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Ramblings
Saturday, August 13, 2005. 2:20 p.m.Webaholics Anonymous This website-building thing is so insanely addictive. Since my last rambling, I've built two more fanlistings: one for my favorite comic book writer Brian Michael Bendis and one for Grant Morrison's miniseries WE3. And you know what? I think I'm having more fun building these things than I am maintaining them. Oh, except for my Beak website. That's my baby. Though it was only the second website I built, it was (and is) the one I put the most effort into. Oh, and guess what? My mom's commissioning me to build a website for her dive tours packages for Prudential Life Travel. How awesome is that? And best of all, she doesn't want it to be bland and boring like the gazillion business websites online. I actually have permission to be fun and creative when designing the layout. So now my biggest concern is making the site cross-browser compatible. I only test my sites in Firefox and IE, and though Firefox is usually pretty good at catching incorrectly written HTML coding, there's really no guarantee that the site I build will look good on other or older browsers. It's a bit worrying, because this is going to be a business site, not a personal or fan one. On a more cheerful note, I've just returned from the ENT, who spent the better part of twenty minutes removing built-up wax and fungus from my ears. Yeah, it's really... ew. But still --- my ears are now clog-free and I can hear normally! Huzzah! I think my partial deafness was really starting to bug people. On the other hand, I've gotten pretty good at pretending to understand people even when I'm not really listening to them. I figure that's a talent that ought to come in handy sooner or later. Whee! No, I haven't gotten over my immobilizing fear of responsibility. But I have successfully converted three of my websites from HTML to the oodles more efficient PHP. So, wheeeeee! Check 'em out: PulpedFiction.com Straight Edge Sympathy for the Devil Okay, okay, so they're just about the most rudimentary PHP-powered sites ever. I don't care, I'm still insanely proud of them. Learning PHP was one of the goals I'd set for myself when I bought this web domain and wonder of wonders --- I actually did it! *throws imaginary confetti* Par-tay! Now all I have to do is learn how to use PhotoShop. Because that? I still can't do for shit. But, ah well. One thing at a time. *dances the PHP-powered conga* The One Where I'm Absolutely Screwed I've always made a habit... no, scratch that. I've made a lifelong principle of avoiding any and all kinds of responsibility. In interpersonal relationships, in my spirituality and most especially, in anything that even remotely resembles work. The only responsibilities I allow myself are those I know I can handle without breaking a sweat. But if any situation challenges me and requires actual effort on my part... hoo, boy. See Erika. See Erika run. See Erika run with her tail between her legs. Run, Erika, run. Take, if you will, two incidents that occurred this past week. Incident the First My mom's friend Alan Robles, who runs the hilariously acerbic online tabloid, Hot Manila, apparently mentioned to my mom that he'd visited my sites and liked some of my writing. (He evidently also questioned whether or not I was a Christian -- a not entirely unfair criticism considering the amount of cursing and likely blasphemous ideas found in my ramblings. Oh, and the fact that I run a fanlisting for the DC/Vertigo comic book Lucifer called Sympathy for the Devil.) In any case, my mom suggested that I contribute something to Hot Manila since the style and patently wry tone of the articles found there seemed to match my own writing. I believe my initial reaction was to silently freak out over the idea of writing something that more than a handful of people would actually read. Or to be more precise, the idea of writing something that required actual thought and actual work. And again: See Erika run. See Erika run with her tail between her legs. Run, Erika, run. Fortunately, I managed to convince my mom that anything I had to say would not be up to the standards of Tito Alan's news site. And, yes, I know that ironic self-deprecation is a way of life for me, but that I actually believe to be true. I haven't written anything meaningful and important