In the Daze of the Why

Jerk!

That’s from Irredeemable Antman by Robert Kirkman and Phil Hester. I’ve read 11 of 12 issues, so far. Well, it’s typically Kirkman, in that it’s wry and unconventional. It centers on an opportunistic SHIELD agent, Eric O’Grady, who steals an experimental Antman suit… actually, he pries it off his dead best friend, who was killed in a supervillain attack. Not long after, he takes advantage of his dead friend’s grieving girlfriend by being a shoulder to cry on. He sleeps with her eventually, then ditches her, just like that. What a jerk.

Just like some real people.

Hanging Out With the Drama King

Lazy Sunday afternoon, so I’m just tuning out work and rediscovering old songs through CDs and tapes stacked haphazardly in my room. Like in an older post, “Fool for Love,” I can actually narrow down the songs that best connect with me, but unlike the old entry, this isn’t just a soundtrack that fits my love life. It’s a compact list of the songs that best describe aspects of my life. So generally, it’s the soundtrack of my life, my damn drama, and my thoughts on some bonds that aren’t necessarily romantic.

I’ve never been one to take crap from people, but I’m far from the epitome of balance and perfection. I need to change for the better too. I’ve always known that. And these songs reflect, and remind me of my continuous search for contentment and meaning. I’m sure I’ll hear more songs that connect, but for now, and as a whole, this rundown is quite accurate.

1. What Do You Hear In These Sounds- Dar Williams
“Oh how I loved everybody else, when I finally got to talk so much about myself.”

2. Ghosts-Dirty Vegas
“All I ever wanted was a chance to make it real.”

3. London Rain- Heather Nova
“When somebody needs you, well, there’s no drug like that.”

4. Walk Down The Road- Cynthia Alexander
“I look up at the sky. Now I know why.”

5. The Heart of the Matter- Don Henley
“You better put it all behind you, ‘cause life goes on.”

6. Saturday Night, Sunday Morning- River Detectives
“Where do you go when your love is dying? How do you stop yourself from crying?”

7. Proud to Fall- Ian McCulloch
“From start to finish, I was proud to fall.”

8. Me- Paula Cole
"I'm scared as hell but I know there’s something better.”

9. Both Sides Now- Joni Mitchell
“Something’s lost but something’s gained in living everyday.”

10. Collide- Howie Day
“Even the best fall down some time, even the wrong words seem to rhyme.”

11. Talking To My Angel- Melissa Etheridge
“I sold my soul for freedom. It’s lonely but it’s sweet.”

12. I’ll Follow the Sun- The Beatles
“And though I’ll lose a friend, in the end you will know.”

13. Gypsy- Suzanne Vega
"Please do not ever look for me but with me you will stay."

14. Full of Grace- Sarah McLachlan
“I know I can love you much better than this.”

15. These are Days- 10,000 Maniacs
“You’ll know it’s true that you are blessed and lucky.”

16. Windmills- Toad the Wet Sprocket
“I spent too much time seeking shelter.”

17. Good Mother- Jann Arden
“I’ve got money in my pocket. I like the color of my hair. I’ve got a friend who loves me.”

18. Head Over Feet- Alanis Morissette
“You are the bearer of unconditional things.”

19. Idlip- Imago
“In the arms of make-believe, sleep will set you free.”

20. Mystery- Indigo Girls
“There must be a thousand things you would die for. I can hardly think of two.”

21. Hallelujah- Jeff Buckley
“All I ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.”

22. Not Myself- John Mayer
“Suppose I said, you’re my saving grace?”

23. Honey Be Good- The Bible
“If you can’t be good, be good at being bad.”

24. Life Uncommon- Jewel
“No longer lend our strength to that which we wish to be free from.”

25. 29- Gin Blossoms
“At 29 you’d think I’d know better, living like a kid.”

26. Love Shines- Live
“Like an eternal sun, it shines.”

27. Dear God- Midge Ure
“Is there somebody watching over the mess that we made? We’re lost and alone and afraid.”

28. Everybody Hurts- REM
“Sometimes everything is wrong.”

29. Crucify- Tori Amos
“I’ve been raising up my hands, drive another nail in… got enough guilt to start my own religion.”

30. Here’s Where The Story Ends- Sundays
“It’s that little souvenir of a colorful year that makes me smile inside.”

The Strongest Morphine

There are days when you just don’t think about it. Or at least, not too much.

Love can be the best thing. When you wake up, the face or name of that special person you singled out may be the first thing that registers in your head. It can be more than one name or one face, actually, because the term can be loosely defined these days, and romance isn’t always necessarily about exclusivity in some cases.

You want to be better in every possible way, even when you know that you’re accepted and adored just as you are. You learn to give without expecting anything in return, and stretch past your limits, but don’t mind at all, because you’re after your partner’s happiness. You hope, and you brave the unknown together, because there’s that understood arrangement, a deal that didn’t require too many words. You speak your own language, move to the beat of your own drum, surrender repeatedly to reach that ecstatic spasm. The world doesn’t exist for you in those pure, powerful moments and understandably so.

But things change. Your life changes. You don’t see the old things the same way, but know that some bonds are just unbreakable. That’s no excuse to take them for granted, but you do, anyway. It may be because of that new world you’re excitedly discovering, or the alluring new obsessions that presented themselves to you. You realize that you’re the now-or-never type, a person who knows how being deprived feels, so you make up for lost time. You don’t think about love. You feel it, or you assume you do, but you do get confused sometimes. So you try not to think about it. At least, not too much.

But when you feel your life spinning out of control, you do wait for someone to step up and become what you need. Sometimes there’s that need to just lose yourself in others, to give yourself a better perspective. Or just, you know, to get off. You’re not proud of it, although in some cases, you may be, but you live for the moment that way and you’re not thinking of love at all. You get conflicting signals, and you send some too, you have to admit. You don’t believe that you’re this way because your zodiac sign, or the palm reader, said so. But you find it funny that their descriptions of you, and your relations, are uncannily true.

You still believe in love, even when some events have made you a little cynical. You’re happy for those new lovers you see, but you’re wondering how they’ll fare after just a few years together. You also wonder how those you’ve slept with are doing, sometimes, so you check up on some of them through their floating journals or profile pages. You try to understand why they need to return to some semblance of ordinariness, and you do, eventually. You understand how to love just a person’s body, or company, during those fleeting minutes you’re intimately and dangerously close.

You remember falling in love more than once, but even when you acknowledge that some things aren’t the same anymore and there’s no turning back, you rediscover those old bonds. You change, you try to be more giving, and don't think about the eventual disagreements. True love, you know now, is total acceptance and sacrifice. But you don’t really care about the definitions too much. You’re just glad that you know when it’s there and how to give it.

