breakthrough

My first real comix gig will see publication later this summer. My story -- "Nimrod's Son" -- is part of an anthology called BREAK THE WALLS - COMIC STORIES INSPIRED BY THE PIXIES. Describing the book's concept, editor Shawn Demumbrum writes:

What story plays in your head when you listen to your favorite Pixies song? I approached some of my fellow comic book creators and asked them to create 4-8 page stories inspired by their favorite Pixies songs. The song acts as an inspiration, jumping off point, theme or mood for the story. Each story varies in style and genre.

The story that plays in my head while listening to The Pixies' "Nimrod's Son" features an autistic alien god and the biblical Tower of Babel. The surreal six-page sci-fi story is being brought to life by my creative collaborator on the project, artist Christian Kaw. I've known Chris for years via Robotech fandom, and I hope to collaborate with him again very soon. Here are the first two pages sans lettering...




I approached Shawn about including our story after finding out about the project, and -- following a review of my script and Chris's sequentials -- he said yes. I may even have another story in a similar forthcoming book he's publishing next year. I'm thankful for the break Shawn provided us (we were a very late addition), and it's motivated me to finally move beyond my anxieties to "make real" the other comix stories I've been tinkering with for years. Crippled baby steps...

BREAK THE WALLS is available for pre-order through Sunday, July 8. We'd appreciate your support. After it's been published, it'll be available for purchase at comix shops and conventions and on Amazon.com.

sheila, play with robots

To close out the month-long ROBOT MARX project, here are a couple peripheral asides...

Aside 1: In addition to the semester-long WOM 203 writing project that ultimately became ROBOT MARX were a number of other written assignments. Following a week of readings and discussions about popular music, my classmates and I were assigned to pick a song, critique it from the Conflict-Marxist patriarchal-society perspective, and write a one-page analysis. I chose a song from my favorite band -- The Smiths' "Sheila Take A Bow." I had a ball writing it; here's the essay...

British pop-music singer/songwriter, Steven Patrick Morrissey said: "The sexes have been too easily defined. People are so rigidly locked into these two little categories. ... It limits people's potential in so many areas. I think we should slap down these barriers" (qtd. in Robertson 8, 9). Throughout his 26 year career -- starting in 1984 as lyricist for and lead-singer of The Smiths -- Morrissey has actively tried to subvert the patriarchal social structure. For example, 1987's "Sheila Take A Bow" playfully challenges patriarchy on all four of Allen Johnson's defined fronts (5-15).

"Patriarchy is male dominated in that positions of authority [in the world] ... are generally reserved for men" (Johnson 5). Morrissey writes and sings: "Sheila ... / Boot the grime of this world in the crotch, dear" (lines 5, 6). The word "crotch" is most often associated with male genitals, therefore Morrissey is encouraging the song's female protagonist to challenge and rebel against patriarchal society's ascribed expectations for her.

"Patriarchal societies are male identified in that the core cultural ideas about what is considered ... normal are associated with how we think about men and masculinity" (Johnson 6). Society's concept of the differences between "male" and "female" genders are established and reinforced by patriarchy; in the song, Morrissey -- a "male" singer/songwriter -- is singing about Sheila -- a "female." Within this context, Morrissey writes and sings: "Take my hand and off we stride / You're a girl and I'm a boy" (lines 17, 18). In the very next verse, though, Morrissey matter-of-factly takes the opportunity to subvert and confuse gender norms: "Take my hand and off we stride / I'm a girl and you're a boy" (lines 19, 20).

"[Patriarchy] is male-centered, which means that the focus of attention is primarily on men and what they do. ... Male experience is what patriarchal culture uses to represent human experience, even when it is women who most often live it" (Johnson 10). The fact that Morrissey is writing and singing about a woman and her life differentiates him from the majority of his fellow male singer/songwriters who typically sing and write about themselves or the "girls they love." This is reinforced by two of the song's lines: "Is it wrong to want to live on your [Sheila's] own? / ... Throw your homework [patriarchy's gender conditioning] into the fire" (lines 1, 22).

