They Killed Dream Girl!

Okay, Legion of Superheroes junkie here. Which is a difficult thing to be, since of all comic geek subsets, this demands the most dedication and patience.

I just read Legion #12, still reeling at the death of Dream Girl. She finally becomes a character that isn't just boobs and fluff, and now she's a corpse. But she could be back when the Legion is rebooted, since the Legion is always being rebooted. It's part of the pain of being a Legion fan.

When I first started reading Legion, it was actually called Superboy and The Legion of Superheroes. The idea was that a teenaged Clark Kent would travel into the future and hang out with these heroes. Yay! It worked, since it was cool to see Superman as a young kid, and the Legion were fairly dorky, with names that all ended with either 'Girl' 'Boy', 'Lass' or 'Kid' and their power dropped in front. So we had Karate Kid, Dream Girl, Cosmic Boy, etc. Fun stuff.

Then the Legion grew up, and became adults. Which was also fine, because even though Superboy wasn't such a big player anymore, the Legion was still cool. We--as readers--could even vote for the new Legion leader every year. I can still remember reading the wedding of Karate Kid and Queen Projectra in my last year of high school. There was also that sense of history--the Legion did hail back to the Sixties, after all--that made you feel like you were watching a very long story continue to unroll.

But the the Legion changed, after Crisis on Infinite Earths. There never was a Superboy to inspire the Legion, let alone go hang with them on a Saturday night. So the Legion--like all things post Crisis--became darker. The whole 'Five Years Later' storyline, which was far more brutal than anything we'd seen before. Still, it gave us some cool new characters, like Laurel Gand (who looked a lot like Supergirl, who died in Crisis, and of course then never really existed--you still following?) and Kent Shakespeare (who seemed to be a somewhat toned down Superman type character, with the powers of the Golden Age Man of Steel).

But then that never happened, either. Then the Legion was a bunch of teenagers again. Colossal Boy died.Then some of the got lost in the series Legion Lost, with Element Lad going apeshit because he didn't go into suspended animation like everyone else, and had to wait for them--for a million years. So then Lightning Lad died fighting Element Lad, but then they both kind of came back--Lightning Lad in Element's Lad body. And then...this Legion disappeared.

Now we have a new Legion. Teenagers again fighting adult complacency, and a terrible new dictator. This Legion worships 20th century comic book heroes, but no Superman connection. This Legion has sex with each other, as in 'casual'. Brainaic Five is an asshole, Cosmic Boy is a control freak, Shrinking Violet is now Atom Girl, and takes out villians by being fired like a bullet into their bodies and then expanding to normal size. Colossal Boy is alive again, but instead of being a guy who can grow to be a giant, is actually a giant who can shrink down to six feet. And Dream Girl seemed like a decent character for once....but now she's dead.

Now I hear that it's being rebooted again. Supergirl and The Legion of Superheroes. With the old 'Five Years Later' Legion coming back. Maybe. But those teenage Legionnaires? They're still around, somewhere. And where will this current Legion go?

Like I said, being a Legion fan requires dedication, patience, and....a lot of time to think about things like this and write about them in your blog.

Old, Tired, Ready For The Grave

Very tired now. My day job had me outside for close to four hours today, running a snowblower in a blizzard. Now, I am not a big man--130 pounds on a good day, if I remember to eat--and the cold just gets inside me and freezes things that I think you need to live. I stood outside this morning in a near white out, half frozen, covered in snow, and thought:

But I'm a writer! I'm forty! Shouldn't I have a nice cozy office somewhere? A cup of tea steeping beside me? When do I get my J. K. Rowling moment?

I despise winter. I despise being cold. I despise people who say they love snow and winter. (They only say that because they don't have to shovel the motherfucking stuff.) I despise know it all assholes who brag about their expensive snow tires, when I have to scrape to fill the tank. I despise the SUV drivers who try to hit lightspeed when the rest of us are crawling along, praying we don't slide off the road. And I depise people who order anything toasted in a Tim Horton's drivethrough, making the rest of us wait precious minutes as our car heaters fail to warm us waiting for them to get their little morning treatie. (And why do they always--always!-- drive minivans or SUVs?)

Bleah. I will die old and broke, and dogs will piss on my gravestone while their yuppie owners laugh. Bury me with my unfinished stories and notes, so I can pass eternity maybe getting the damn things done.

I hate winter. Did I mention that?

It Were The Innernet

My internet was...what is the technical term? Oh, right. My internet connection was fucked. But hopefully now everything is all jiggery pokery again. If it's this hard just to maintain a text blog with my luck wiht technology, just wait until I try a podcast.

Big news! Huge news! Geek news! David and I were listed in the acknowledgements in Spiral Scratch .

This is Gary Russell's new Doctor Who novel. Yay! I'm in a Doctor Who novel! And it appears Mel read our book! Huzzah!

As for the good Doctor, I managed to see the six minutes of Christmas Invasion that aired in England during the Children In Need special. David hated it, but he hates everything new. He accused David Tennant of being an overwrought Patrick Troughton, but I didn't see that. I saw a man owning the role within thirty seconds.

We started a new Dungeons and Dragons game on Saturday, with Lisa joining our band of merry social outcasts. It's a geek moment of pride to have three beautiful women playing D anD with you--in fact, the women actually outweigh males in this current incarnation. There are geeks worldwide who would sacrifice their pristine copies of Bablyon Five RPG books to have such a mix. Sure, lots of things suck right now, but this doesn't. Much.

