beautiful sad

Someone else's world goes by
As my train runs through this night
Someone else's rain comes down
But no rain can touch me now

Smoke and mirrors
Special effects
A little fear, a little sex
That's all love is
Behind the tears
Smoke and mirrors

We were foolish, you and I
But there's no reason to cry
We put on a lovely show
But that's all. I had to go

Smoke and mirrors
Special effects
A little fear, a little sex
That's all love is
Behind the tears
Smoke and mirrors

I don't know the stations' names
I'll spend my life on this train

Smoke and mirrors (Fumée et miroirs)
Special effects (Effets speciaux)
A little fear (un peu de peur)
A little sex (un peu de sexe)
That's all love is (sous les lârmes)
Behind the tears (L'amour n'est que sa)
Smoke and mirrors (De la fumée et des miroirs)

scratching of backs

My recent review of Von Allan's The Road To God Knows..." was just quoted on a Canadian radio interview that Von Allan gave.

Hear the 14 or so minute piece here, with an excellent summation of how the medium works from Von Allan.
And listen for jalopy about two-thirds of the way through!

The World Of A Wayward Artist

Sandy Plunkett is one of my favorite artists, in or out of comic books. A self-taught illustrator who has worked an array of assignments for a variety of publishers over the past few decades, Sandy can do no wrong. He has been working on a sketchbook collection, full of powerful images and experimentations from his career thus far, which will finally be released in April of next year.
And this new vid is a heckuva teaser for what to expect.

VaVaVaVoom!

VaVaVaVoom! #3
Created, Written & Edited by Paul Monsky
Illustrated by just about everyone
Published by Palisades Press

I already reviewed the first two issues of this series here: http://nilskidoo.blogspot.com/2009/01/vavavavoom.html
And I must say this is a fun book. Monsky knows how to package a good comic. The premise of VaVaVaVoom! (love that title) is essentially an anthology of multiple genres and serialized tales, all of which have a healthy, tongue in cheek dosage of cheesecake. Nothing pornographic, just some harmless softcore appreciation for that which makes this strange life worth living, and enjoying. However, this is by no means a mere pinup book. Monsky obviously works closely with his artists, choosing ones with the right strengths and then fully playing into those same strengths with stories of heroines willfully capable of conquering any and all challenges thrown their way. While the characters may be on the supple and savory side, they are very much empowered.

The first tale is "Monsters!", illustrated by Jeff Austin. Lieutenant Ann Li finds herself in the role of sole survivor on a spacecraft where a vampiric entity is desperate to strike a bargain with her. Despite diminishing supplies and a hopeless situation, she does not give in. Then she crashes on a hostile and very unterrestrial planet and things get really interesting. Austin channels some Dave Stevens here, and boy is he a natural for science fiction!

In "Predator and Prey", illustrated by Rob Jones and Robert Beachler, Alina Aguilar survives the jungles of South America only to be chased by a lion. A lion? Maybe a pet of the local drug czar? What has our favorite adventuring Botanist gotten herself into? This is more experimental work from what I've seen of Jones' stuff before. He is playing with shapes and forms and simplicity, and it looks quite nice, maybe a bit like an uncluttered but less idealized Chaykin.

Ed Coutts draws what's possibly my favorite story in the book, "It's Only Smoke And Mirrors", featuring secretary turned private eye Jenn Delora in the wrap up to her time travel yarn. Stolen away into yesteryear by a crooked stage magician, Jenn fends off pirates before landing in the not too distant future. And she learns that sometimes, closure is absolutely worth waiting for. Very detailed renderings from Coutts, who also painted the cover for the iss, and he must have worked from some photo reference, as this lady hero is in fact styled after a living, breathing person.

"Taryn" is a tale of barbarian fantasy, with the title character risking everything to battle a cruel wizard over the murder of her friend. Atula Siriwardane turns in another stark, black and white effort that at times looks like a cleaner John Buscema style. Why is this guy's name not on more books?

And the last story, "Land Of The Giants", Lieutenant Ann Li returns...sort of, as she has been subjected to a tear in the fabric of space-time, thereby launching a series of versions of herself into a plethora of divergent realities. The art from Bill Marimon is a mix of styles, from sketchy lines for the figures themselves to possibly computer-generated backdrops for the spaceship and alien scenery. I don't really know how he drew it, but the end result is great, carrying an EC Comics mood rather well. Actually, I'd say that this is even better than his work for DC way back when.

