A Stranger Is Just A Friend We Haven't Overshared With

So there I was, sitting in the abandoned wasteland that used to be Westmount Mall, my head still ringing post-Slayer. Vulcan Ninja was in a store purchasing the sorts of things that a man standing alongside a woman as she decides on her purchase can only create uncomfortableness or very lame jokes. So, temporary exile.

Out of the corner of my eye I see an old man approaching me. He keeps approaching, so I glance up past my tinnitus. He stops in front of me.

He's in his late seventies, wearing a baseball cap and the sort of glasses that shade into sunglasses outside. He looks at me.

"You know, I was walking in that store in the men's section and I let a really big fart," he said.

I continued to stare at him, hoping the long hair, fierce biker beard and accompanying death glare will make him turn and walk away.

It doesn't.

"So, I got the hell out of that area, movin' around to the next aisle because it was a really bad one. And then this other guy walks right into it with his wife," he continued. "And she turns to him and goes "You dirty pig!'" and she starts just hitting him. Hitting him in the chest!"

"Wow," I replied.

"She was really hitting him. If I hit my wife like that with all those cameras in there, I'd be arrested by the police. They'd throw me right in the jail. So after she goes away, I walk up to this guy. He's got to be in his eighties or so."

"Really?" I said.

He glances over at the store. I wonder if Vulcan Ninja will ever emerge. Maybe I died last night, and this is Limbo.

"So I says to the guy, 'Hey, I let that fart. It was me.' 'Well, it really upset her,' this old guy says. 'she doesn't like farting', he says."

"And you know, my wife don't like farting either, but she sure as hell don't hit me for it. And I just started wondering what these guy's life must be like, seeing how he can't even fart. She must beat the hell out of that guy. He's got a walker and everything."

"Geez," I said.

Silence reigned, except for the ringing in my ears and the crumbling decay of the mall around me.

"See what they're charging for water in there?" the old man asked, breaking the silence mercifully with words and not an ass-trumpet. "Four dollars. I can buy the same water for two at Wal-Mart. Quite a mark-up on water, wouldn't you say?"

"I think I'm going to try and find my wife," I said, getting up. "You take care of yourself, sir."

I walked into the store. He shouted after me, "Good luck with that!"

You Know What The World's Missing?

This came to me as I awoke this morning, as the first light of dawn broke across my bedchambers.

I realized--with a pang of loss--that there just aren't any videos dedicated to the magic of Walt Disney by Finnish symphonic metal bands. And that hurts. Because this world would be a better place if a metal band didn't sing about getting drunk, tarot boards, running for the hills, or hangers with the numerical designation 18. And it's just wrong that there isn't something like that---

Oh, wait.

There is.

Summer Evenings of Beautiful Apocalypse

The sky over London last evening had this beautiful, almost golden aura, the dying light of the day falling in a new palette over the city. Both Vulcan Ninja and I went outside to watch it, seeing a faint rainbow spanning the world to the east.

"It's the Apocalypse, " I said, almost on reflex, thinking how that says a lot about the 21st century mind--that any change at all in the world can only indicate the End of Times, even a different shade of evening light.

Since I used to be known as a writer, I should report that I'm spending time I should be utilizing best defeating metal slimes or rastlin' cattle working on a short story. I've set aside the Canadian Gothic novel, since this short story has that feeling of impermanence about it, that if I just leave it as a series of notes that I'll come back to it in six months time and not know what any of it means. This has happened to me a few times before, and it's unsettling. I've come across entire treatments for novels that I don't even remember writing. So that's what I'm working on right now, while the idea is still fresh. And it's one of those rare beasts that actually arrived in my head fully formed, and it was just be sheer ingratitude not to accommodate it.

There was an offer of sorts to work on a new newspaper that's coming out here soon, doing a column, but after seven years of working for the Free Press in that capacity, I think I'm done with that. Yes, I could use the money, but I already do something solely for a paycheque, and I never want writing to be that. If there isn't that grab, that spark of something mysterious and fun to the work, then I don't do it. And that's why I drive a ten year old car and only have two good pairs of pants. The long suffering, insufferable artist in me demands no less.

Spending Time With Old Friends

For most of this summer, I've been spending my video game time exploring the old West with my pal John Marston, herdin' cattle, playin' cards, shootin' them what's need shootin', and avoidin' using the entirety of 'ing' in common parlance.

But courtesy of Giant Bomb and their legendary Endurance Run, I've found myself revisiting the Pile of Shame and pulling this unfinished treasure from the pile.