since... oh, God, I can't even remember when. Incident the Second Earlier today, Al Harahap, Comixfan's EIC, sent me a message saying he'd noticed how intelligent and widely read I seemed to be. He then asked if I would be interested in working as an interviewer for the site. Well, as anyone who knows me can tell you, all it takes is some well-meaning flattery to get me to do anything. Anything. Just ask Ranina, who convinced me to star as the lead in her movie with just a few text messages to butter me up. And this after I swore never to work on any of her movies ever again. Good God, I'm easy. At any rate, I answered back almost immediately: yes, I'd love to become an interviewer and help the site out. As soon as I pressed the "Send" button, I knew I was going to regret it. Why? Because it violated one of the few simple rules I'd set down for myself: avoid responsibility at all costs. And now I am freaking out. Because a) having given my word, I refuse to back out. I will do this if it kills me. Which it won't, but it will worry me for quite some time. B) I haven't interviewed anyone in years. The last, I believe, was either a group of Quezon Avenue prostitutes or the secretary of the Moro National Liberation Front. That had to be at least three years ago. And c) I haven't written anything in years that wasn't a piece of fan fiction or an absolutely useless rambling. Yep. My phobia of responsibility runs so deep that the mere idea of doing an interview for a comic book fan site sends me into throes of panic and despair. I'm not ready. I can't do this. I'll screw it up badly. Any faith Al has in me is sorely misplaced and oh, my fucking God he is going to find that out for himself when he sees that I can't deliver. But here's the even crazier part: I don't think I said yes just because of the flattery or because I wanted to impress people. I think --- I may be wrong, but I think --- I may have said yes because the idea actually interested me. I ran my eye over the potential interviews that I could volunteer to do and the names that popped out at me: Brian K. Vaughan, Bill Willingham, Brian Michael Bendis... man, oh, man! How awesome would it be if I could actually be able to correspond with these guys? And that's where it gets even more terrifying for me. I can do this. I can probably even do it well. But "probably" has never, ever cut it for me. It's my way to always know how a venture of mine will end up before I even try my hand at it. If I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I'll succeed, I'll jump right in. If, being fully aware of my limitations, I know I'll fail, then I don't bother. It's a terrible work ethic, but it is also the unfortunate truth. When I'm unsure of anything --- anything I care about, at least --- I totally spaz out. And now I am absolutely screwed. Because, for the first time in a very, very long time, I will be forced to tackle a situation in which the outcome is not already known to me. An interview for a comic book fan site may be a laughably trivial thing in the grand scheme of the universe, but confronting my issues and insecurities? That makes this little doggerel a hundred times more appealing to me: See Erika. See Erika run. See Erika run with her tail between her legs. Run, Erika, run. Fantastic Four Surprise, surprise. It didn't suck. Granted, it wasn't very good either --- certainly not on a level with the X-Men movies and Spider-Man 2 --- but it was a solid, enjoyable popcorn movie. So enjoyable, in fact, that I watched it twice in a row. Chris Evans as Johnny Storm was a riot. He totally stole the show. Now maybe it's just because I've got my slash-colored glasses on 24/7, but I was getting some seriously slashy vibes between Reed and Ben. Those two lurve each other. Did you see all the manly hugging and excessive touching? And Reed's overwhelming concern for Ben when Ben couldn't get inside the space station in time? And Ben calling himself Reed's protector and stomping off like a jealous boyfriend when Reed came home to him with Sue on his arm? Ioan Gruffud and Michael Chiklis have the most amazing chemistry. It was easily ten times more potent than Ioan's chemistry with Jessica Alba. Granted, that could be because Jessica's a bad actress, but still. This movie has totally made me a Ben / Reed 'shipper. Who says m/m slash is all about the pretty? Not me! 