"[Patriarchy] is an obsession with control as a core value around which social life is organized. ... As a result, controllers come to see themselves as subjects who intend and decide what will happen, and to see others as objects to act upon" (Johnson 14, 15). In patriarchal societies, men are the controllers -- the "choosers" -- and women are the controlled -- the "chosen." Here, again, Morrissey subverts the structured norm: "[Sheila] come out and find the one that you love and who loves you" (line 8). Morrissey admonishes the female protagonist to choose for herself a lover, and admonishes her to choose someone who loves "you" -- i.e. Sheila, "the full and complex human being" (Johnson 15). It is also interesting to note that Morrissey leaves the gender of the to-be-chosen lover ambiguous: s/he could be "male," "female," or other.

As exemplified by The Smiths' "Sheila Take A Bow," Morrissey has actively challenged and questioned patriarchy throughout his career. In choosing to consume similarly subversive media, all of us -- "male" and "female" alike -- can do our part in "[challenging patriarchy's] status quo" (Johnson 19).

- - -

Johnson, Allen G. The Gender Knot: Unraveling Our Patriarchal Legacy. Rev. ed. Temple UP, 2005. Print.

Morrissey/Marr Songs Ltd. "Sheila Take A Bow." 1987. Musical composition. Performed by The Smiths, from the compact disc Louder Than Bombs (Sire, 1987).

Robertson, John. Morrissey: In His Own Words. London: Omnibus, 1988. Print.

Aside 2: Behold...



... the original Robot Marx (and son)! A Blogger Stats' traffic-source pointed me to this classic toy manufactured by Louis Marx & Company. From the website, Vintage Robot Toys:

Of the many toys it produced, Marx's line of toy robots are undoubtedly among the most beloved by collectors. Marx introduced this line in the 1950s and 1960s to capitalize on the space and robot craze of the era... These toys included ... Robot and Son, which was released in 1956 and was the first robot toy Marx produced... Founded in 1919, Marx toys were a fixture in five and dime stores as well as with retailers such as Montgomery Ward and Sears, which sold their wares through mail order catalogs. ... The company philosophy of giving their customers 'more toy for less money' helped make Louis Marx one of the most successful toy makers in America; at the height of the Great Depression of the 1930s, when many companies were floundering, Marx not only recorded growing revenues, it was also able to open three factories. By the 1950s, Marx had become the largest toy manufacturer in the world, and founder Louis Marx was crowned "the Toy King" by no less than Time magazine in 1955. ... Louis Marx eventually closed its doors in 1978.

Neat, huh? Now I want one to stand alongside my ROBOTECH Raider X. Too bad it'd cost me over $200... Maybe I'll just write a paper about it instead.

And with that -- ROBOT MARX is officially a wrap.

sister, i'm not a poet

This April is the 16th annual National Poetry Month, "when publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools and poets around the country band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture." Unlike Morrissey, I'm not a poet. But I've written some poems that I'm sharing here -- for posterity and with contextual notes -- to contribute to the celebration. (Yeah, potentially embarrassing; 'see through my clothes, no reason to hide my words.')

The first poem saw publication in 2001 in the poetry anthology, WOVEN MAGIC. It came to me one evening in 2000 when I realized that the three CDs randomly playing in my disc-changer -- The Cure's Bloodflowers, Deftones' White Pony, and Marillion's Fugazi -- all shared themes that reflected my mind-set of the moment.

From my author's note in WOVEN MAGIC: "Music is a mirror. It reflects the listener's hopes and fears, their dreams and desires, their true selves and their state of mind. Music can also be a muse, inspiring the listener emotionally and intellectually. It inspired me to write [this poem], which deals with my own look in the mirror. What did I find...? I found depression. [Yep. Embarrassing.] But despite that, I also found strength in my loneliness. Thanks to music." Here's "The Music Is Dark"...

The music is dark
as my mind falls apart.

Grasping and groping, I crawl
where's the light?

Eyes blind to joy, it seems
impossible to find?

Help me up, please... I think
can't see...

Tears streak and burn
sweet euphoria!

I hear the Night Call
and it is beautiful...

The next two poems came to me and were written on the same day -- Sunday, 25 March 2007. The then "love of my life" had ended our romantic relationship the Sunday before; I was heartdestroyed. My car had broken down earlier in the week; a financial and logistic nightmare. I had received my mid-term grades later that same week; they were not good. And I had just wrapped organizing, managing, and MCing the inaugural year of a sci-fi/comix convention the day before; I didn't have much left to give, but I gave it my remaining all and more.