Writing wise, I finished a column for the beloved, untouchable edifice that is the Free Press last night. Been putting notes together for Garden Gnome Apocalypse, the short story I've written about six thousands word for, but keep starting it over. I found I was using old tropes again, and wanted to challenge myself by changing the dynamics of the story. Sure, it's still the same mindless humour and stupidity, but it's different, too.

Reading? Picked up latest issues of The Walking Dead, Ex Machina, and Conan today. All superb. Kind of going off superhero books lately. The whole Infinite Crisis thing is just making me feel hollow, and stupid for having spent money on it. I like books now that have a potential for change and surprise, and that's not something I'm seeing a lot of now in the work being put out by DC Comics and Marvel.

Oh, have also fallen in love with Geek Fu Action Grip. You should, too.

Kate Returns

I've come down with my third cold in less than two months. I never used to get sick. I wonder if only getting four hours a sleep a night has something to do with it? Naaaah.

Working on something tonight with half a brain, trying to work in Roman architecture with Resident Evil 4. I dread to look at this tomorrow morning. Yet I see Kate Bush's new album is out today. Aerial is the name, and I'm undecided about picking it up.

For those of us of an age and of a certain mindset, Kate was once our musical Diana. Hounds of Love was my first Kate album, and I really didn't know what to make of it at the time. But I kept listening, and soon fell in love. I used to play her heavily when I did the midnight shift up at CHRW, and I think it was that that cemented my love for her work: those lonely nights in that smelly on-air room, playing music for apparently no one, with only Kate's album covers and music for company.

I began to drift away from her work with The Sensual World, but I still bought it. And even though I did pick up her last album The Red Shoes, the magic for me was gone. It was like Paul Weller after the second Style Council album: it just seemed that time of my life was over. With Kate, I didn't think she ever caught the magic of The Kick Inside, Lionheart, and Hounds of Love.

Still, I've heard 'How To Be Invisible' from the new album....and I like it. So I'm sure I'll pick it up. It's Kate. For those of us of an age and certain mindset, there really is no way we wouldn't.

Re-Enter The Dragon

Today, I return to karate classes after about six months away. There will be embarassment.

Cher graded on Wednesday, earning her Green Belt. The sensei said she did Finger Set better than he did. She's a natural in almost any martial art she studies. Me? Not so much. I keep wanting to fire energy bolts a la Street Fighter, yet it never seems to happen.

I had my recommendation for the Gladiator Track played on BBC Radio 6 this morning, with the ever glorious Natasha reading my reccomendation. For some reason, this makes me happier than getting published.

Over coffee this morning I read Marvel Team Up #14. I only read two Marvel comics currently: New Avengers and Young Avengers, but picked this up because it was written by Robert Kirkman, whose independent The Walking Dead is a personal favourite. Team Up featured Spider-Man and Kirkman's own creation, Invincible, involved in a small romp involving Doc Ock. It was well done, very funny, and worth the money I laid down for it. I'm a little taken aback at how many Marvel books Kirkman is writing now, since I love his work but am not sure I want to add even more pulls to list. In fact, I can't. No money, no time. But if you do like Kirkman, then pick up this book. It's a one shot, and it's a bit of all right.

Got back last night to reading Elizabeth Moon's A Deed For Paksenarrion, a book I've been trying to finish for about four years. Very good book, making me wonder why I keep laying it down for less enjoyble work. I like how she spaces out the magic in her book, to the point where you get so wrapped up in the day to day routine of a mercenary company (training, gossip, travelling to new places, the everpresent threat of death) that you forget that there are elves and orcs running about....somewhere.

One of the problems I had with Steven Erikson's Gardens of the Moon was that there was too much magic, too fast. (He rises above it later in the book with better pacing.) It's also the problem that faces most gaming related novels, with the Forgotten Realms being the most appalling. You can load up a story with tons of SPFX, but doing so before you've fully established the reality of your setting, giving the magic something to be spectaculur against, just works against the suspension of disbelief essential to good fantasy.

Oh, also read the latest Outsiders. I'm still not feeling the love for this whole Infinite Crisis runabout--I really feel at the end of the day, there will only be marginal changes to the DCU, and anything less than having the alternate worlds back is a cop out--but I enjoyed this one. We see Donna Troy again, and like most heroines these days, she's become far more busty than I remember from back in her Perez/Wolfman Teen Titans days. Still, the new black and star spangled leotard is much better than the red with yellow stars she used to wear. Instead of looking like a YMCA lifeguard, she now looks like the lead in a Vegas revue.

What 40 Is Really For

I was thinking at work today--I mean, in between thoughts of simply leaving and opening a tackle shop in Vegas or driving a 55 Mercury off a cliff at 85 m.p.h. while wearing a ballerina costume--that being 40 should be all about giving up dreams.

I think a dream a day is about right. So, today, I'll give up the dream of accepting an Oscar. Tomorrow, perhaps I'll give up the dream of finishing Final Fantasy XII. The next day, of actually getting up and not feeling a mixture of nausea and horror. Each day should bring its own small, worthless goodbye to a vain hope stuck clogging your head.

Or not. Sometimes on a cold Tuesday in November, these are the only thoughts you have.