I wonder where I can find some good Ben / Reed slash? Oh, hell, it doesn't matter. If I can't find any, I'll just write it myself! Toodles! Ah, Blessed Tranquility I feel good. Genuinely, completely good. It feels strange, but for once, I'm not going to question it. It's rare that I ever feel so content, so I figure I better enjoy this while it lasts. Going to Hell in a Handbag is up and running again (and, oh, how I missed her while she was gone). I've said my final goodbye to the cesspool that is Geocities, and my other pet project, The Aerie, has found a good home at last. Best of all, I actually managed to start up the sites all by myself. That may not seem like a significant accomplishment to the more techno-savvy people of the world, but for someone who was totally lost in the muck and mire of her own website control panel, it's definitely something to be proud of. *pats self on back* I've believe I've earned it. In other news, the world is poorer for the death of one Ed McBain, the critically acclaimed crime novelist. It was definitely a shock for me; all my favorite authors are either alive and kicking or several decades (or centuries) dead. Perhaps I was being naïve, but it never even crossed my mind that I'd actually be around when one of those beloved authors moved from the former category to the latter. That's part of the power of a good writer, I suppose. They build worlds in my head (for Stephen King, it's the state of Maine and the lands traversed by Roland of Gilead; for Ed McBain, it's Isola, a bitch of a city that I can't help but love), and their stories keep on going even after I've closed the book. So I assume, foolishly and without thinking, that the writers will too. It's more than a pity; it's a goddamn crying shame. The best storytellers are those that never run out of stories to tell, and it makes me sad to think that some of those tales might have died with him. I suppose I should feel sadder for the death of the man and the loss of his family. But I only ever knew Ed McBain as a writer, and that's the only way I know how to grieve for him. That's better than not knowing him at all, right? Meanwhile, the country is going all to shit and terrorists are giving innocent people hell once again. And the world keeps on turning. To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due. ~Hob Gadling, The Sandman: Seasons of Mists Batman Begins Holy frack! Batman Begins was all kinds of awesome. The supporting cast was terrific (yes, even Katie Holmes didn't suck --- feel free to keel over in shock), the plot was both dark and fantastical enough to feel suitably Batman-ish, the story set up all the classic elements of the Batman mythos, and Christian Bale? Christian Bale is a freaking god. Wait, is that blasphemy? Let me rephrase. Christian Bale is freaking awesome. He's perfect as Bruce and he's even more perfect as Batman. All the previous incarnations of the Caped Crusader would cream themselves if they had to fight this Dark Knight. Also, I love me some Jim Gordon. Gary Oldman owned that role. Marry me, Gary! And Cillian Murphy (the Scarecrow) gives me the shivers --- the good, tingly kind, because the boy is so very pretty. In a creepy, psychotic way, if you know what I mean. The best part is, I got to see it before everyone else. Heehee. In sorrowful contrast, X-Men 3 is totally going to suck. I'm calling it now. The latest review of the script is just plain abysmal. Hey, if I never go to see it, will it still count as part of the X-Men franchise? Will a strange dog bite? What is the sound of one hand clapping? The utter sewage that X-Men 3 is doomed to be is making me sick to my stomach. I know the world won't end and my life will be neither better nor worse for it, but still... the franchise deserves better than to meet such an inglorious end. I've already given up on the books. I'd feel even worse if I have to write off the movies, too. Under Construction As it turns out, Nina's moving to a different server, so Going to Hell in a Handbag will be down for the rest of the month. *pouts* Fortunately, my pitas page is still up, so here's where I'll be setting up camp until the move is complete. Some of the images might not be showing up, and the CSS stylesheet is down, but this'll tide me over until then. In other news, Brett Ratner of Rush Hour fame has been brought in as the director of X-Men 3. Fuck, fuck, fuck! And if the reports for the script are to be believed, X-Men 3 is going to suck like no other comic book movie has sucked before (well, unless you count Batman and Robin and Superman 3). My beloved X-Men franchise, she is dead. *pats its mutilated corpse lovingly* There, there. You had a good two-movie run with Bryan Singer, didn't you? *sniffles* Mishmash Marvel-Lite After looking ahead at what Marvel Comics has in store for