Persona 4 is a game that I sunk about thirteen hours into, but became frustrated with, since I wasn't sure what I was doing was right, what it was I should be doing, hitting that JRPG wall that I've hit so often that it's starting to look like my death mask. But after seeing an episode of the Endurance Run, and seeing that I wasn't alone in my ignorance and in my fascination, I've gone back to it.

It's a very strange game. Strange not just because it's a high school dating sim, but strange because that's just where the game starts. It's also a murder mystery. It has lots of demons, and mysterious old men hanging out in limousines, playing Tarot.The localization of the game has left all the Japanese cultural touchstones in the game, especially in terms of social behaviour. It's very cartoony, but a lot of darkness runs through the plot. It's like a gem that seems filled with sunshine, but when you look closer, you see the bloodstains inside.

So I've been playing for an hour at a time, then going back to watch the Giant Bomb team make their way through the same areas. It's nerdy fun to see how often we make the same decisions, game-wise. And here I thought they were all Olympians of gaming! Persona makes noobs of us all.

The Comic Book Kiss Of Cancellation Death

Seems like I have this power.

Over the past year or so, I've noticed that the majority of books that I find and enjoy very shortly disappear from store shelves, forever. It seems that whenever I come across a book that I connect with, that I look forward to picking up, that I start telling people about, it starts a domino effect of almost instant cancellation.

Let's take a look at the books I've found, only to have them fade into the ether and/or cheap backbins of comics history.

EXILES--a fun alternate universe team up book by Jeff Parker. Witty, creative, a breath of fresh air. CANCELED after six issues.

AGENTS OF ATLAS- Another different take on the super hero genre, with kitschy robots, gorillas, and dragon led secret organizations. CANCELED.

LEGION OF SUPER-HEROES BY JIM SHOOTER--After years of uncertain storytelling, Jim Shooter returns with a definite grip on the team and a sure hand in actually delivering an ongoing, interesting story. CANCELED.

DOCTOR VOODOO, SORCERER SUPREME--I do love those old Seventies Marvel horror comics, and so does writer Rick Remender. While off to a rather shaky start, it was clear Remender was starting to build a solid horror comic that did something different, with a focus on voodoo and creepy shit. CANCELED AFTER FIVE ISSUES.

GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY/NOVA--Apart from those Seventies horror books, Marvel did a fine job with their cosmic books. Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning had an entire cosmic playground to play with in these books, bringing back old Micronauts and classic Jim Starlin characters. Great, great fun.

ON HIATUS.

See?

So what do I currently like, which is to say, what book creators will soon be receiving the red phone call of death from their editors?

THUNDERBOLTS--I like crappy B-list characters, and this is where they get to shine. But with Dark Reign over, it seems like Marvel isn't sure what to do with these guys now. Make them just like every other superteam? The sure sign of death is including a remnant from the Seventies horror books--Man Thing. It's like asking for it.

AVENGERS ACADEMY--Beautiful art by Mike McKone. Great take on the heroes in training nugget by Christos Gage. But includes Tigra, another Seventies icon. When will they learn?

DEADPOOL--No, wait, what in hell am I thinking? This book is going nowhere, unless Marvel milks the character so much with excess titles and crossovers that people just get fed up and move on. (See Lobo.) Naw, that will never happen. Right?

ULTIMATE SPIDER-MAN--That rarest of things--an actual once a month Spider-Man book that doesn't demand you read three or four other titles to get the all important Full Picture. Writer Brian Michael Bendis is focusing on characters and slow burn villains, asking his readers to be patient as he puts together another enjoyable little soap opera with masks and teen angst. He's forgetting, of course, that most comic book fans embrace their ADD like it's an Xbox Live Achievement.

RED ROBIN--A simple and beautiful book that understands why we fell in love with superhero comics in the first place--the fantasy of exciting adventure, of unlimited wealth, of beautiful women finding us interesting, and an impossible sense of absolute freedom. But it's short of gore and violence, so, well, you know, the market may not be ready for this.

ATLAS--Yes, the Agents are back, but outside of a few quick intros to the team, it's still the same quirky book it was before. And they've also added a Seventies B-list character--the 3-D Man. We know how this will end.

In tears.

High School Of The Dead: Zombies, Blood, and Lots of Bouncing

I really thought I was sick of zombies. Well, perhaps sick is the wrong word. Let's go with over-saturated. In the past few years, I've read my share of zombie comics (The Walking Dead, Marvel Zombies), read quite a few zombie novels (The Book of The Dead, World War Z), and seen a decaying handful of films (like Dead Snow, Shaun of The Dead, 28 Days Later and Zombieland). And let's not even start with video games. So I thought I'd had enough of the shambling undead and all the metaphors, allegories and brain eating they bring.