Sound like a crazy mix? Missing from this issue was the pulpish Ace, but then certain adpieces in the book hint allusively to possible spinoff books in times to come for a number of the characters thus far introduced. I hope so, as there are so many wonderful precepts implored in VaVaVaVoom! and so many great artistic voices, that I'd like to see more breathing room all around. But don't get me wrong though- I do love anthologies, especially when done right.
And this one most assuredly is.

http://vavavavoomonline.com

Hercules 4

Hercules: The Knives Of Kush #4 (of 5)
Written by Steve Moore
Illustrated by Cris Bolson & Manuel and Leonardo Silva
Lettered by Todd Klein
Coloured by Doug Sirois, Cliff Cramp, & Steve Firchow
Edited by Renae Geerlings
Character (& Logo) designed by Jim freaking Steranko
Published by Radical
Covers by Langley & Targete

As Egypt falls into an all-out civil war between Pharaoh Seti II and his upstart brother Amenmessu (who is aided in his thirst for power by the mysterious assassins guild of the Knives of Kush), Hercules and company are doing their best to help the Pharaoh retain control. After the warpath venture of last issue, Hercules and the other victors return to Memphis, while crafty Autolycus and sensible Iolaus sneak into the stronghold at Thebes on a covert spy mission, where they find themselves neck deep in a good old-fashioned orgy.
Yes, a drunken revelry of potions and spirits, barely-clad women, and animals. Sexual tensions run amok as they learn a startling secret about the sorcerous head of the Knives of Kush, prompting the two heroes to flee back to share the information with Hercules and the Pharaoh in hopes of turning the tide at last.
Steve Moore is nearing the end of an incredible take on an iconic character here. Honestly, when most people hear the name Hercules nowadays, they immediately think of the intelligence-insulting syndicated television series of the 90's from the otherwise great Renaissance Pictures, or of the tired, stuck in the past and borderline spoof Marvel character. This is something far more interesting, something historically accurate enough in research as to tell an action adventure tale without breaching too far into the fantastic or mythological. This is a world where sex and politics admittedly go hand in hand, and where even heroic warriors might cut throats to serve the perceived greater good. Moore's Hercules is not as grim and silent as someone like the comparable Conan, in fact he is sharp enough to play convincingly the role of field tactician, as he does later in this issue, as a massive battle explodes with all sides of the struggle fully entrenched in the bloody spectacle of warfare. And, there is finally a point where the claimed birthright of Hercules comes into play, making for a well-conducted sequence of raw power.

Illustrated well by Bolson, who received some support in this issue although the transition was hard to spot directly. I wonder if he did the layouts for the pages he did not finish himself. And the colouring again, is a great highpoint for the series, as Sirois paints each frame with so much life and accomplishes so without resorting to hues from the more extreme ends of the spectrum. Everything is vivid, while remaining real in composure, in feeling. Very pretty, full bleed pages.

With one chapter left to go, iss four of Hercules: The Knives Of Kush is loaded with an imaginative story of bloodshed and cults and nefarious traitors, and artwork that reads like absolute eyecandy.
Hercules: The Knives Of Kush is one of the better books right now from the good people of Radical, and I hope this entire creative team is given more work soon, preferably on the same book- whether a new Hercules mini or something else entirely. A world of talent and without the undeservedly excessive hype given to certain other creators these days.
For fans of sword and sorcery fantasy, gory barbarian combat, and somewhat historically-enthused action and adventure with suggestions of comedic nuance and sexual innuendos, this is your stout cup of mead.

http://www.radicalcomics.com/

the irreverence deity

She is smiling.
Today is Alan Moore's birthday. Moore is undeniably one of my seven holy idols, and he is also a new grandpa. With his projects past, present, and future hitting the myriad of media sites of late, this is a positive enough day for fans like moi.

To make matters even more curiouser, I just received the callback for a new position with a local security firm, meaning that I am apparently employed once more, thankfully. Orientation, uniform fittings and a cutting of my lion's mane will dominate the next couple of days, and by the great Coyote am I ready to get my hands dirty again.