You worry about the future, like you worry about everything else, but the happy endings will come. Just don’t think about it too much.

Only Stops Along My Way

So.

Almost every day for the past week, I only had about four to five hours sleep. Body clock’s outta whack again, but I’ve stayed ruminative like I was for the most of August. My head’s busy juggling priorities; it’s done a good job of separating work from recreation, so far. But it’s also dissecting and analyzing recent and current experiences, trying to figure out the roots and effects of decisions I’ve made, or have yet to make.

Looking back at my archived entries, I noticed how different things were for me professionally and personally when the year started. I can say with certainty that it’s been strange. And interesting. And humbling. And bittersweet.

I’ve seen friendships evolve into things more than bargained for; I’ve gone through the different stages of grief; I owned up to mistakes made and tried to be the better man. I felt loved, loathed, adored, ignored; I got over things and people and moved on, maybe a little wiser. I gave, and was selfish. I’m learning to let things go, and to stay emotionally detached from some things that have become obsessions. I get blasé at certain times, and hypersensitive during others. I’m impatient but the epitome of contentment at once. That’s how mixed-up it was for the last two months.

I think, at certain points, I feel like I’m still in school. You still try to take everything in simultaneously. The backdrops have changed, but somehow, there are things that remain the same. I still feel insecure sometimes, and my confidence just inexplicably vanishes when I’m faced with some quandaries. You also get to meet the same characters all over again, only older and better-dressed: the kindred misfits, the quiet martyrs, and the condescending, conceited brats, among other archetypes.

But it’s also different, sluts with standards notwithstanding. Like everyone else, I can speak up now. I can do things that I never imagined doing when I was young. I don’t really care about belonging, anymore. The divisions between the cliques have blurred, and real fellowship now comes in myriad manifestations. I build for my future, and that means that I’m in that endless cycle of proving myself. The stakes are higher; the drama’s more difficult to escape. But I remind myself that that’s just the way it is.

Someone asked me, about seven years ago, if I felt happy with my life. I hesitated to answer, but I remember replying in the affirmative. The hesitation gave away the truth, though. Well, I was in a totally different place and state of mind then. But now, despite all the emotional crap that I’m going through, I can say, without any hesitation whatsoever, that yeah, I’m really happy. I know how happiness feels. I’m living my life by being true to myself.

God, I so need to sleep.

Never Be Your Unemployed Boyfriend

There you go. It’s like I’m trick or treating, because looking like this is far from normal for me. Well, thanks to my brother, who gave tips on what to wear and took the picture. I’m your friendly insurance salesman slash school administrator! I feel like singing a suave Bryan Ferry song. And dancing, even. This must be how cosplaying feels. My friends like me in the duds, maybe because they’ve never seen me look so… dignified.

It’s a good thing that I don’t have to wear a tie on a daily basis, and I think I’ve more respect now for people that do. It feels constricting, plus the continuous attention to tidiness and symmetry of the whole getup can get quite distracting. But anyway, I did the assignment early Thursday in yuppie wear and, well, I didn’t feel too conscious about it. I think I like wearing this type of clothing, but only in places that have chilly airconditioning (which the hotel venue I went to has, so it was cool).

It was a pretty typical event. Took down notes, and looked forward to the free food. Didn’t like the salad too much because of the strongly flavored dressing, but the serving of chicken on mashed potato was orgasmerrific. So was the two-inch high cylindrical chocolate mousse with sponge cake layer and chocolate, cherry and strawberry toppings. Yum.

Anyway, again, some friends liked this pic above, as well as a few others of me in other angles, which I posted elsewhere. “Elsewhere” would be my new Multiply site. Yep, assimilated once more. Actually, I like that it’s got all the features covered, and that its content segregation scheme makes for an organized and clean look. It’s like your typical online journal mashed with your social networking site, so it rarely gets boring.

I’ll still blog here, of course, but I will be posting select entries, old and new, in that other corner too. When I’m free, that is. For now, must get some rest. Barely had enough sleep these past few days and my body still kinda hurts from gym and other strenuous activities. Yeowch.

Hmm, wonder what other uniforms I can pull off? I think I wanna wear something that uniform-fetishists might dig this Halloween. Heheh. Whatev.

Later.

Minutes to Memories

Partylicious

Back in the late ‘90s when I was having my Lilith Fair fixation, I discovered Luscious Jackson’s fun “Electric Honey” album, easily one of the most feelgood, playful and solid recordings I’ve ever listened to. The songs had catchy pop sensibilities, but were often infused with styles ranging from house to trance, creating varied moods and atmospheres from track to track. The band gets mysterious with the thumping “Christine,” eerie with “Fly,” quite heavy on the cheerleader-y rock ditty “Fantastic Fabulous,” funky and sultry with the picturesque “Alien Lover,” and so on. The trio made up of vocalists Jill Cunniff, Gabrielle Glaser and drummer Kate Schellenbach made this 1999 album really worth it. Here’s the cassette tape (!) cover:

I like their lyrics as much as their music. I just love the line, “’Cause abs and buns are so much fun!” from the song “Sexy Hypnotist.”

Back in the day, it’s a three-way tie between "Electric Honey," Garbage’s “Version 2.0,” and Save Ferris’ “It Means Everything” albums; they’re the most upbeat, and liveliest I listened to during that period. It felt like either you were with them, or they were singing those songs just for you. It’s amazing when art connects that way.

Happy Birthday Dicky!

Didn’t feel like sending you an e-card or whatever, so this is what I came up with. It’s a day early, but let me and the Feroverse be the first ones to greetcha. Enjoy the food and get plump; you’ll burn it off the next day.

I Remember You

Senior Prom! I cropped my date out. Or to be more exact, I cut myself out of the 8R picture. Yeah, I amuse myself by sharing old photos of me. It’s not as if I’m stuck in the past or anything; I just don’t recognize the person, or the wherefores, in most of these long-forgotten images. Here, I just know that I was 15 years young. Damn, where’d the time go?

This particular pic reminds me, though, that I need to be in business attire for a coverage assignment some time next week. Drat. But that's what the boss wants. I’m used to being shirtless and barefoot while working, so going out all yuppied up’s gonna feel odd.

Thank goodness for corporate drone siblings, who may know a thing or two about what I should wear. I need to have a picture taken of that. Or not.

Child of the Universe

Never Lived the Dreams of the Prom Kings

What a week. Played a little, but mostly worked. Out of necessity, I have to work harder now, and I’m grateful for jobs offered me just recently. So thank you for that, Ike, and thanks too, Les, Tel, Zane and Donna for being cool to hang with, for every brief chance I get to do that these past few days. I appreciate it.

