He's as mad as he thinks you need him to be. The more nervous you are, the madder he gets. He's trying to teach you the secret, I think... That what we're doing here's so completely and utterly insane anyway, there's absolutely no point worrying about it.
- Garth Ennis, "Archangel"
"If I Knew the Way I'd Go Back Home"
I've never been the type to scream the praises of my hometown -- because come on, that's for assholes from St. Louis -- but I like it here. There's just something nice about going to the Wal-Mart you grew up with. I mean sure, all Wal-Mart's are essentially the same, but there's just something about your Wal-Mart. The one where you realized that No Boundaries and Faded Glory are simply your clothing brands of choice, and you're not going to apologize for it.
You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?
I'm talking about cable, people. Dorm cable is fine for getting your Ed and Smallville and Buffy and Samurai Jack fixes on a regular basis (and Kim Possibleon those rare weekends when you're not at mock trial or trying to maintain dignity in the sneering face of a Crazed Roommate), but I've got digital cable here. And that means 300 channels and nothing worth watching... except for Noggin.
Last time I was home, I spent my time reacquanting myself with The Adventures of Pete and Pete. This time, I'm revisiting my old high school sweetheart... Daria.
I swear to God, that two-dimensional vixen broke my heart.
"Home Is Where the Art Is"
I've been to comic book stores all over the country over the last few years.
Seriously.
And by far, the worst one I've been to is probably Monty's Book Swap on 40 Highway, around the corner from Kaufman Stadium. Quite frankly, Monty's is a dive. It's a hole in the basement of Kansas City Artificial Limbs, Inc. It's a Mom and Pop store... and Mom and Pop obviously don't read comics. Their back issues are in horrible disarray. Almost no order whatsoever. We're talking about Detective Comics mixed in with Legends of the Dark Knight. Issues of Amazing Spider-Man mised in with Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man. And they're all crammed into the boxes so tightly, you pull out one book, and three more come popping out. And it's impossible to put them back in.
I know. Horrors you simply don't want to fathom.
Here's the thing, though. I love Monty's.
I started collecting comics at a place called the Paragon that was a pleasant five minute walk away until it moved right up the block. Shortly thereafter, it shut down for good. Monty's -- shitty though it may have been -- then became the closest comic shop to me... and it was six miles away. A vast distance for a fourteen-year-old without a car. It was a forty-five minute bike ride to Monty's... and I made that trip every Wednesday for two years.
I got my first Joe Kelly comic (Daredevil #358) at Monty's... When Ben Reilly was finally revealed to be a clone, and Peter Parker was reinstated as the one, true Spider-Man, I got that issue from Monty's... When Kevin Smith took took over Daredevil, I went to Monty's... When Danielle Schwartz broke my heart, it was Monty's Quarterly Sale got me through it... I lost my virginity at Monty's...
Okay. That last one's a lie.
I've been looking for Flash #145 since the day I scraped Flash #146-149 ("Chain Lightning Parts 2-5 out of 6) out of this big dirty bin of comics left by the guy I subleased from this summer. It seemed impossible to find. E-Bay failed me on this, for godsake, and E-Bay got me "Saga of the Alien Costume" for three bucks and some change. Today, I found it at Monty's after thumbing through the mess of back issues for five minutes.
It doesn't take a lot to make me happy these days.
Of course, the only reason I even went to Monty's was to buy a new keychain. I spent almost an hour in the store looking for just the right one. And when I finally found it, it turned out the price tag had fallen off, and the clerk wouldn't sell it to me because the owner (his mom) wasn't there to decide the price.
God damn that shithole.
"Everybody Needs Homebody Sometime"
I am fascinated by my ability to write about the mundane doings of my day as though I was the first man to ever like coming home from spring break. The ego on this guy, right?
The truth of the matter is that I've had a painfully unproductive day today:
I watched Batman Returns for what seemed like the first time. I don't think I had any idea what actually was transpiring in that flick when I saw it for the first time ten years ago. No idea at all.
I couldn't summon the wherewithal to call My Crazed Roommate and see if he had a tape of Friday's Ed handy... and partly out of fear that the bastard would spoil the episode for me with one of his innocent little comments.
I really should have tried to get some of that Scenes book done. Instead, I read Green Arrow.
I swear. It's enough to make me want to flop down into bed and sleep for fifteen hours.