Work on my stories are coming along well enough, but starting to feel the squeeze of soon to be looming deadlines. My confidence is rock, however.

Let's dance.

comicspace

I just killed my account there, after three years, three galleries of my old stabs at art, 355 "friends" and over a hundred bulletins.
The place is dead. So many clueless folks (read: starving artists) trying to sell their wares to all the other clueless folks (read: starving artists) therein. Everyone broke. So many dreamers, unwilling or unable to put any degree of thought into what they do, what they want.
I have known persons there who have jumped through circles, getting locked from their own accounts and begging to deaf ears for assistance, meanwhile spammers are invading the site ad nauseum.

Another potential landscape, ruined by lethargy. Seeing too much of that sort of thing, everywhere. Easier for me to just pull in my reins, further compartmentalize, and save my dreams for something worthy of my time.

The Road To God Knows...

The Road To God Knows...
Written & Illustrated by Von Allan
Edited by Sam Boswell
Published by Von Allan Studio

This excellent new and original graphic novel by the Canuck artist Von Allan, The Road To God Knows... is astoundingly poignant. And anyone familiar with my reviews knows that "poignant" is not a descriptive term I freely employ. But I was so thoroughly pulled into this story of young and gawky teenager Marie and her complicated relationship with her mother, Betty, that I read the work in one sitting and found myself thinking over its implications for a length of time afterwords. Such envelopment is for me, a true accomplishment.

The story opens with Marie and her mother returning home from the hospital, where the mother had just been discharged after a stay that concerned certain emotional problems. In true slice of life fashion, we learn so much about Marie's lonely world, stuck in the middle of her separated parents while failing to find acceptance at school. Her salvation comes through her budding friendship with a neighbor girl, the two embarking on a money-from-excessive-chores quest for the sole purpose of purchasing tickets to a rare but upcoming pro wrestling exhibition. Marie, awkwardly finding some levels of solace in the fandom hobby. Her interests in the pseudo-sport of professional wrestling, as well as in science fiction, all serve as distraction for the girl, desperate for an escape from the growing problematics of dealing with the psychologically damaged Betty. Betty means as well as any otherwise loving parent, but with the painfully realistic difficulties of struggling for control under the weight of Schizophrenia are seemingly beyond her own power, much less the coping abilities of her teenage daughter- who is already stuck in an embarrassing and frustrating age group. No easy solutions, and no outlets, beyond just silently going on.
This is indeed a very touching, very dramatic tale. Von Allan's dialogue is never at all unrealistic, and the everyday characters presented are fully-formed enough to cause the reader to wonder at what persons may have inspired such situational drama, such quietly desperate burdens. This is the kind of story that wonderfully, moodily, is all too real. Such a rich and honest portrayal of mental illness and the effects such can have on the many persons stuck in the tortured position of loving and/or living with the inflicted.
And the art is absolutely as effective, from smart page constructions sporting fluid faces and gestures to an appropriate pacing that intuitively slows down the camera whenever a forced introspection is dutifully beckoned from the story itself. This movie is shot in real time, with all of the world of nuances that the unbiased camera is always eager and willing to capture, beit for the amusement or judgement, of others. while the overall narrative is a sea of calm before the storm sensation, the few moments of violent action are called into vivid imagining with all the more clarity. And shock, like with ripples in the stillness of waters.

A fantastic and self-aware work, I am thankful in my own way to have come across it. Available through Von Allan's website as a free, downloadable pdf copy, as well as through the Amazons, I advise against going for the computer screen version alone however, as digesting a wholeheartedly brilliant book such as this will fully compel you to want to support the work more viscerally.
Most definitely one of the finest graphic novels of the year, I think.

http://www.vonallan.com

Duality and Consalamentum

I have received some remarks lately via email questioning the wisdom behind keeping this here pseudo-illustrious blogger/blogspot as a continuing professional effort while also including posts of an obviously more personal nature in the mix as well.