When I finally crawled out of bed that Sunday, I posted a convention update via MySpace Bulletin. (Times sure change, don't they?) Rereading it a couple of hours later, I noticed that it had a kinda-sorta poetic rhythm. So I reworked it into "Sweet Relief"...

For those of you in the know...
I survived.
Still some worries and stressors,
but not nearly the weight.
Kissed some guy,
hugged some women.
Found out I probably could pursue that Stand-Up Comedy career.
But no...
The joy -- or should that be "gift"? -- I receive in caring, giving and helping can't be beat.
$430 to The Women's Community!
Looked like a dork on TV.
For the first time in nearly a week...
no nightmares.
Doing it again next year.

That Sunday was also an unseasonably warm, beautiful day. So I went for a long walk to decompress. When I got back home, I wrote "Deep Breaths"...

*

Late afternoon
Stepping outside
Deep breath... Deep breath... Deep breath...
First walk of the Spring
In PJs and Chuck Taylors
Down Hamilton, from 5th to 3rd
What will people think?
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn"
Wrong context
Six blocks to Grant
Nice lady on her porch
I smile
"Beautiful day, isn't it?"
A big, warm smile back
"Yes. Yes it is!"
Kissing her daughter goodbye
What's she thinking? Does she trust him?
Does she worry?
Deep breath... Deep breath...
Down Grant, from 3rd to 5th
Churches
Lots of them
It's been awhile
Is He watching? What's He thinking?
Deep breath...
Six blocks back to Hamilton
"So that's what my house would look like if my landlord finished painting it"
Man walking
Still using a Walkman
Wonder if I'll ever get an iPod...
How many blocks total?
One, two, three, four, five...
16 blocks
I still have to see that movie
Home
Deep breath... Deep breath... Deep breaths.

The final poem that I'll share -- written in the same style -- came to me a few days later. It's called "Morning Haze"...

Stir from a dream
images...
Rob rolling his family van down a mountainside...
Tim drawing "lit" Jewish comics...
Mom losing a lot of weight, but now sporting a scruff-beard
"What time is it...?"
might as well get up
Out I flop
turn the coffee pot on
"Thump!"
Al starts calling out to me from his room
Stumble into the living room...
sunny
Turn on computer
eyes still heavy
MySpace while the coffee brews
"A silly for a monday morn.....Best (Worst) Headlines"
read later
Bathroom
Eyes not red
poke and prod the gunk out
"Love these contacts... gotta tell Dr. Chris"
Take a whiz
dark yellow... am I sick?
Get coffee
Get Al
"Hey! It's about time! I'm starv -- WAIT!
"Look! A ladybug!!"
"Don't eat it, buddy... I think I heard they're poisonous."
Meds and water
NPR
"Hourly" first
Time for "Best (Worst) Headlines"
... who writes these things?!
"Typhoon Rips Through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead"
"Ha!" that truly is the winner!
Thought
"I'm gonna write a poem a day, every day"
a diary in word pictures
starting yesterday
Time for "Morning Edition"
big wake-up yawn
Jimi Hendrix' "Purple Haze" plays in my head
later...
I still want to enjoy my Morning Haze.

**

Well, I never wrote that "poem a day, every day," but I did have the opportunity to perform all of the above at a packed open-mic poetry reading that my friend, David "Supernatural Sexual Political Comic Book Doctrine" Cohen -- who is a poet -- organized a couple of years ago. "Deep Breaths" and "Morning Haze" were very well received; it was quite flattering, and I'm proud of them.

As National Poetry Month draws to a close, buy out some time to celebrate this intimate medium if you haven't already. Revisit or write your own. Attend a local poetry reading. Or read some selections. Poets.org is a wonderful one-stop resource. If you need a prompt, I encourage you to consider the late, great Gwendolyn Brooks; she's my personal favorite.

- - -

* "Evening stroll in tutu" by Bonita Cooke.

** "Ladybug" by David Gn; "Jimi Hendrix" via Aaron Smith.