I guess when I try and sum up how I get -- how I feel sometimes around this time of year... I feel blue. Not like I've been dipped in with the Tidy Bowl Man, but like in music, in jazz... in feeling blue. And I long for a time when a girl I knew with an incredible smile and so much good in her heart made me think... Life can be great.
- Jeph Loeb, Spider-Man: Blue
"My Funny Valentine"
If you're a young woman, aged 18 to 24 who read JLA/Avengers #1 and can explain to me why I laughed out loud when I got to page 46, please contact me.
Hell. If you're a young woman, aged 18 to 24 who read JLA/Avengers #1, contact me. I'm not sure I can even explain why I laughed out loud...
"Let's Fall in Love"
The last time I let myself develop an infatuation with someone famous, she ended up throwing a comic book on the bathroom floor. If you pay close attention to that scene in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days -- if you really listen -- you can hear the sound of my heart breaking.
So, I try to avoid celebrity crushes on general principle. Besides, I've seen them reduce many a friend and acquaintance to a pathetic wretch.
Then why do I find myself oddly drawn to Lisa Loeb? Is it because she was walking around living quarters looking vulnerable years before Robert Downey Jr. made it cool? Is it her involvement with Spider-Man? A particularly poignant line in "Alone"? The fact she knows Ben Folds?
Naw. It's the glasses. It's gotta be the glasses.
But who am i kidding? Nobody beats a Zappa. Especially not one who did voicework for Duckman.
"Anything Goes"
I might just be growing paranoid due to my co-habitation with Mr. Jones, but I'm not sure if I trust you anymore.
(Yes, I'm talking about you, and I especially mean YOU!)
I have the strongest suspicion that the people around me are up to no good. I can't be any more specific than that. Have you ever felt that your friends expect something from you that you can't deliver? Or that they want to push you in a direction you don't want to go in without you knowing they're pushing you? And what's worse is that my ill-defined code of conduct forces me to play the clueless chap in this regard. Clark, The Fairly Good-Natured, Naive Little Boy Who Doesn't Know What's Going On Or What He Really Wants.
Well let me tell you something I generally don't share with just anyone (he wrote on his weblog): I have a vague idea of what I want out of life, and an even vaguer idea of whether or not I'm capable of accomplishing such things... but I'm one-hundred percent clear on what I'm willing to do to get it.
"Autumn in New York"
I always thought that when I graduated, I could live in my mom's basement for at least ten years before she'd tell me to leave, but apparantly, the former Mrs. Clark has got other plans. She's arranged for me to live with my grandmother in Teaneck, New Jersey, a hop, skip and a jump -- and toss in a 20 minute car ride depending on traffic -- across the George Washington Bridge from the Big Apple.
So this time next year, I'll probably be spending autumn in New York doing God knows what... and poorly. It's funny, because in a way, my life started out there. I was born in New Mexico, and my family moved around a lot because my parents were in the Air Force. But while I have a few scattered memories of those days -- like the green house we lived at in Dayton, OH, or the time I burned my arm pretty badly at a block party barbeque -- it was after my parents divorced and my mom left the military and we moved to the Bronx to live with my grandmother for a year that I really came into consciousness.
I don't know if memory works like this for everyone, but there's a single point from which I can remember everything that's happened to me since (Or at least have a pretty good handle of the Cliff's Notes version), and it's driving into New York City when I was five-years-old. I started kindergarten at PS 127 -- where I always played He-Man during recess, I had one of the worst babysitters ever, and sometimes, I'd go out on the balcony of my grandmother's 22nd floor apartment and blow bubbles over the city streets. At the time, my ambition was to be a stand-up comedian -- which I could barely spell. My favorite movie was our tape of The Pokey Little Puppy and the Patchwork Blanket, and when I thought of God, I always imagined a giant penny in the sky (because both God and Abraham Lincoln had beards) and I was only slightly bothered by the fact that God Almighty was never looking down at me, but always off to the right...
I must be getting sentimental in my seniority. I don't remember talking about my childhood so much before.
"If I Had You"
While I'm on this whole blues riff, I thought I'd take this opportunity to admit something I've been meaning to mention for a couple of years now:
I have no reason to believe that I myself can distinguish Miles from Coltrane.
Take from that what you will.
"All of Me"
You know how they say that people who can't cry are dead inside? Does that mean that being alive inside is something so sorrowful?
It's not a notion I disagree with... I'm just wondering.
I only cry when I disappoint the women in my family these days.