I’m glad that I’m being offered work now. I don’t have to struggle as much unlike years before, which is a part of my history that, without going too much into detail, was quite bad. As in, no option but to subsist on the cheapest burger value meal bad. Not as bad as it got for young Jesse Bradford’s character in Soderbergh's King of the Hill, where he was eating cutout pictures of food, I know, but it was close. Never again.

Someday, the World’s Much Brighter

I saw an episode of the Morgan Spurlock-hosted show 30 Days, where a young man, conservative straight guy Ryan, was transplanted into an alien environment--Castro District in San Francisco--for a month (hence the series title). That was real interesting. It offered a realistic view of gay life, which includes vocal opposition by the usual haters, the antigay rednecks with placards that say “God Abhors You” or “God laughs when a fag dies.” Those parts, where people declare their usual divisiveness, were alarming, sad and pitiful.

Nevertheless, the SF denizens were shown living their lives, gayly and without fear. The straight guy, Ryan, was resistant to accepting the cultures within that homosexual haven, and also the openness of some gay people at first (although it was funny that he danced shirtless when he got drunk in a bar). But he seemed a little enlightened near the end of his sojourn, after talking to a small group of PFLAG members (parents of gay kids), who explained to him that a gay person just knows that he or she is one, just as straights might know what they’re attracted to, which is the simplest and most understandable explanation.

Invincible As Long As I’m Alive

Just pictures taken post-summer, when I was alternately Mr. Brightside and Mr. Dyingly Sad. I’m back to being regular old me, but a little wiser to some of the ways of the world. Or at least, to some inescapable truths.

Was stuck in some moments, but now got out of 'em.

Electricity Flows With the Very First Kiss

This came out last Wednesday in the 2BU section of the paper. Thank you Pam! And thanks too, Albert Rodriguez, for the cool and funny caricature. Writing this made a little giddy with nostalgia, and reminded me of how people first occupied space in my head, like pals John (first saw him at the school library, he was quietly smiling as he was opening a comics-making how-to book) and Dicky (he dropped by the launch of Alamat Comics’ “Avatar” years before we started hanging out).

Firsts and that sense of self
Or, new sensations and the late bloomer

By Oliver M. Pulumbarit
2BU! Contributor

As multi-sensory beings that constantly experience new things, we consider many firsts as personal milestones. More often than not, we vividly recall the first time we went to school, or went to the dentist for some teeth-pulling, or reeled from heartbreak.

There’s a first time for everything, as the cliché goes, and experience, as another goes, is the best teacher. After school, the barrage of tests continues, but out of the confines of the classroom, real life has its own set of evolving rules. School should prepare you for its craziness, but chances are, you’re on your own, kid, outside.

In recent months, I was able to enjoy once forbidden or once ignored pleasures that a late bloomer like me hadn’t had, such as getting inebriated. My “alcoholidays,” as a friend called them, were brief, but offered me a temporary and timely escape from personal routines. I documented the total percentage of the alcoholic content of beverages I consumed, at least sometimes, as part of the “research.”

Trying out a few different drinks in succession often led to sensations once alien to me, which made my vacation real interesting. It was fun, sure, but holidays must end too. Nevertheless, that experience also led to another first.

I began ascertaining my direction for the future, and I’ve come to conclusions that I can’t really disclose here. However, I can say that I started re-assessing my life, not that I haven’t done that before, but this time it’s really different.

I mulled and pondered privately, as well as over that vast, shape-shifting dimension called the Web. I map my growth by reading and re-reading my old journal entries, looking at old and new pictures, and updating my resume. I see the human connections I’ve made, both intimate and otherwise, and I remember how I’ve affected others and vice-versa.

There were many firsts, but they weren’t necessarily the best. There’s liberation by repetition, love at second sight, truth in rediscovery. And when some habits have formed or mutated, you look back fondly at those firsts anyway.

Because we perceive differently, each experience is unique and every other discovered object, obsession or muse becomes part of a series of personal mnemonic devices. These trigger specific memories of moments when you did or felt something special.

I remember the first time I listened to Sarah McLachlan, Jeff Buckley and the Beatles; I remember when my taste buds first encountered strange but wondrous concoctions; I remember how floored I was after reading Alan Moore’s “Watchmen.” Each thought connects colorfully to other bright mental snapshots. I distinctly remember getting published for the first time. I remember accepting that I can’t and won’t fit into religious cliques. I remember tensely writing about homophobia last year. The thoughts and sensations are nigh-infinite.

You learn much about yourself and your chosen path after those initial eureka moments. Doing things that have become part of who you are for the nth time can still feel like that seminal experience. I have an unwritten checklist of new things to do that, knock on wood, I hope to accomplish before I shuffle off this mortal coil.

Ultimately, each of us wants to be comfortable, to be happy in our own spheres. Whether your predilections or ambitions have led to success or failure, these are your own, and your lessons shape you in ways that only you can truly appreciate. The rush of doing something new, well, very few things can compare to that.

I can say that I’ve found elusive truths, painful dichotomies and beautiful, unfolding enigmas along the way, after some life-altering firsts. I’m bound to encounter more. I’ve always found bliss in many forms, colors, and tastes, and discovering new things and people in this planet that appeal to me adds to the thrill of living.

Wanna Free Fall, Out Into Nothin'

Love, love Peter David’s current run on X-Factor. The odd X-team is a uniquely addictive bunch; the drama and storytelling dynamics of the book are differently absorbing. Witty dialogue, praiseworthy art by Pablo Raimondi, and the further growth of characters that I grew up with--Jamie Madrox, Rahne Sinclair, Siryn, Guido, Rictor--make the title one of my current must-reads, along with Dan Slott’s Avengers Initiative and She-Hulk, Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men, and the updated Marvel Universe Handbooks. Am just enjoying a breather now, and catching up on some comics, after being bombarded with info on car loans, details of which I'm trying to absorb for a motoring article that I should write soon.

You gotta review references for that assignment carefully, like everything else, yeah, but I can do it, I just need to organize what I’ve absorbed about it so far. I think I just need some rest, just so that my mind can rest and be refreshed when I finally do write about it. If the boss is reading this, by the way, I’ll get to it, worry not. This is how I do things, and trust me; I’m more efficient this way, sometimes.

John and I watched Surf’s Up last Saturday. Hm, the story feels a little like Pixar’s Cars. Shia LaBeouf and Jon Heder voice bird surfer dudes in the Sony Animation offering. Huge mascot of Shia’s penguin character Cody Maverick was a bit intimidating when it popped up in the Galleria theater before the screening, actually. Kids seemed to like him, though. Had to relax after too, as Sunday was partly devoted to work.