The way I see it, is that my jalopy is all-inclusive. I hide nothing, neither from friends, collaborators, or signers of cheques. I see no reason, feel no impulse, for two-sided intent where regards anything under the blinding sun. By my own interpretations of Objectivism, the disinterest in adhering to any and all dualities is a precept of the most common order. Loving what you do becomes naturally its own emphasis, renumeration or none. If you do not love what you do, then why do it? Why be less than your aim? And why hide behind the ongoing and tiresome sales pitch that is modern Western living?

Am I manic-depressive? Schizophrenic? Individualistic? Jokingly, I once told friends that I would consider myself a nihilist, if not for my own disbelief in labels.

Meanwhile, persons who conceal themselves disgust me greatly. Denial of self is worse than sin.

Non serviam

A good day. A better/bitter person.

The folks behind Dimestore Productions and the Self-Publisher's Association are soon to relaunch their magazine, Self-Publishers!, and I am elated to announce that I will be reviewing and writing for it. So keep the reviewables coming!

I may well have found a new day job, working security once again. I expect to receive final word in the next few days, and zounds do I need it like a heroin junkie's fix of ze horse. If she pans out...then next stop, a place to live.

On a bad note, a good friend of mine lost his mother yesterday. Shite like this happening to salt of the earth people...it really keeps everything in perspective. Having lost my entire family over these madcap years, the only possible words I can offer to those who suffer such tragedy, is to always remember the future. No matter what, do not let the past, or the present, enslave you. Non serviam, and remember the future. Remember every single blessed thing that could/should/would happen, someday. Let the possibilities and potentialities pull you on, when everything else seems hellbound determined in holding you back, holding you down. The future is big enough for anything, for everything.

All else is cannon fodder.

observances from six feet down and out

It is insanity, the power instilled by the faith of a good woman.

transmogrified

Bad days.
So many writing gigs and obligations. Finding a balance for it all amidst the frustrations of being awkwardly homeless and gainlessly unemployed. Sniffing out oddjobs, selling off my possessions for cash on the barrel head. Lessons in humility never cease.
I have two stories that I absolutely must knock out before this month is through. I also need to find another place to store what's left of my worldly belongings in the same timeframe, as the Leistens are increasingly too fucking insane and as spoiled as most amerikkkans to wish to inconvenience them any longer, if at all. They, being my prime friends of recent months, holding me up steadfastly for the ever-oncoming next round of fisticuffs against the manic-depressive whims of fate'd chance.
Yangs and Yins. My creative world is blossoming, with that irreal future looking brighter than golden day's light. And then the whole bit of "where do I sleep tonight?" distracting me, calling for all of my waking time and patience.

Like the sadomasochistic Fool, my candle is not yet burnt.

closed on account of rabies

This blogger/blogspot is hereby closed for the foreseeable future. All of my writing obligations are also shelved indefinitely.

Any objections, feel free to fucking burn.


must shift the paradigm...

There a Robot Mechanic in the house?

Rob Bot: Robot Mechanic Halloween Special
Created by Jason May
Written by Steven Withrow, Shawn Granger, & Joe Caramagna
Illustrated & Lettered by Jason May

Rob Bot is not your run of the mill mechanic. He knows robots, he lives and breathes robots, and can make robots out of just about anything. Serving all robot repair needs in his nondescript futuristic city, Rob Bot is a solitaire man with a purpose. The creation of real life inventive maestro Jason May, this Halloween one-shot should do well to introduce many folks to the strange, strange world of robotic maintenance.

The first of three tales is Rob Bot's Midnight Visitor, authored by Steven Withrow. A brief, but expressively moody piece with a lyrical tone. Even in a setting as objective as a mechanic's shoppe metaphor can find its place, in this case with the spirit of Halloween officially knocking at the door.

In the second story, Shawn Granger's piece titled The Monster In My Bot, we get a plot that would've fit in to Serling's original Twilight Zone just fine. An old widow seems to have a haunted robotic servant, but is such a thing even possible? A nice twist, and maybe an Aesopian example of how little things can sometimes carry great big meanings.

The third and longest tale is Joe Caramagna's somewhat sentimental The Trick's The Treat, with Mister Bot's robotic assistant Reggie being the focal point. Some dastardly, headless thing comes along on its demonic horse and makes away with poor robot Reggie's head. And what does Rob Bot do in turn, for his friend? In addition to some good olde-fashioned jetpack action, we learn about Reggie's origin. A nice testament again, of how anything can have spirit, from people to holidays to gear-heavy mechanized automatons.