the next couple of months, I've realized that absolutely none of it interests me. Bendis and Maleev are leaving Daredevil, Beak is leaving Exiles, the writing in the new Black Panther puts me off and Nightcrawler's huge shipping delays have caused my interest in the title to dwindle. By the end of the year when the specific story arcs that interest me have ended, I'll have dropped all of these titles. It's unlikely I'll be picking up any new ones to replace them, unless it's Bendis and Maleev's new, as-of-now untitled collaboration. That means I'll have knocked down the number of ongoing Marvel titles I'm collecting to zero. (Powers doesn't count, even if it's under Marvel's Icon imprint, since it's creator-owned.) Never since I've started collecting comics has this ever happened. Well, technically it hasn't happened yet, but it is inevitable. The House of Ideas has finally grown so stale that I can't stomach reading any of their books anymore. This saddens me, because I've been a True Believer since I started picking up comics nearly twelve years ago. That's not a whole lot of time for a lot of people, but it's more than half my life. What happened to the Marvel I loved? The Marvel that gave me my beautiful, powerful, emotional Ororo and my beautiful, kind-hearted, charming Kurt? That introduced me to Grant Morrison's wacked-out ideas? That allowed strange and wonderful new characters like Barnell Bohusk to blossom? The Marvel that was willing to take a chance on unproven talents with new and different stories to tell? Their success a few years ago has made them complacent, I think. They've settled into a superhero rut and are now unwilling to think outside the box and work outside their limits. It's no wonder DC has already closed the gap between their sales. Those guys at least make an effort to turn out quality products and are thusly rewarded by loyal readership. Marvel, on the other hand, has been coasting on the goodwill of their hardcore fans for the last couple of years. And now even those fans are wising up and dropping what they don't like. I personally give it a month or two before we find out that DC, for the first time in decades, has topped Marvel in the sales charts. Where does that leave me, though? DC's superheroes don't interest me in the slightest. Only the books in their Vertigo imprint do that. I suppose that means that I'll be quitting superhero comics altogether. Again, this saddens me, though I can't really articulate why. Superhero books have been a part of my life for a while now. I hate to think that I've finally outgrown them. But I suppose it had to happen sooner or later. Superheroes, because of their need to be timeless, are never really allowed to change or grow. But people are (and hopefully do). Cunnilingus and Psychiatry Brought Us to This I just got the complete second season of the Sopranos on DVD for the surprisingly low price of 1700 pesos. My mom and I spent the whole weekend immersed in the sick, twisted, vulgar, fucked-up world of Tony Soprano and his family. We've been having a marvelous time of it, too. This is some of the best television I've ever watched. The writing, directing, acting, editing --- all of it is top-notch. And Tony himself is absolutely fascinating. He's a repulsive character on paper, but you can't help rooting for him to come out on top, anyway. Also? I heart Paulie Walnuts. I think I may have made a genuine Sopranos fan of my mom, too. I absolutely loved season one (the title above is one of my favorite quotes from that season), but for some reason Mama wasn't too impressed. She did like season two a lot, though. I think I may be able to sell her on buying the rest of the Sopranos DVDs eventually. *chortles evilly* The Shinning I also bought a DVD of The Shining. Crazy (well, crazier) Jack Nicholson is a hoot to watch. I still prefer The Simpsons Halloween Special version, though. Burns: Hmm, that's odd. Usually the blood gets off at the second floor. Willie: You've got the Shinning. Bart: You mean "Shining." Willie: Shh! You want to get sued? Now look, boy. If your Dad goes gaga, you just use that... shin of yours to call me and I'll come a-running. But don't be reading my mind between four and five. That's Willie's time! Homer: Urge to kill... fading... fading... fading --- rising! Fading... fading... The Aerie, Version 3 I think I'm getting better at this website-making thing. Behold the power of the Beak! And since I've never been one to shy away from tooting my own horn (especially when I know I've actually done well), I'm just gonna go ahead and say that I'm pretty darn impressed with my own work.  It's not jaw-dropping by any means, but it's far more visually arresting than the older versions of the site, and for my money it has a lot more personality. Plus, I did it all in one night. Go, me!