And by lunch-ish the next day, I went to the First Philippine International Motor Show, which had spiffy, sleek new vehicles of all shapes and sizes on exhibit, as well as sexily clad promo girls that entertained some visitors. Um, moving on…

Dicky and I met up a few hours later in Makati, and he had me do a few loose pencil layouts for his story. No, I’m not drawing that; the creator-artist of the characters wants him to script and plot it for him. Oh, by the way, Benedict lent me the latest Fudge magazine, where pics of him and an article centering on his cosplaying appeared. Coolness. Anyway, I’m real sleepy now, just like in this pic. I know, I always look that way. Must catch some z’s, now.

Downpour On My Soul

Strange. I lost six pounds and I didn’t know it. Well, I certainly don’t look or feel lighter, but I actually am. I thought I misread the supermarket’s weighing scale at first, but I checked my weight again on our old scale and the result’s the same. Maybe it’s caused by over-exertion, maybe I’ve been trying to balance my diet without really paying attention, I’m not really sure. But I ain’t complaining.

Weather’s lovely, at least now that it’s not raining too hard. All those talks of the country undergoing a lengthy drought, well, there’s none of that in the last two days. Okay, rain’s falling down again as I type this. Cool weather’s just perfect for scandalous intimacy.

But that’s just me. Taste and be tasted.

One With the Mud

The family used to live in a part of Metro Manila that was susceptible to heavy flooding when I was a kid. There was one time that one big flood forced us to move to another town (it would be years before it was officially a city), where we stayed for some time, until our home area was livable again. I remember alighting from a tall multi-wheeler truck, grudgingly, my Mom handing me to an uncle, who carried me down to dry ground. Our temporary home was a spacious enough place (mostly because I was a kid); we lived for many weeks in the upper floor of a hardware store that was run by relatives. I liked it there, I have happy and innocent memories about that temporary shelter, but I soon forgot about it when we went back to start anew in our old place.

It would be years before I’d encounter a flood again. I was studying at a flood-prone Manila university, but I didn’t really know about the fact until one rainy August noon after Anatomy class, during my freshman year. The jeep to Lawton, where South-bound airconditioned buses were waiting for passengers, crawled for over an hour, if I remember correctly. A classmate and I took the same jeep, and by the time we reached the station, floodwater had risen up to my shins, but there was no choice but to brave the cold, icky pond that rose in front of the Post Office.

We tried not to think about it, and it would be quite some time before the bus would find itself on the road, as vehicles, fast getting literally swamped, were barely moving. The bus stopped every few meters, which meant that some of the bored passengers, students sitting near us, would eventually introduce themselves to their seatmates. It was Noah's fricking Ark. People were getting on and off the bus, which got weird at one point.

There was a guy, probably aged mid- to late-thirties in casual clothes, impatient like every one else, who kept standing up to look out the windshield for vehicular movement. I got a little frantic when I, along with another guy, noticed that a gun was tucked at his waist, during the few seconds that the lower part of his shirt moved upwards when he stood up. Good thing he left soon, with his plastic bag of presumably rented laserdiscs, without starting a commotion. Was he a cop, a mugger, a gun-toting barangay tanod? We talked about it with our seatmates, but later forgot about that too. The bus moved again, a few meters every ten to fifteen minutes, it seemed.

Well, my classmate and I were able to fend off hunger by eating some hardboiled eggs we bought from a vendor, who probably wished he cooked more to accomodate that long line of hungry commuters. I don’t remember if we drank anything, though. It was dark soon, and people just dozed off because we really didn’t have anything else to do. My feet didn’t feel like they waded in cold filthy water many hours before. Just felt freezing, so I blanketed myself with my jacket. Some time later, I’d be really thankful that I pee standing up, and it felt like heaven to finally relieve myself nearby. It’s gross; I won’t even describe the specifics, at least not today.

I got home several hours later (past 3 a.m.!), umbrella soaked, clothes drenched and eager to bathe in rubbing alcohol. Many years later, my skin still crawls when I recall that ordeal.

One With Everything

Open Up the Paper, There’s a Story of an Actor

While re-structuring my resume, I noticed that the work I've done so far for the paper is one huge mnemonic device. In a span of a couple of years and hundreds of articles with bylines, my list of published works and their corresponding dates brought me back to crucial points where I was changing in different ways. Arranging that list reminded me of events and feelings I’d already forgotten, but while I'm not exactly one of those with elephantine recollection for exact dates, I do remember the times when specific articles were written and how I perceived things back then.

I remember how I was contacted to cover each specific event, and these assignments collectively allowed me to meet new people along the way, some of whom became close friends up to this day. I remember songs I was listening to, and shows I was following, during those months. And as these weren’t all interview pieces, I’m also recalling what I was doing when I see the titles of old movie articles. There’s a bevy of films I was lucky enough to view for free, even when a sizeable portion of them were the equivalent of junk food, quick fixes, or empty sex. Still, there were movies I’m glad I’ve seen and written about, whether I got in for free or not. I’ve also been to gatherings where the supposedly highbrow were laughing at things that weren’t funny, and the seemingly lowbrow had profound insights to share.

I find it cool to have met really smart and multi-talented people from the paper and other broadsheets. I recall particular conversations with them during press conferences and whenever I occasionally run into them off-work. I’ve had plenty of opportunities where I was tapped to do exclusives, and I’m grateful for them too. I’ve met or talked to people whom I’ve seen only on the big and small screens before. I don’t get too wowed by them at the end of the day, because for me, each person I’m tasked to write about is a job.

The list also yielded one of the more memorable ones for me. One of the harder things that I covered, I must say, was a show organized by the Make a Wish people, held at Glorietta about four years ago, where I had to interview parents of gravely sick kids after. That was humbling, and it kinda puts everything in perspective every time I think about it. The celebrities who participated told me how they’re glad to put their popularity to great use, and to share for that cause.

Anyway, the publish dates also trigger vivid memories of long-forgotten personal journeys I had to take. I smile at mistakes made that I guess were inevitable. Behind the scenes, as a person, I was changing in good ways and bad, in ways that I never imagined.

I still am.

What Doesn’t Kill Ya…

Been enjoying Avengers Initiative by Dan Slott and Stefano Caselli. I’m also reading a bunch of new Marvel Universe Handbooks, which finally give profiles to new or obscure figures, aside from updating some famous characters’. I’m pleasantly surprised by The Marvel Tarot by writer-designer David Sexton, which isn’t exactly the traditional profile handbook, but its cardstock cover and non-sequential format makes it fit right in. It’s a rich, surreal look at Dr. Strange’s mystic deck of cards and its unexpected, intriguing connection to Marvel’s magical characters, as interpreted by fellow sorcerer Ian McNee. I’m halfway through that, now.