May has something here. He is known already in some circles for his imaginative robot illustrations (and check his site for the crazy-cool cigar box geetars he makes as well!), but Rob Bot is a fun premise that could go in so many different and wonderful directions. Sharp but reader-friendly subject matter told with black and white, kinda Mignola-esque art. This is original, this is imaginative, this is just plain fun.
Check it out.

http://www.jasonmay.com

Chaos Campus 9

Chaos Campus #9
Created, Written & Lettered by B. Alex Thompson
Illustrated by Caio Majado
Post-Scripting & Polish by John Ward
Published by Approbation Comics

The latest iss of Chaos Campus: Sorority Girls Vs. Zombies or, "Nihilism Cubed" has our heroic and busty threesome of Jaime, Brittany, and an at last non-possessed Paige stuck in some manner of demonic nether-realm. The kicker? They must literally fight their way through a series of levels pulled from the Golden Age of video games. Really.

B. Alex Thompson pulls out some wicked nostalgia in this tale, as the ladies are subject to the games of a Cenobite-esque big bad by the name of Nihilism. Possibly pulling the colourful game worlds from the memories of the girls themselves, we are exposed as readers to iconic puzzle-solving platforms and adventure boards galore as the Apartment 3-G 2.0 team supreme maintain their cool and keep their wit, and all with the still lurking menacing threats of serial killer Kurtis Kasey, the demonic pleather-head Winky, and the expected legions of hungry, hungry undead. This might just be the most well-rounded and solid issue of the series yet.
A big part of this is the wonderful art. Majado handles full chores for cover and interiors, homaging the living hell Mike Wieringo in animated spectacle, and rarely have the Sorority vixens looked better, or more consistent! Even following through with small gestures from previous stories, like Brittany's nervous need to constantly grope her own boobage. Little things like that add a "one universe" feel to the work, even with an ever-changing creative roster. Really pretty pages, lots of tremendous energy. I would not mind at all seeing this kid tackle another issue, and soon.

And as the story ends on a note torn from one of the greatest B-movies never made, the future of this series just looks better and better. However, considering that by now, all of the friends and family of Paige, Brittany, and Jaime are likely long since dead and zombified, if not just eaten. The darker aspects of the Chais Campus premise never seem to stray too far though, in spite of the comical verbiage unbounded. Great wrap to a great iss of a great series.

www.chaoscampus.com

Detectives In Space!

Mr. Phelps: Space Detective #'s 1-3
Created & Written by Shawn Granger
Illustrated by Jason May
Lettering by Jamal Walton & Ian Sharman
Colouring by Ray Dillon
Published by King Tractor Press

"I'm always trying to dodge my past, but you can't. The best thing you can do in a situation like that is listen, see what your past wants, and then punch 'em in the face."

That bit of dialogue from the first iss is a great indicator of the level of character this series has between its covers. The Mr. Phelps in question fits well into the "Marv" archetype (presuming it's safe to call that an archetype just yet), an aged and toughened space detective who might not always be opposed to throwing the first punch, but is indeed smarter than he comes off. Imagine the Goon, only troubleshooting in futuristic outer space instead of stuck in a perpetual Hallowe'en.

Mr. Phelps and his feline partner in crime Kit Kat kickstart the story in being attacked by ships from the Syndicate, who seem to want something Phelps has, and bad. They pursue him to a nearby planet, where Phelps and Kat throw them off of their trail only to be pulled into an entirely different adventure along the way. And so it goes. The pair are pulled from one mystery to another, with barely a chance to catch their collective breath, providing for a really fun and fast-paced story. Sci-fi fans who still miss the wit of Firefly would find an outlet here, as the dialogue stays in the realm of sarcastic by way of borderline absurdist. Very fine, and with tons of action pulling the characters from ship to ship and world to world and a big fat mystery bombshell dropped on the last page of iss 3. Hopefully, this is by no means whatsoever the end of this tale.
The art is handled ably well by May, whose Guy Davis-like linework is very easy on the eyes. Great expressions, and some exciting scenic compositions. I especially dug how the cover for each issue was literally the first panel for that particular chapter. Nice work.