It's also worth noting that the one year anniversary of The Aerie is coming up. July 27, 2004 was the day the first (and, as far as I know, only) Beak fan site went live. Well, let's face it: Beak, as wonderful as he is, is hardly awe-inspiring. He's not a bad ass. He's not powerful. He's just not the kind of guy any person in his right mind would go and make a fan site about. And yet I am proud to have the distinction (or is it shame?) of being crazy enough to actually build a site in his honor. Barnell Bohusk is my guy, and I'm not embarrassed to admit it. Upon further consideration, it probably would have been better to put off uploading the new layout until the actual anniversary, or thereabouts. But, well, I didn't want to delay showing it off. Heehee. Knowing myself as well as I do, I probably would have tired of it before I'd even put it online. I'm disturbingly fickle that way. LOST FINALE! Holy fucking fuck. My mind, she is blown. That was seriously the best two hours of television I have ever, ever seen. *dies from the awesomeness* Off the Cuff Reaction to Episode III I've just gotten back from an advanced screening of Episode III (and by advanced, I mean two days before the movie actually premieres, so it's not really all that advanced). Anyhoo... I tried to keep an open mind like I promised myself I would. While it didn't blow me away, it was nowhere near as bad as I was expecting it to be. To be fair, though, I was expecting the absolute worst. Make of that what you will. ;) Spoilers ahead. What I liked:
What I didn't like so much: Warning: overzealous fangirl nitpicking ahead: What I absolutely hated: There are probably a million details I've missed, but what I've written above for the most part covers my initial reaction. I might have a more favorable opinion of the movie after the second or third viewing, but somehow I doubt it. You know there's something fundamentally wrong when you come away from the last Star Wars movie laughing your ass off. Fucking Deadwood There are no words. There are absolutely no words that are sufficient to praise a show that actually breaks my heart. I can shed a tear or two over a particularly sad movie, but Deadwood thus far is the only --- the only --- piece of fiction in any medium that actually has me crying and sobbing over it for twenty minutes straight. This has never ever happened to me before. Poor Martha Bullock. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose your only child, and so soon after your first husband's death. But it does make me imagine how it would feel like if I lost my mom. I can't stand the thought of it. Fucking Deadwood for making me feel this way. I don't think I can watch this show anymore. It's just too damn much. Of Canine Birthdays and Fantasy Worlds Let's have an obligatory squee over the new trailer for The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, shall we? Man, oh, man, it looks so awesome! Everything is just like I imagined it would be. Commencing squee-age... now! Thus ends the squee-age. I've noticed that they've showcased Peter more than any of the other Pevensie children. I hope that's just because he's in more of the kick ass sequences than the others (you know, what with him commanding the Narnian army and all). As much as I love Peter, I'd hate it if he stole Lucy's role as the story's chief protagonist. In other news, the new trailer for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is also out. It looks good too, though for some reason I'm not as excited about it as I am about The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Must be the immense suckage of Book 5. Turning to more personal matters, I didn't get to finish my Mother's Day story in time for Mother's Day. But I did get it started. I'm not in the Zone anymore, so it'll take more time to finish. I hope I can at least have it done before Mama's birthday in June. In the meantime, I got her an identical bookmark to replace one that Wolverine chewed up. Speaking of Wolverine, today is his 3rd birthday. Huzzah! That puts him at about twenty-five years old in dog years. My baby's all grown up. I think I'll give him Mama's ruined bookmark to finish chewing up. I just read J. Marc Schmidt's graphic novel "Egg Story." I'd recommend it to anyone and everyone, if it wasn't so damn hard to find. So if anyone wants to read it, they can just borrow my copy. Here's an online preview, and I've reproduced the synopsis below. "Growing up. Leaving home. Falling in love. Witnessing madness and murder. Becoming a ninja. This could be a story about any of us. But it isn't. It's a story about eggs. Two eggs named Five Spots and Feather liberate themselves from the fridge, only to