He's charmed everyone here, except Tamara Easter, who later revealed to him her innermost secrets...
- Ben Folds Five, "Steven's Last Night in Town"
(though apparantly, when they used to play it live, "charmed" was "fucked")

"Easter"
As you may recall, there were a few months there in which I was doing my best to live out the lyrics of "Steven's Last Night in Town." So much so that during my farewell party at Shakespeares, I actually announced to my assembled friends that I could never love a woman with cellulite. If I remember correctly, Prewitt was the only one who got the joke, but Brent wasn't paying attention right then...

Anyhoozle (#14), for the six or seven years that this song has been part of the soundtrack of my life, I've always been haunted by the idea of Miss Easter -- who, until recently, has always been played by Leann Hunley in my mind.

Here's the thing: I'm a pretty charming guy. People seem to like me. Some people seem to like me too much -- and yet rarely in that way. I don't know why, I don't do anything that's really all the interesting. I don't think I go out of my way to be charming -- but I have, maybe, felt a compulsion to try to make people laugh... Maybe too hard at times... God, we're getting lost in one of my insecurity spirals...

My point is that people tend to like me, but every once in a while, I meet someone who just doesn't fall for my mysterious charm. These people even actively dislike me. And I can never shake the feeling that these are the people who know the real me -- that they reveal to me my innermost secrets, while the people who like me know some unintentional lie of me...

On a lighter Tamara Easter related note, Jeffries called and she sounded really excited about "Little Brown Boy Blues," which got me excited about "Little Brown Boy Blues." Of course, she might be significantly less excited to learn that I actually wrote a song from Spider-Man; Rock Reflections of a Superhero into the script, but hey, these things happen...

"Ashes"
Yesterday was crazy fun.

Target finally called and I passed that stupid drug test. They want me in for orientation on Friday. Oddly enough, Target called while I was listening to a message from the HR department of a tax resource institution where I apparantly sent a resume during one of my feverish afternoons on monster.com. It's a position as a data manager/editorial assistant. I have no idea what that means, but hey, this is the first legitimate interview I've scored since I got here. I was started to think my resume was totally stinko. Turns out it's just mostly stinko.

Okay, so that's the crazy stuff from yesterday. Now on to the fun!

I finally got a library card last week -- you have no idea how difficult Bergen County decided to make this for me -- so at long last, I was able to request Promethea Book II. It came in yesterday, and I tell you, a trippier time I have not had in comic book form.

But you know what the best thing that happened yesterday was? Lois Lane wandering around Metropolis University in her pajamas for reasons that are never explained. My theory is that it happened because I wanted it to happen. I think I've developed some strange sway over Smallville. Last week, I said that the guest star, Sarah Carter, was too hot to live, and five minutes later, her character was killed. I didn't ask for this strange new power, but I'll gladly accept that responsibility...

"J'onzz"
NOTE TO PREWITT: I was thinking about it, and I'd like our first collaborative project to be something as ambitious as Alan Moore's best work. I'm thinking about J'onzz, and here's my pitch:

After all of these years on earth, the JLA's resident warrior-philosopher finds himself withdrawing deeper and deeper into himself during meditation, and is skirting the highest levels of consciousness. He's losing interest in the material world. He's stopped noticing the League beeper going off... He's started to zone out in the middle of fights... And this malaise really hits home when one of the Leaguers -- I don't know, Wonder Woman or the Flash -- gets seriously injured in a fight because the Martian Manhunter's off in la-la land.

The whole story is driven by J'onn's conflicting desires to either re-engage his interest in earth or to follow his meditation through and discover the very meaning of life, the universe, and everything, because how cool would it be if a guy who was pulled violently from his homeworld finds himself slowly drifting away from his brave, new one? My inclination, as ever, is to pair him off with someone in every issue: Plastic Man to teach us the joys of earthly life, Batman to illustrate the dark underbelly of human corruption, Green Lantern exemplifies the force of will power, Zatanna flirts with the finer mysteries of magic and the ineffable cosmos, etc., etc...

And of course, at the climax, J'onn J'onzz meets God -- The Martian Manhunter tracks down the Man Who Sold the World. (Because, oh yeah, we're using David Bowie songs for issue titles... With the obvious exception of "Life on Mars?" because, come on, that's way too easy.)

There's really no rush on this, Prew-Prew. Again, this is a project I really don't mind waiting until I'm 33 to start on...

...'cause there's a starman waiting in the sky... he’d like to come and meet us, but he thinks he’d blow our minds...

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