This is a science fiction comic book with loads of action and adventure, plenty of tasty humor, and characters who really grow on you, even after just a few issues of story. Is Mr. Phelps: Space Detective rocket science? No, but it is a brightly dynamic, comical and imaginative little read, and well worth the time. You can find the books either through the King Tractor website or through DriveThruComics.com, and please do. Don't let this be one of those oh so many overlooked gems from the world of small press, because it really is.
And to help further prove its readability, I end this review here with another true gemstone sampling of a line from the books:

"If god wanted robots then toasters would talk."

http://www.kingtractorpress.com

resolute and illicit

My thoughts on creative writing never really change. Finding the time and means necessary are another matter entirely though.
I never stop writing, whether I am otherwise reading anything or not, whether I have a muse or not, whether there is aim to my shot or not. Generally, my efforts are confined to my head. I may test ideas, from full-blown scenarios to random pieces of dialogue, with the people around me at any given moment. Lately however, as I am spending the bulk of my waking hours in the pursuit of respectable employ, as well as a place to live, finding the appropriate windows to actually scribble or type up my progress is as random and unpredictable as anal sex with an Egyptian goddess. Just doesn't happen often enough.
And among my current writing projects are things that do call for my full attention, from very elaborate research to the constant rewrites of insanely perfectionistic self-edits. I want each piece to not only fit a greater puzzle of a whole, but to individually be as near what I see in my own mind's eye as feasibly possible. Fleshing in the bones of the skeleton is a seemingly neverending process. Don't get me wrong, as I absolutely love this. The effort, the obsession, everything.
But while my days now limit and weigh in on how my time is spent, I only wish I had the resources to give these metaphorical children all they truly deserve. Instead, I have to wait for the right timeframes to stab out what I can, while the rest of my time (waking and dreaming) is occupied primarily with endeavors that are still forming themselves, still growing their own skeletons with which I can later clothe in my whim and fancy.
And I never write for others. I have always tried to just expel the ideas, just to see them on paper, or the screen of my dying laptop computer. Sometimes they are the kind of stories that I would personally want to read elsewhere, sometimes they are stories I wish existed already in some form or other. Sometimes I have no earthly explanation whatsoever, for either their origins or intent. Yet, as a creator, and whether any of my words should ever find an audience or not, as a creator I believe that each word I smith should be its very best.

Or else why even bother?

Chaos Campus 8

Chaos Campus #8
Created, Written & Lettered by B. Alex Thompson
Illustrated by Daniel Fitz
Coloured by Schimerys Baal
Post-Scripting & Polish by John Ward
Published by Approbation Comics

In this iss of Chaos Campus: Sorority Girls Vs. Zombies (or part two of "Bites Of Sin"), after the heroine trio of Jaime, Paige, and Brittany dealt with the mixed threats of the US Army, the slasher Kurtis Kasey's return, and an honest to god demon last issue, they now must face a possessed and suddenly gothic Paige (as sampled on the great Quinton Bedwell cover). Skintight black leather, people!

B. Alex Thompson pulls us straight into the story, with Paige going dark and the demon now her lapdog, what can Jaime and Brittany possibly do to save their friend? But what about the hulking Kurtis Kasey, and why is Brittany so quick to forget how he murdered some of their friends just a couple of issues earlier? He does seem to be following them, which is an interesting subplot- the hunter and prey scenario. So Paige teleports everyone away to a stadium filled with zombies for a knockdown dragout brawl. Does it turn into a dance competition? Can anyone figure out the (Barker by way of Rubiks) puzzle box? Thompson's dialogue of Paige verbally berating Jaime was especially nice, and brutally honest.
Fitz's art jumps a bit compared to the last issue, his confidence with these characters and their world of anything goes oh crap there's zombies livelihood increasing noticeably. Still kinda sparse on details and backgrounds, but there was clearly much to be had fun with in this story, and it does show.