NOTE TO SELF:
Have Constantine ask Sirius if he'll go into Etrigan's haunted house for a scooby snack.
- Garth Ennis, "Archangel"
"If I Knew the Way I'd Go Back Home"
I've never been the type to scream the praises of my hometown -- because come on, that's for assholes from St. Louis -- but I like it here. There's just something nice about going to the Wal-Mart you grew up with. I mean sure, all Wal-Mart's are essentially the same, but there's just something about your Wal-Mart. The one where you realized that No Boundaries and Faded Glory are simply your clothing brands of choice, and you're not going to apologize for it.
You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?
I'm talking about cable, people. Dorm cable is fine for getting your Ed and Smallville and Buffy and Samurai Jack fixes on a regular basis (and Kim Possibleon those rare weekends when you're not at mock trial or trying to maintain dignity in the sneering face of a Crazed Roommate), but I've got digital cable here. And that means 300 channels and nothing worth watching... except for Noggin.
Last time I was home, I spent my time reacquanting myself with The Adventures of Pete and Pete. This time, I'm revisiting my old high school sweetheart... Daria.
I swear to God, that two-dimensional vixen broke my heart.
"Home Is Where the Art Is"
I've been to comic book stores all over the country over the last few years.
Seriously.
And by far, the worst one I've been to is probably Monty's Book Swap on 40 Highway, around the corner from Kaufman Stadium. Quite frankly, Monty's is a dive. It's a hole in the basement of Kansas City Artificial Limbs, Inc. It's a Mom and Pop store... and Mom and Pop obviously don't read comics. Their back issues are in horrible disarray. Almost no order whatsoever. We're talking about Detective Comics mixed in with Legends of the Dark Knight. Issues of Amazing Spider-Man mised in with Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man. And they're all crammed into the boxes so tightly, you pull out one book, and three more come popping out. And it's impossible to put them back in.
I know. Horrors you simply don't want to fathom.
Here's the thing, though. I love Monty's.
I started collecting comics at a place called the Paragon that was a pleasant five minute walk away until it moved right up the block. Shortly thereafter, it shut down for good. Monty's -- shitty though it may have been -- then became the closest comic shop to me... and it was six miles away. A vast distance for a fourteen-year-old without a car. It was a forty-five minute bike ride to Monty's... and I made that trip every Wednesday for two years.
I got my first Joe Kelly comic (Daredevil #358) at Monty's... When Ben Reilly was finally revealed to be a clone, and Peter Parker was reinstated as the one, true Spider-Man, I got that issue from Monty's... When Kevin Smith took took over Daredevil, I went to Monty's... When Danielle Schwartz broke my heart, it was Monty's Quarterly Sale got me through it... I lost my virginity at Monty's...
Okay. That last one's a lie.
I've been looking for Flash #145 since the day I scraped Flash #146-149 ("Chain Lightning Parts 2-5 out of 6) out of this big dirty bin of comics left by the guy I subleased from this summer. It seemed impossible to find. E-Bay failed me on this, for godsake, and E-Bay got me "Saga of the Alien Costume" for three bucks and some change. Today, I found it at Monty's after thumbing through the mess of back issues for five minutes.
It doesn't take a lot to make me happy these days.
Of course, the only reason I even went to Monty's was to buy a new keychain. I spent almost an hour in the store looking for just the right one. And when I finally found it, it turned out the price tag had fallen off, and the clerk wouldn't sell it to me because the owner (his mom) wasn't there to decide the price.
God damn that shithole.
"Everybody Needs Homebody Sometime"
I am fascinated by my ability to write about the mundane doings of my day as though I was the first man to ever like coming home from spring break. The ego on this guy, right?
The truth of the matter is that I've had a painfully unproductive day today:
I watched Batman Returns for what seemed like the first time. I don't think I had any idea what actually was transpiring in that flick when I saw it for the first time ten years ago. No idea at all.
I couldn't summon the wherewithal to call My Crazed Roommate and see if he had a tape of Friday's Ed handy... and partly out of fear that the bastard would spoil the episode for me with one of his innocent little comments.
I really should have tried to get some of that Scenes book done. Instead, I read Green Arrow.
I swear. It's enough to make me want to flop down into bed and sleep for fifteen hours.
NOTE TO SELF:
Have Constantine ask Sirius if he'll go into Etrigan's haunted house for a scooby snack.
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