which make it worth mentioning right there.

(via Chad Gervich's Script Notes blog)

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NO QUARTERLY ASKED

The Future of Comics (I) Fiona Staples has a variant cover on VAMPIRELLA QUARTERLY, and I either just noticed or noticed earlier and forgot. Probably the latter, that sounds like something I'd do.

Anyway. Now she just needs to do something (official) for Red Sonja and she'll have worked on the Pre-1990s Scantily-Clad Ass-Kicking Babe Trifecta, which also includes Sheena. Then she could go back to drawing MY stuff*...

If anyone out there is in touch with someone in a position of authority at Dynamite Comics, please tell them they should hire Fiona for an RS book. End the insanity, before it's too late.

***

DON'T WANNA, NOT GONNA. MAYBE

I don't want to write a zombie story.

I DON'T.

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I JUST DON'T SEE IT

OK, yeah, there was a communications error and we did the wrong strip.

I still don't understand how you didn't notice that the jet plane was missing, or that there was a robot completely unrelated to the strip in practically all the panels until we were done lettering.

Argh.

***

DEAR GOD, WHY?

I have an idea for a reality-TV show.

Please, shoot me.

***

SCREW YOU, BRITISH COLUMBIA

You know what you did.

A

(*Wishful thinking, I know, but hope springs eternal...)

Tuesday Night Rambly-Dambling

As I sit--OK, actually lie--here, awaiting notes, pizza, and Law & Order: SVU (not necessarily in that order) I'm actually starting to come up with a story to go with something that would be pitched as "Hannibal Lecter's Adventures During The Zombie Apocalypse." I really do not want to come up with that story, because as soon as I do, I'll feel compelled to write it, which doesn't strike me as a particularly good idea.

Last night I woke up and scribbled the title "Zombie Girlfriend" on a napkin. I think I've been watching too many zombie movies lately. Which is weird, because I don't particularly like the genre. But they're, y'know. There. And I'm reasonably sure I'll find almost all of them more interesting than Twilight.

The British miniseries Dead Set is pretty good, though. The premise could've been played for comedy so easily, but instead it's really dark...worth the three hours just to get to one really nice image at the end that I bet was a major reason the creator wanted to do the project...

Someday I want to pitch a film thusly: "The Godfather meets The Godfather II"...

That is all.

A

Friends like these

ME: I'm going in for a brainscan on Tuesday.
JAY: I hope they find something.

***

BLIGHT UNSEEN

In an uncharacteristic moment of charity, when a thread at Canadian Geek started on the subject of "Comics' Biggest Blight", I won out over my baser urges to expound on the evils of the three elements of the industry that immediately occurred to me as contenders for the title and instead ended up in the odd position of defending the first nominee to the title, Joe Quesada.

You know something's gone seriously wrong with a conversation when I'm the guy who's trying to be positive...

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