Another solid issue, with more tidbits of backstory tossed in for seasoning, and I am left a happy camper. If you like B-movies, "T and A" visuals with tongue in cheek dialogue, and nightmarish scenarios kept in check by popular culture references galore, then read this comic book. How many other series on indyplanet have lasted this long? There is a damn good reason for that. See for yourself why.

www.chaoscampus.com

Venger

Venger: Dead Man Rising #1
Created & Written by Matthew Spatola
Illustrated & Lettered by Jason Ossman
Coloured by John D. West
Published by Ronin Studios

In this first chapter of an ongoing series, we see a city panicked by a rapidly rising crime rate and the police force both distracted and hopeless to do much about it. But all of this has happened before, and one frustrated old man remembers everything.

Venger: Dead Man Rising is Spatola's story of a hero whose age is catching up with him, even as violent threats rise anew. His grandson Michael is a cop, but just does not believe the stories, the warnings his grandfather tells. Despite an increasing murder rate, the police forces are otherwise tied up with an impending trial involving one of the city's more notorious criminals. Much of the narrative is told through news reports and police dispatches, making for a myriad feel of a whirlwind gathering pace. We have a small core cast thus far, but much thought is given to characterization. Some directions are made obvious, insofar as where the story may be headed, but there is yet a level of suspense to the insinuations that all of the many problems are indeed somehow connected. Action-adventure with a healthy dose of mystery, and glimpses of pulp to the backstory all make for a nice read.
Ossman's art is really nice as well. A touch of both Frank Miller and Jim Lee with a strong mood for things anime and manga. The eyes of his characters look wistful, for the better times from before, for lives less complicated. While the action sequences remind me of early Image comics, the story still gets told, progressing better through scenes that allow him to display more emotion than run of the mill violence. And West's greytones give every image a sense of introspection, adding to the feel of Venger's world, his city.

Venger is about second chances, about renewal, and about passing on the torch. But moreso, I think it concerns secrets from the past storming up to make themselves brutally known in the here and now. Not at all a bad first iss by my standards. I gather the series and premise have progressed a bit as of the time of my review, so I suggest those interested in vigilante drama ought to check this out.
Possibly the very best from Ronin from what I've seen.

www.ronin-studios.com

strangling of the collar blue

There is no job market in Louisville, Kentucky.

In three days it will have been four months since I parted with my Hotel Detective gig. In the time since, I have picked up a small number of oddjobs, from working a Disney train to pitching in at a pawnshop, though not being paid enough to save anything.
Businesses in general are not hiring. They are laying people off, and beginning to keep shorter hours of operation, if not closing up shop altogether. To see all of the "for sale/lease" signs up on virtually every urban street, on so many different storefronts...is ironic, as it was just a few years ago when Louisville elected itself the new nickname of "Possibility City".
Now I actually have an impressive resume, taking some measure of pride in being "Jack of all trades, master of none", and I have consistently aimed low in my pursuits, as writing is honestly the only thing left in the world I feel I can truthfully devote myself to anymore. But I am getting no takers, in spite of having applied to dozens of different places. In fact, I am currently homeless and gainlessly unemployed, almost entirely out of money, food, and cigs. What belongings I have left are in storage at a friend's garage, while I swim from couch to couch and sometimes the old railroad tracks. Yesterday I sold a bunch of dvd's so that I would just barely have even the busfare for prospective job interviews.
Times are grim, and downright ugly.
Thusly, anybody who says the economy is on the upswing is miserably deluded, in my humble opinion. In fact, I believe the bible belt of America is hipdeep in a true Great Depression.
While I am in the strange position of having to turn down some writing opportunities for lack of time, I am not generating any traditional income, and I have seen time and again how much more crafty I can be compared to many of my fellow taxpayers. If I am having such fun, then I know damn well that many, many others are having an even worse time of it.

Thankfully, the ever-present option of suicide gets me through my days.

eighty-two

Happy Birthday, Steve Ditko!

Family Bones

Family Bones #'s 1-5
Written & Edited by Shawn Granger
Illustrated by
iss 1: Dan Howard, Orlando Baez, Ken Landgraf, & Dimitar Bochukov
iss 2: Benito Olea Bellido & Dimitar Bochukov
iss 3: Kyle Strahm, Mannie Abeleda, & Dimitar Bochukov
iss 4: Kerem Beyit, Pablo Agustin Lordi, & Dimitar Bochukov
iss 5: Dimitar Bochukov, Pablo Agustin Lordi, & Jeff Knooren
Lettering by Richard Nelson
Designed by Angel Sainz
Published by King Tractor Press

Ray and his wife Faye Copeland were real-life serial killers, quietly taking out a number of homeless men on their Midwestern farm for years before eventually being sentenced with death penalties themselves.