Do you think that anyone ever really gets to know another person, or do we all just settle for knowing bits and pieces of our friends? Does anyone really know every part of themself? Can you love someone completely, or do you just ignore the chunks you can't adore?
Will anyone ever understand all of me?
- Jeph Loeb, Spider-Man: Blue
"My Funny Valentine"
If you're a young woman, aged 18 to 24 who read JLA/Avengers #1 and can explain to me why I laughed out loud when I got to page 46, please contact me.
Hell. If you're a young woman, aged 18 to 24 who read JLA/Avengers #1, contact me. I'm not sure I can even explain why I laughed out loud...
"Let's Fall in Love"
The last time I let myself develop an infatuation with someone famous, she ended up throwing a comic book on the bathroom floor. If you pay close attention to that scene in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days -- if you really listen -- you can hear the sound of my heart breaking.
So, I try to avoid celebrity crushes on general principle. Besides, I've seen them reduce many a friend and acquaintance to a pathetic wretch.
Then why do I find myself oddly drawn to Lisa Loeb? Is it because she was walking around living quarters looking vulnerable years before Robert Downey Jr. made it cool? Is it her involvement with Spider-Man? A particularly poignant line in "Alone"? The fact she knows Ben Folds?
Naw. It's the glasses. It's gotta be the glasses.
But who am i kidding? Nobody beats a Zappa. Especially not one who did voicework for Duckman.
"Anything Goes"
I might just be growing paranoid due to my co-habitation with Mr. Jones, but I'm not sure if I trust you anymore.
(Yes, I'm talking about you, and I especially mean YOU!)
I have the strongest suspicion that the people around me are up to no good. I can't be any more specific than that. Have you ever felt that your friends expect something from you that you can't deliver? Or that they want to push you in a direction you don't want to go in without you knowing they're pushing you? And what's worse is that my ill-defined code of conduct forces me to play the clueless chap in this regard. Clark, The Fairly Good-Natured, Naive Little Boy Who Doesn't Know What's Going On Or What He Really Wants.
Well let me tell you something I generally don't share with just anyone (he wrote on his weblog): I have a vague idea of what I want out of life, and an even vaguer idea of whether or not I'm capable of accomplishing such things... but I'm one-hundred percent clear on what I'm willing to do to get it.
"Autumn in New York"
I always thought that when I graduated, I could live in my mom's basement for at least ten years before she'd tell me to leave, but apparantly, the former Mrs. Clark has got other plans. She's arranged for me to live with my grandmother in Teaneck, New Jersey, a hop, skip and a jump -- and toss in a 20 minute car ride depending on traffic -- across the George Washington Bridge from the Big Apple.
So this time next year, I'll probably be spending autumn in New York doing God knows what... and poorly. It's funny, because in a way, my life started out there. I was born in New Mexico, and my family moved around a lot because my parents were in the Air Force. But while I have a few scattered memories of those days -- like the green house we lived at in Dayton, OH, or the time I burned my arm pretty badly at a block party barbeque -- it was after my parents divorced and my mom left the military and we moved to the Bronx to live with my grandmother for a year that I really came into consciousness.
I don't know if memory works like this for everyone, but there's a single point from which I can remember everything that's happened to me since (Or at least have a pretty good handle of the Cliff's Notes version), and it's driving into New York City when I was five-years-old. I started kindergarten at PS 127 -- where I always played He-Man during recess, I had one of the worst babysitters ever, and sometimes, I'd go out on the balcony of my grandmother's 22nd floor apartment and blow bubbles over the city streets. At the time, my ambition was to be a stand-up comedian -- which I could barely spell. My favorite movie was our tape of The Pokey Little Puppy and the Patchwork Blanket, and when I thought of God, I always imagined a giant penny in the sky (because both God and Abraham Lincoln had beards) and I was only slightly bothered by the fact that God Almighty was never looking down at me, but always off to the right...
I must be getting sentimental in my seniority. I don't remember talking about my childhood so much before.
"If I Had You"
While I'm on this whole blues riff, I thought I'd take this opportunity to admit something I've been meaning to mention for a couple of years now:
I have no reason to believe that I myself can distinguish Miles from Coltrane.
Take from that what you will.
"All of Me"
You know how they say that people who can't cry are dead inside? Does that mean that being alive inside is something so sorrowful?
It's not a notion I disagree with... I'm just wondering.
I only cry when I disappoint the women in my family these days.
Do you think that anyone ever really gets to know another person, or do we all just settle for knowing bits and pieces of our friends? Does anyone really know every part of themself? Can you love someone completely, or do you just ignore the chunks you can't adore?
Will anyone ever understand all of me?
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