Anyhoo, just some quotables from other recent superhero comic books I read:

"Really? You tried to sleep with Wolverine and he’s tried to kill your cousin. And what about Iron Man? He shot your cousin into space!"
--Mallory Book to Jen Walters/She-Hulk, after denying she slept with Juggernaut

"If you and I--two Jamie Madroxes had--you know--with each other, would that constitute actual--you know…"
--Jamie Madrox dupe to original Jamie

"I pulled him inside-out and saved the universe. What have you done lately, Tony?"
--Nova telling Iron Man of Annihilus' fate

"Every single one of them could fly. In the end I think they inspired me more than I inspired them."
--Superman reminiscing about the Legion

"I never dressed like Hawkeye. Even when he wore a headband and a skirt."
--Kate Bishop to Clint Barton

"Avengers seniority?! Look me in the eye and say that again, Delroy!"
--Rage to Triathlon during World War Hulk

"Saw you on TV $%#@ing up your whole life, Peter."
--Clint Barton to Peter Parker

"Hear me well, Bruce… your anger means nothing to me. I am the Sorcerer Supreme. I could snuff the feeble flame of your mortal life with the merest twitch of the finger."
--Doctor Strange to the Hulk

"Dear Meatball, I have this thing right now where I only date nice guys. Give me a call if you decide to BE that nice guy. Maybe I’ll show you how to REALLY waltz, someday."
--Huntress’ handwritten note to Catman

"What red-blooded male wouldn’t want to lose his virginity to an exotic alien princess with such huge…eyes?"
--Barbara Gordon to Dick Grayson, referring to his hookup with Starfire

Girl Gone Wild

Another illustration I submitted last year for that zombie tribute book I mentioned a few entries back. This is my interpretation of the little girl zombie from Night of the Living Dead. Fully penciled on vellum paper, too. I wonder what happened to that project…

Nineteen, Nineties

The nine things I can remember from when I was 19:

1. I sported that hairstyle for a few months. No, that’s not a mullet, although I’m guilty of having one about a year or so later. Gyuck.

2. I just recovered from some illness when the picture was taken.

3. I just quickly recovered from heartbreak, too.

4. The family went to Agoo around that time to visit the supposedly miraculous site of the Mary apparitions, but I don’t know now if that was weeks before or after this pic.

5. I took up some advanced classes that summer to free me of some minor subjects in the upcoming schoolyear. It’s a nerdy thing, I know, but it was boring if you got stuck at home and did nothing. Taking them early proved helpful later too because I was able to devote time to my thesis a few months later.

6. I had a bunch of Bram Stoker’s Dracula movie trading cards.

7. I really enjoyed swimming, even when I’m only familiar with the basics.

8. I carried a heavy three-ring binder/clearbook that compiled a lot of my original character designs in my bag whenever I could.

9. My Dad gave me a short talk that basically reminded me to respect, and not take advantage of my, er, “admirers.” >cough!<

Feet on Ground, Heart in Hand

I’ve often wondered about how my life would’ve been had circumstances been different early on. I was almost “switched” with another baby all those years ago. According to my mother, when I was about to be brought home from the hospital, a nurse misidentified me in the nursery and almost handed another child, who looked nothing like me at all. But it’s a good thing that my parents knew how I looked like. That story’s been told over and over with some amusement and I just smile every time it comes up. Maybe it’s because I’m grateful that I didn’t end up heaven knows where, and that despite the occasional growing-up problems, I consider myself fortunate to have such patient, loving parents.

They tried their darnedest to give me what I needed, and kept reminding me to value education. They hoped and prayed that I’d take my studies seriously, and to some extent, I can say that I did, despite a few serious bouts with boredom and an array of adolescent crises. School, for me, was sixteen years of routines, studded with various beautiful discoveries and unrelenting miseries. Throughout that time, my brain has gained and dumped an immeasurable amount of information, and it’s only after that long period of schooling that countless hours of problem-solving and gained knowledge would truly be put to the test.

But education never really ends, and chances are, making really tough decisions in the real world can make you appreciate that you have the basic gifts of literacy, comprehension, and access to special skills. I’m thankful for every day that I’m able to perform my duties. But there are many things that you have to experience for yourself, intricacies that were never really discussed in class. And you have to learn things about yourself, sometimes, to ascertain your own life’s direction, to find a real point in going on.

Sometimes, you learn that no matter how adept you are at handling disappointment, you still feel the pain of rejection or loss. But you just learn to move on or wait, and hope for the best. And when you disappoint those dearest to you, you just do your best to win them back and heal those wounds.

Sometimes, you learn to ignore those old teachings about charity and selflessness when you have barely enough for yourself. Still, you’ll surprise yourself when you give freely to those few you value the most, even when you have almost nothing left.

Sometimes, some of the biggest, most mind-blowing secrets are shared in intimate confessions that happen in dimly lit rooms. You get a sense of the bigger picture when you realize how things and people really connect behind the scenes.

And sometimes, you just have to have fun and experience some once-forbidden pleasures. You’ll make mistakes, sometimes consciously, but you’ll eventually examine flaws that you need to work on.

As far as learning technical abilities is concerned, it’s a wondrous age when you can read, hear and see the works of an infinite number of individuals in a number of venues. I’m constantly awed by certain bloggers, those gifted with a flair for evoking genuine reactions and transmitting picturesque ideas with the creative combination of words. I try to discern patterns from changing writing styles and different inner voices, just so I can figure out what makes them tick, and why they’re appealing to me. Wordsmiths, visual artists, tunesmiths, they all have something to teach and share. There are those concepts, thoughts, compositions and melodies that just appeal to my tastes and preferences. There are times that I’d just listen to conversations, or lurk at forums, and observe how people communicate. I become a sponge that quietly absorbs the oft-unwritten mechanics of those interactions.

Inspiration comes in many forms, and as the cliché goes, “I’ll stop learning when I’m dead.” Perhaps I’m writing this because I’m appreciating some blessings now--better late than never, I suppose--and that I’m glad to have been given opportunities to pursue my interests, to learn how to make this life a little easier.

I’m glad that they got a good look at me before I went to that hospital nursery, too.

It Must've Been Because, Because, Because

Selling the Drama

Stuff for Sale!

Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring Toys

-Set of five action figures from Series 1, P3,500.00 (Negotiable)

-Sam, Frodo, Legolas, Strider (Aragorn), Gandalf (each has various accessories)

-All unopened and in great condition, released in 2001

- - - - - - - - -
Lexy, Nance & Argus: Sex, Gods, Rock & Roll

-P 130 per copy

-P100 each for two copies or more

-Some reviews here

Those interested can email me contact numbers (cel and landline numbers) at lexynanceargus (at) yahoo (dot) com. Please specify which item/s you are getting in the title. I can personally bring them to Glorietta, Shangri-la Mall, SM Southmall or Alabang Town Center only.

Also, just a reminder: please do not send invitations or emails with attachments, as those will be unopened.

Waited For Wednesday

Attended a press launch/party last Wednesday at the Alchemy Bar near Tiendesitas. It went well; met a few people from the usual circles (which converged that night because a lot of the participants and guests are basically multi-tasker types, and the event celebrated a multi-media coalition). I said hey to familiar faces like Jude (I forget his surname, Dennis Ladaw’s friend), Vives Anunciacion, Ric Gindap and Yonina Chan, and was introduced to Mina Caliguia, Raya Martin, Raymond Red, Ed Cabagnot, and a bunch of other cool, talented people whose names escape me right now. It’s great to see artists, writers and other creative persons in one place. Fun work night; was able to interview an ex-congresswoman from a prominent political clan who spearheaded the entire thing, too.

Oh, the bad thing was, I didn’t get to taste the yummy-looking pizza that was served earlier because I was too busy interrogating people. But I was able to get a glass of Coke Lite, chips, breadsticks, some nice and tasty chicken spread (I think that’s what it was), and a bottle of San Mig Light. So it’s okay.

Beer. Been a while.

He Can’t Stand to Fly

This is sort of a re-enactment of that awesome scene in JLA/Avengers # 2, where Superman gets beaten up by Hercules, Wonder Man, She-Hulk, Iron Man and the Vision after the Kryptonian K.O.-ed Thor with one super-punch.

Wonder Man: “You don’t do that!”
Hercules: “Not to him--not to Thor!”

Hm, I think Sentry and Superman should meet up and do the obligatory “misunderstanding” fight sequence soon. I honestly don’t know how powerful Sentry is, but yeah, it’s about time that the two premier superteams meet again. They’ve each expanded their membership since the 2003 crossover. Maybe Kurt Busiek and George Perez can reunite and do that sequel. Or if Perez isn’t available, maybe Art Adams, Carlos Pacheco, or any of those guys with a knack for ultra-detailed super-melees can do it.

Are They Alive Or Thoughts That Drift Away?

I drew this last year for a “Night of the Living Dead” pinup gallery comic book. I wonder how that project’s doing. It was in the process of sorting out a deluge of illustrations the last time I contacted the people involved. Anyway, this was fully penciled on vellum paper. Oh, this reminds me, if the cinema nearest you is still showing “Planet Terror,” go see it. So freaking cool and gut-busting.

Sitting So Pretty With a Criminal Grace

Gotham by Batlight

My Bat-Family. Left to right: Robin, Batgirl, Catwoman, Batman, Batwoman, Huntress and Nightwing. Hmm, I wonder why Gotham’s criminals still stay in the city, when these masked protectors will just keep pounding on them when they get caught? Yeah, they’re masochistic, and are often led by the crazy Arkham-ites, but still. Maybe Bats and company should start busting them as a tighter team, like this take-no-crap bogeyman army, and not chase after loony thugs separately. Throw in Oracle, the new Question, and maybe new people that can take over the Azrael, Orpheus, and Spoiler identities, and it’s gonna be crime-free in a matter of days. But even then, the opposition will probably hire a JLA-level threat to keep Gotham streets bat-free. Still, a more organized Bat-team looks mighty cool.

In the Front Row, the Front Row

Had a great time at the invitational screening of The Simpsons Movie. Well, I had to embarrass myself first 'cause I got persuaded into joining a contest prior to the showing. Let me just say that I know that I have some genuine talents, but singing a song that I don’t know just isn’t one of ‘em. Gack. I wanted to join the trivia contest, not that other fricking game (where we had to be judged by the clapping audience!). John, who went to the CR prior to me joining (too much time was being wasted, I had to step up!) told me that he could practically see a gigantic “WTF?!” in his head as he saw me in front. He laughed his ass off, while I was wishing that the earth would just swallow me. Well, I was a good sport, and I’m not thinking about how bad I was at that, at least not too much.

What a weird experience. I got some consolation goodies like a Simpsons notebook, stickers, and a kid’s wristwatch (which I hope John’s niece will like). Well, thought joining it was gonna be painless. It started when the deejay-host was looking for a third contestant; he singled me out ‘cause I was only a few feet from him in the front row, and he called me “a lovely man.” He asked if I wanted to try, and I just had to say, “Sure, why not.”

I’m such an easy slut, sometimes.

Arrh, Eighteen

Looking back, the toughest part of being eighteen? That's a hard one. For me, among them was trying to survive my sophomore college year, which didn’t feel as fun or as breezy as the first year. The subjects, the company and the professors weren’t as interesting, save for those few instances and rare souls who made life easier and more meaningful for me. But generally, I didn’t feel too into my school work. I found it burdensome to be attending classes that felt like a waste of time, and to be lugging around art instruments and illustration boards when I could just hang out somewhere and escape. I felt preoccupied, and those drawing sessions didn’t feel as relaxed to me as they used to be. But I was able to get into them again, inspired and rejuvenated, the next school year.

The photo above was taken at Filbar’s Galleria, during one of comic book artist Whilce Portacio’s earliest signing appearances. I was digging the art of Todd McFarlane and Jim Lee as well, back then. I got into comic books more, and wanted to become involved in the creation process of some eventually. That year was also the time I was introduced to the works of greats such as Simon Bisley and Nick Manabat, and to fellow artist-creators and devout comics fans.

As far as being considered an adult is concerned, I didn’t really think about it seriously during those days. But as a first-time voter, I was quite excited, idealistic, maybe a little naïve. It was a little funny that the poll watcher had to ask me my year of birth because I probably looked younger than my age. Going to R-18 movies was hassle-free too, not that I got questioned about it when I’d watch them as a younger teenager. But the censors-butchered films for adults at the time were often bewildering.

At that age, almost everything led to a momentous turning point. Personal milestones took place. There were some endings, quiet epiphanies, and the beginning of new things.

Nailed Ya

Had those fingernails looking that way for almost a week. I had to remove ‘em after one nail’s paint started chipping off. The pic was taken at Rockwell, when I was resting near where the New Worlds Alliance was having their event. That white rubber bracelet, I got that last summer. It entitled me to free beer. Drank like a fish. Fun times.