find that freedom isn't all shopping sprees and channel-surfing. When one of their comrades cracks up, entertaining fantasies of becoming a soufflé and ending it all on the kitchen floor, how can the eggs find meaning in life? For Feather, the answer is simple. He becomes a ninja." See, how can you not automatically like a story about a ninja egg? I knew from the moment I read the synopsis I was going to love this book, and I was not disappointed. Everyone should read this, even people who aren't fans of the comic book medium. Or especially people who aren't fans of the comic book medium. This could be just the thing that turns you on to comics. One of my favorite moments has to be when the eggs manage to pop open the top of their carton, only to find themselves face to face with a frozen chicken. It's so hilariously surreal, and just a little bit darker than the concept of the story would have you believe. Ladies and gentlemen, this is pop culture at its finest. Here's Where Having No Life Gets You Into Trouble About a week ago, one of the administrators at Comixfan invited me to apply to the staff for a moderator position. I figured, why the hell not? I have, sadly, copious amounts of time to waste --- why not devote them to an online community I've been a part of for three years? So I sent in my application and was officially made a moderator today. I logged on to the forums and there appeared before me literally dozens of moderator / thread / forum tools that I have no idea how to use. And I suddenly realized that I am way in over my head. Aside from being out of my depth when it comes to internet technology, there's also the issue of actually moderating a very large and busy message board. Now, I'm fairly certain I can be counted on for good judgment. I've been on these boards for a while now, so I have a pretty good idea of how things work. It's just that I've seen levelheaded moderators lose their shit when dealing with especially offensive posters. I've seen flame wars that get so ugly they aren't amusing anymore (and yes, I often chuckle when I see two posters slinging mud at each other). And when things get heated, the people the posters usually turn against are the mods. And it's not like they can back out and hide in a corner, because their job is to handle situations like these. They're obligated to be in the thick of things, to be on the front lines, so to speak. And I know for a fact that a lot of promising online friendships have been burned as a result of these spats. Now I, through my own damn choice, am now one of them. I'm one of those guys. *smacks palm against face* I'm gonna have a hell of a time learning the ropes, I think. At the very least, I should probably be ready for some interesting times. But I can't help thinking I never would have applied to be a moderator if I had some kind of social life. *smacks palm against face again* Turning aside from that subject for now... three days ago, just when I was dropping off to sleep, I had a great idea for a story I could write my mom for Mother's Day. Anyway, I got up, wrote an outline for the story and was generally feeling pleased with myself, since it's been such a long time since any story has come into my head fully formed, with a beginning, a middle, an end and specific lines that I wanted to use. I even had a title for it --- and that's a pretty big deal, considering I suck at coming up with titles. I was, for the first time in a long time, in The Zone. The next day, I went about my business, picked up my comics and sat down to write my story. What came out in place of my Mother's Day story was adult fan fiction concerning the 32nd issue of Y: The Last Man, which I had just read earlier that day. (I refer you to the rambling below.) *smacks palm against face again, again* Curse you, Y: The Last Maaaaaaaan! I'm hoping all isn't lost. Though I wasted my time in the Zone writing smutty fan fic (which turned out okay, all things considered), I'm hoping to get back into it sometime soon. I've got my outline and my memories, after all. Hopefully that's enough to get me started. It'd be nice to be able to give my mom something besides a hug on Mother's Day. Greeting cards are so passé. And by passé I mean so cheap even I wouldn't stoop to that level. The Dark Side Once you go slash, you never go back. Isn't that the old saying? Well, if it isn't, it should be. Yep. I've done it. I've written slash. Femslash, since I'm not all that familiar with the mechanics of M/M slash. I won't post a link here in case some innocent kid should wander by, but everyone who knows where my fan fiction site is can read it there. Toodles! |
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