But no. I hadn't seen any zombie anime. It was an unploughed bit of zombie field that didn't know existed in me.That is, until I saw High School of The Dead. Then I realized I that I can handle just a bit more of the lurching, rotting masses and our ceaseless battle against them.

High School has a very basic plot. It opens with the aforementioned high school, and all the anime cliche characters we've come to expect to find in a secondary school in anime land. Then a man begins hammering at the school gates. When the PE teachers come to investigate, one of them is bitten by the man through the bars. And before you can shout 'Romero!', the zombie plague is inside the gates, and the high school suddenly has more problems than sexting and poor attendance. Seven minutes in, and the zombies are already attacking. No messing about here!

The animation is very high quality, with some interesting uses of light--the day actually goes from afternoon to twilight, with the colours changing as a result. The battle scenes are fun and imaginative, since many of these kids are martial artists and quickly use whatever they can to fight back with. There is also a wonderful feeling of not knowing who is going to survive this, with characters I was sure were heroes getting munched early on. There is that clash of tee-hee cutsey-ness we've seen before in high school anime with the constant spray of arterial blood from rampaging zombies, shown best in a scene with two giggling girls promising to be BFFs forever as they run, which quickly evaporates when one of them is caught.

There is a rather heavy emphasis on fan service here as well, which seems to be an economic necessity with anime aimed at older audiences these days. How you feel about this I'm sure is very dependent on whether you're male or not. It seems odd to have a charged scene where the characters are trapped by zombies, readying their makeshift weapons, when all of a sudden the camera swings around to aim its perspective up a character's skirt. But such is fan service, and such are fans.

As first episodes go, High School of The Dead doesn't disappoint. It's a very fun bit of modern anime, and I'm interested in seeing where it goes. You can watch the first episode for free here at Anime Network.

Alert! The Globe And Mail Now Tracks Science Fiction and Fantasy Sales! Alert! Alert!

Vulcan Ninja insists I shouldn't even look at the Books section of The Globe and Mail, since I often will launch into a loud tirade against something I've read there, complete with cuss words and raised fists to an uncaring heaven. Yet yesterday when I turned to that most dreaded of sections, a strap of leather in my mouth to stop me grinding my teeth, I actually began to cheer.

The Globe and Mail now tracks Science Fiction and Fantasy book sales for the week.

I applaud this move. And I especially applaud the fact that it shows what the majority of sales are, not sales taken from some brave yet with a clear agenda independent bookstore. I have nothing against indy bookstores at all, but when I want to see sales figures nationwide for books, I want a general overview, not what six people picked up in a store the size of a van.

So now I have new figures to obsess over, since I love obsessing over sales figures for books, comics, or video games. Vulcan Ninja does not share this, so this is what blogs are for.

Of the top ten, four are Star Wars books from the current Fate of The Jedi storyline, coming in at #3, #6, #7, and #10. Canadians do love their Star Wars. Since I stalled reading this series way back in the New Jedi Order, I have no idea what's going here. I suspect there are lightsabers and Jedi running around in robes, which, really, is enough of a sell point for me. But I'd feel like I cheated if I didn't wade through the rest of the NJO first, so it may be awhile before I get to these.

#9 is John Ringo's Eye of the Storm, a military sci-fi book. This is apparently Book Eleven in a series, which I find heartening. Canadians apparently like to get in on a series for the long haul, which may explain why we also love Steve Erikson.

#8 is a Transformers book, Exodus by Alex Irvine. This is the Official History Of The War For Cybertron. And it's hardcover. And it's Number 8 in Canada. Oh, nation of sweet geeks.

#5 is Flinx Transcendent, by the eternal Alan Dean Foster. I haven't read a Foster since Splinter of The Mind's Eye. Apparently, others have.

Another military science fiction series hits #2, Mission of Honor by David Weber, another book in his Honor Harrington series. I have the very first Harrington book, On Basilisk Station, but have yet to crack the cover. I want to, and since my book club is chewing over reading this one, I may before summer's end.

And of course #1 goes to Stephanie Meyer with her alien series The Host. Many may howl at that, but at least people are reading, and from those who know of such things, this is supposed to be better than her Twilight series.

So what does this tell us about Canadians? We like long series, we like our media tie-ins, and we like a military flavour to our science fiction. Many people will see a list like this and feel the end is nigh, but I always feel good when people are reading, when I see authors making money, and I see readers develop loyalty to a series or author. Not my usual blackened cynicism, but I've learned to grasp hope when I see it.

Anyway, I think this is a great thing the Globe is doing. Sure, The New York Times has been doing it for awhile, even going so far as to track manga sales, but it's promising first step.

If you have time, fire off an email to the Globe to thank them. The email address is focus@globeandmail.com.