With Family Bones, series scribe Shawn Granger writes about this macabre old couple through the fictional eyes of the troubled teen, Sean. Sean had the misfortune of being bounced around a few of his relatives before landing hard at the Copeland's residence, where he is abused from day one on. Adapting to country living from city living can be enough of a fish out of water yarn, but the grueling workload immediately forced upon the boy by the bigoted Ray does not make the transition any easier.
Sean is a good kid though, really only protesting as much as anybody of that age group. He tries to comply, tries to find a place for himself, even as he and his new and only friend- the farm girl next door named Wendy- are pulled deeper and deeper into the illegal activities of Ray and Faye and the growing mystery of it all. Having to learn hard life lessons is one thing, but being punched around is an entirely different coming of age story.
There are some very stoic moments to this tale, prompting this reader to wonder how much of the narrative may be autobiographical on Granger's part. Despite the violence and cruelty of some of the scenes, the overall comic does read in its own way as a sort of love letter to Midwest livelihood and sensibilities. Nature itself is an overpowering theme here, with Sean's flood of new experiences and surroundings hitting his life as though his summer were being spent on an alien world. Aside from the always pleasantly-drawn Wendy, the people who inhabit this story seem to me to present the worst of small town America, while the nature sequences, the animals and quieter moments represent the very best of small town America. This is not a rustic, "man versus nature" story, this is man finding the strength to survive his life through nature- or rather, the calming distractions and reflections that the natural world can allow when you give it the chance. Except this teenager Sean is stuck in the middle of something with very few cards in his favor.
There are a variety of artists who have worked on this comic book thus far, with attractive covers in particular. The interiors are all in black and white, and the story is given as much breathing room as it deserves throughout. The oppressive and suffocating air of the farm house is present no matter who is drawing the pages, which speaks well for the skills of the book's writer and editor. And though much of the interior art was similar enough from issue to issue, personally I felt that Bellido's chapter was the most accomplished, most stylish.

This is an interesting premise for a comic, especially with one foot being so planted in reality. Issues can be found through the King Tractor website or through DriveThruComics.com. I do recommend Family Bones, and hope enough interest remains generated so that we get to see just exactly how young Sean might possibly survive living under the same roof as the folks who would later become the oldest couple ever sentenced to death row in the United States.


http://www.kingtractorfilms.com

accent'd

Just got some great news from the good Dave West, co-publisher of Accent UK. Their most recent book, the Whatever Happened To The World's Fastest Man? graphic novella, has been picked up by the limey bastiches at Diamond. This is a big deal, because with Diamond's ridiculous quotas nowadays, international distribution has been hit hard for even the better of the foreign publishers- like Accent UK, who have yet to produce a lackluster book.
Yes, I may have a mini-quote on the back cover, but I honestly and wholeheartedly loved the book even beforehand. As such, order info for those interested...

November PREVIEWS ... the order code is NOV09 0580 (page 178)

Congratulations to writer Dave West, artist Marleen Lowe, designer Andy Bloor, and editor Colin Mathieson!

http://www.accentukcomics.com/

Hallow's

So there was a costume party at the Leisten residence last night.
Largely from my own efforts, there were more than a couple of local comic book guys present, and we had a blast. B. Alex Thompson, Dave Tuney, Kevin Townsend, Len Wallace and the understated Peter Palmiotti. Girls using the night as an excuse to wear barely-there skirts. Rum punch. And rum punching all of us. Gangbanging Left For Dead. Sharing funny book industry stories.
Originally I had planned on going as Alan Moore (I have the accent down like stone immaculate) but wound up as Ultimate Rorschach, which I realized towards the end of the evening (read: 4am) I actually looked quite a bit like the David Cronenberg character from Nightbreed. Not a damn thing wrong with that.
Amidst the homeless/unemployed clusterfuck trappings, the unceasing toyings with suicidal tendencies, the night was a series of welcome occurrences.