Speaking of fun, I’ve seen some episodes of Kathy Griffin’s My Life on the D-List. The woman is damn funny and smart. She used an interesting analogy (okay, I’m gonna paraphrase for a bit) when she explained how a magazine she was contributing to kept contacting her about a piece that she’d do for them. But after a while, when she’d call them about the finished piece, she felt somewhat ignored. She likened it to such a situation where a person courted her incessantly, then slept with her, but couldn’t be reached when she tried contacting him. After the chase, it’s like the magazine wasn’t interested anymore. It’s like being told, Kathy deadpanned, “We f*cked you!”

Funny and sad, ‘cause it’s so true.

The Lovers, the Dreamers, Me

Paint It Black

Haven’t had any beer in over a month. I kinda miss it, actually, and the feeling of intoxication that comes with finishing several bottles. I think it has something to do with sleeping; the spinning feeling, prior to dozing off or after doing something boneheaded under the influence, is an interesting one for me. Anyway, am doing just fine without it. But I do miss it sometimes.

Nothing much lately. Same old. Waiting for some things, like Mozzie’s EP. Six songs, according to Pam. I wanna own that. It’s out soon, so yay!

I’m also on the lookout for that good-looking Marvel Legends Thor (the new Lord of Asgard version). Apparently, that’s the most sought-after figure from the set; the other characters look really unappealing (I’m looking at you, X3 Jean Grey and Juggernaut!). I’ll probably just get Thor when he reappears, and maybe Quicksilver.

Saw a few things last week. John and I attended preview screenings of Ratatouille (love it!) and Harry Potter: Order of the Phoenix (it had some nice big moments). Don’t feel like talking about them now in detail, though, but yeah, they’re both movies that kids and their parents might enjoy watching.

Briefly hung out with Benedict last Saturday. He cosplayed during the New Worlds event at Rockwell, and later won again for his now war-worn Bumblebee costume. He’s the third placer this time. His Bumblebee and transforming Brawn costumes have won two awards each at different events, and he’s been appearing in a number of shows and exhibits with them. Cool thing to see kids and similarly excited adults rush to where he and fellow Transformers cosplayers are, and have pictures taken with them.

Oh, yeah, before I forget, I had my left fingernails painted black. Not to symbolically mark any emo-whatever phase or anything. I just felt like doing it. Benedict seems kinda amused by it.

Bizarre Love Triangle

Three’s company and a crowd (pic from Yahoomovies)

“Someone once said, there’s no such thing as love, only proofs of love.’” –Isabelle

Saw Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Dreamers. What a sad, sexy film. Cineastes Theo (Louis Garrel), Isabelle (Eva Green) and Matthew (remember Michael Pitt from Dawson’s Creek?) share an apartment in France, and apart from their love for cinema, they really are fond of each other. But the thing is, Theo and Isabelle are twins, and their uncommon closeness is weirding Matthew out. Still, the siblings and their new American friend discover that their love for film and some heated debates can lead to other passionate pursuits. Erotic and masterfully shot, The Dreamers is a feast for the eyes and the mind, a film that offers challenging insights on artistry, as well as the political and social upheavals of the era.

Oh, and I love it when Isabelle touched Matthew’s “red, ripe, luscious lips” and wanted to put lipstick on ‘em, believing he’d make a pretty girl. Cute and funny.

Sometimes a Fantasy

Check out my art blog. If I haven’t posted these drawings there, I will one of these days. This illustration above was done in July 2000. The Cavalry, from “Utopia Comics,” originally drawn on 11” X 17” cartolina. It’s a pseudo-cover, and it's kind of my homage to superhero lineup change covers. I wanted to put as many of my characters on it as I could. The final roster, I think, was made up of nine typical team tokens (a few powerhouses, a reformed villain, a loose cannon, an enigma, etc.) Boy, I had a lot of time back then. It’s a double-sized issue at $1.50, so I probably pretended that it came out in the late ‘80s.

This here’s a re-imagining of the characters from Psigns. Isaac (the cryokinetic) and Hob (the, um, magic hat wielder) as grownups. Gel pen on small Bristol board, drawn last week.

Really enjoyed doing these drawings.

Madness in This Reason

Raindrops Falling From Heaven

Bought myself a new umbrella, since my last one’s leaking already. Before that, I had one that lasted me for over a decade, but it had to succumb to irreparable damage. It couldn’t weather the storms, anymore.

Weather’s matching my mood lately. I sometimes wish that I never got into some things and situations in the last three months but, well, if anything, I’m learning from them the hard way now. I feel glum and weak this past week or so, and I just have been staying too long in slumberland. But I’m doing my best to get back on track. Counting my blessings is hard, but it’s good that I can still recognize that they’re there.

Shtup the Press

After five years of writing for the paper, I finally have my official press ID. I could’ve asked for it sooner, but it didn’t occur to me to request for one until early this year, at the suggestion of my Entertainment editor. A fellow contributor already has one, and I was encouraged to have my own just in case people who need to verify my identity wish to see it, during formal coverages or specific assignments.

Most functions I’m sent to and attend are informal, but I want to avoid situations where people (publicists or such who invite people from the section) look at me suspiciously. There were some instances when I ask people for directions as I arrive at some event, and they scowl or hesitate from replying like I’m some gatecrashing riffraff. I’ve been asked in a demeaning tone, “Sino ka ba?” But, and this has happened more than once, whenever I mention the name of the broadsheet I’m representing, wow! Total personality switch, they suddenly become nice and cloyingly friendly!

Creeps. You can never get used to that. So anyway, I’m glad that I have one now. It’s not that required, usually, but it does make me feel a little reassured.

Follow His Bliss

Ryan Taylor Bliss’ cover of “I Hope That I Don’t Fall In Love With You.” Way sweet.

Fool for Love

Soundtrack of my love life, at least for the past few weeks. Narrowed it down to 24. I actually started this list for a Valentine's Day post but never finished it. Besides, it's evolved a lot since then. I think I can listen to this collection all day, if I had them all, and compiled. It’s a mix of adult contemporary, alternative, and pop tunes. I can’t really compress all those songs I love into such a list, but at this moment, I’m digging these particular ones, sighing, and am reminded why love can stop, begin again, and can’t truly be measured properly:

1. Love is Strange- Everything But The Girl
“After you’ve had it, you’ll never want to quit.”

2. I Want You- Silencers
“Well, I want to paint your picture with that great look in your eyes.”

3. I Love You- Primal Scream
“Maybe our communion shall prevail.”

4. Found- The Beloved
“Your smile is like the ocean, your kiss the seven seas.”

5. Can’t Help Falling In Love- Lick the Tins
“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?” (love this version the most 'cause it sounds innocent)

6. Show Me Heaven- Maria McKee
“I’m not denying. I’m frightened as much as you.”

7. I Need You Here- Color It Red
“Now it’s late and I feel older, having lost so much to you…”

8. Free Fallin’- Tom Petty
“I’m a bad boy, cause I don’t even miss her. I’m a bad boy for breaking her heart.”

9. The Flame- Cheap Trick
“You were the first, you’ll be the last.”

10. Endless Summer Nights- Richard Marx
“Time was all we had until the day we said goodbye.”

11. Drops of Jupiter- Train
“Did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?”

12. As Long As It Matters- Gin Blossoms
“Forget that our time is almost up.”

13. J for Jules- ‘Til Tuesday
“Someday we’ll be happy again.”

14. Life After- Isha
“I guess you have to leave, so I can live.”

15. I Will Follow You Into The Dark- Death Cab For Cutie
“Love of mine, someday you will die, but I’ll be close behind.”

16. Strong Enough- Sheryl Crow
“Lie to me, but please don’t leave.”

17. (I Can’t Seem) To Make You Mine- The Clientele
“But the crowd pulled you away, through the rhythm and the rain.”

18. In Your Eyes- Peter Gabriel
“The light, the heat, I am complete.”

19. Last Goodbye- Jeff Buckley
“Kiss me out of desire, baby, not consolation.”

20. Am I Wrong- Love Spit Love
“Goodbye, lay the blame on luck.”

21. In Demand- Texas
"You never had our love written in your plans.”

22. Crazy- Icehouse
“You’re the one sure thing when I get lost in the game.”

23. Better Love- Londonbeat
“I was driving home, the morning after with the taste of you still on my tongue.”

24. Love On A Rooftop- Desmond Child
“Whatever happened to those endless nights, when we were happy living young and foolish lives?

Troubled Cure for a Troubled Mind

Vox Du Jour

Thursday was a sapping and humbling day. Hate it. Wednesday was much, much better; I was looking for a video of the Tom Waits song, “I Hope That I Don’t Fall In Love With You” over YouTube, but I found an excellent, excellent folky rendition by a guy named Ryan Taylor Bliss instead. Am too lazy to search and link it, so look him up if you’re interested. The guy’s got a cool, calming voice; he did astounding acoustic covers of Death Cab for Cutie’s “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” and Toad the Wet Sprocket’s “Walk On The Ocean,” among other songs. Ryan Taylor Bliss! If you’re reading this after Googling your name, let me just say that you’re so damn awesome! I watched/listened to your “I Hope That I Don’t Fall In Love With you” performance thrice. Ohhh, that was beautiful, man.

Hulk Slash!

I enjoyed “Planet Hulk,” an arc that ran for about a year or so in The Incredible Hulk title. Writer Greg Pak and artist Carlo Pagulayan did well in giving Marvel’s raging behemoth a new direction, and the space fantasy saga redefined the Hulk as one of the most cunning, most driven comics characters in a while. Spoilers! I was surprised that in this storyline, the latest version of the Hulk is actually intelligent but brooding (in a way that’s almost similar to the grey incarnation). Exiled by the Illuminati (Iron Man, Mr. Fantastic, Dr. Strange, Black Bolt), he crash-lands far from his intended destination and soon becomes a savage gladiator. The Hulk and his fellow fighter-slaves, the Warbound, change the conflict-torn planet forever, leading to the next epic, World War Hulk.

The first issue of the miniseries was worth the wait, as the Hulk, now really, really mad, returns to Earth to make the Illuminati pay. Pak is good, as usual, but the art, this time by John Romita, Jr., isn’t that great, sadly. Still, the big moments finally happen, including Hulk’s meeting and subsequent punchathons with his exilers. And poor Avengers Tower! Wow, I can’t really say I’ll miss that bland headquarters, though.

I hope this doesn’t disappoint like Civil War, and that the ordinary joes won’t jump into the fray at the last possible second to show the Hulk the error of his ways.

Mayer of Angstville

Old song. Yep, he’s singing about me right now.

Not Myself
(John Mayer)

Suppose I said
I am on my best behavior
And there are times
I lose my worried mind

Would you want me when I’m not myself
Wait it out while I am someone else

Suppose I said
Colors change for no good reason
And words will go from poetry to prose
Would you want me when I’m not myself
Wait it out while I am someone else

And I, in time
Will come around
I always do for you

Suppose I said
You’re my saving grace

Long Live the Legion!

But which version? Actually, I still like the “Archie Legion” best, and I miss those characters a lot. But the Legion of Superheroes is still one of my fave teams ever, regardless of the zillion revamps or reincarnations.

But “The Lightning Saga,” which teamed the Pre-Crisis version of the 31^st century super-group with the JSA and the JLA… well, it didn’t really show them doing much. Two members were left behind in the present after their secret mission, which successfully brought back a beloved character that was lost for over a year, I think. But questions were raised that weren’t answered within the crossover. I don’t like the lack of a satisfying explanation in the end, and that “you’ll understand in time” excuse is just annoying.

Artwise, I still can’t get into Benes’ style, which looks heavily Jim Lee-esque. I don’t like that every guy has the same body type (bulky/muscular), and that all the girls look the same (but with different hairstyles). The art doesn’t make me get into the story as much as, say, Doug Mahnke’s or Brian Hitch’s style did when they served as JLA pencillers years ago.

Jesus, Mary… Chain

Another old fave. Cool that the two vocalists were alternately “talking” to each other through the stanzas. I can so feel this song right now, and I love that the entire exchange is in simple but straightforward lines.

Sometimes Always
(Jesus and Mary Chain)

I gave you all I had
I gave you good and bad
I gave but you just threw it back

I won’t get on my knees
Don’t make me do that please
I’ve been away but now I’m back

Don’t be too sure of that
What makes you sure of that
You went away, you can’t come back

I walked away from you
I hurt you through and through
Aw honey, give me one more chance

Oh, you’re a lucky son
Lucky son of a gun
You went away
You went away
You went away but now you’re back

I got down on my knees
And then I begged you, please
I’ll always need you
Take me back

Partly Metal, Partly Real

Princess Fantalian of the Metalfairies. Click on it for a bigger image. Drew her head and hair while waiting for a friend in a mall, about two weeks ago. I finished her body when I got home. It’s green gel pen ink on half a bond-sized sheet of vellum. I also drew two other characters when I stayed home early this week. Will post ‘em at my art blog, when I feel like it. Do visit.