The Jeremiad

In a rare moment of clarity I figured it out: passion is my friend, anger is most definitely not.

The problem is sometimes I have trouble distinguishing the two.

Too much boiling over lately. Not good. Just not good. But this smidge of self awareness may help start mitigating it. I hope.

Done a little reading lately.

Most excitedly, I finally bought Douglas Wolk's "Reading Comics" -- critical theory applied to comics in a non-pretentious, funny, readable, digestible manner. Barely into it (50 pages maybe), but loving it.

I read "Candy Girl" by Diablo Cody, who just happens to be the screenwriter behind the much ballyhooed movie "Juno" in theaters right now. H saw it; I did not and won't until DVD. Very entertaining book, though. Even if she does sort of overdo it with the cleverisms (too many attempts at clever terms of phrase, I mean; it gets a little old). As I said to my sister-in-law's boyfriend, who gave me the book: nothing I'd rather do on Christmas Day than read about strippers. Rrowrr.

I read the first 10 chapters of Naruto. I've read all the new stuff since the 2.5-year gap (a break in the story where it stops, then picks up again with main characters as teenagers vs. preteens). I wasn;t really looking forward to the early stuff, but it's great -- the art is amazing, and the story is oddly more touching than I expected. I love manga.

Almost done with Omnivore's Dilemma. It's good. Makes me sort of rethink everything with raising/eating food, though I can't claim it'll make me, err, "re-action" everything. Or anything. Maybe some things. More or less put it down to start on Wolk's book, above. Should probbaly just finish it.

I read an issue of Men's Health, which advised me to eat this, that, and the other thing, and stay away from x, y, and zee. And to do certain kinds of exercises so that I'll look more like the B&W cover model. Six pack I don't need, though I'd like to be a bit more healthy and active. These mags always seem to have the opposite of the inspiration effect I'm looking for.

Happy New Year, folks. You cross your fingers and I'll cross mine.

Was just thinking about life in the context of the video-game generation, of which I am a part. I think the '80s games where you'd play ad infinitum on progressively harder versions of the same level are a better metaphor for life (i.e., Pac Man is the same game board forever, but with every level ghosts are a little faster; the third cartoon is the final one, replayed every few victories . . . an amusing break that gets boring) than these much more satisfying modern games that are far more immersive and have definite endings.

There's no point in real life where you can pull a George Costanza, tell the funny joke and leave the room, never to return, eternally basking in your moment's glory. The drudgery continues. Wheels keep spinning, or, as I usually say, we keep on treading water. Alternately, on the negative side, you can pretty much decide "game over, I lose," and pull the plug, but I'd hardly call that a satisfying ending either.

I don't mean for this to sound like a dreary, depressing post -- I'm really quite happy. Just looking forward to changing some things, yet again, because the sameness is getting to me.

One of my first passions was for Greek mythology, and to a lesser extent Roman (I didn't like it as much because I liked the Greek names of the gods better). It then extended into a love of other myths (Norse, Indian, etc), then probably fed my (former) love of fantasy and my still current love of the modern pantheon of 4-color comics.

Anyway.

I'm thinking quite a bit lately about two of my favorite mythological figures, one Roman, one Greek.

The Roman figure is Janus, god of doors. Literally two-faced (as he's two-headed), you can interpret the symbolism in any number of meaningful ways. For now, it's been all about exits. How to exit from a situation gracefully, how to leave my current residence in a responsible manner. Eyes in the back of one's head surely could help. Learn from history lest we repeat it, blah blah blah. Always a plan. Freedom--he's almost tapped into the same kinds of things that I love about Houdini.

The other doesn't have two heads, it has three: the chimera. Let's ignore the modern genetic anomalies that the term's come to refer to . . . I'm talking about a vicious beast with a lion head, a goat head, and a snake head -- though often the snake itself is depicted at the chimera's tail, so like Janus he can always see behind him. It just happens this head's attached to his ass. I think the power of three is meaningful; now that we're a household of three I feel like the chimera is my spirit guide as much as the frog. Yes, this probably means another tattoo. When I have some extra cash. But the goat head will need to be a bull's head instead . . . Taurus, baby.

Anyways, here's the stupid crap I'm thinking about whenever I have a few seconds lately. Silly . . .

So funny to look at pictures of him when he's not with me and see his expressions. I love this one: sort of wise beyond his years and world-weary and understanding and deep.

Aaaaand, then there's this one with his cousin Charlie, where he's all "uh, duh? Wha' happen?" Pretty funny.

Rounding it out with cousins Charlie and Jordan. Judah had such a good time playing with kids this weekend.

I could use some boooze.

Alas, I must drive for 5-6 hours after work tonight. Accordingly, no wine or similar for me.

Perhaps for breakfast.

Happy Chanukah, everyone.

Judah helps us congratulate his favorite, newly crowned librarian/archivist.

Yeah, I keep making the same mistakes over and over again, if in slightly less important venues.

Last time (around 2001) the cycle went something like this: miserable-->miserable+ pathetic --> learning to make the most with what little I had-->lucking into something great & taking advantage . . . .

Still doing so. Life is good.

So I'm hoping my momentary confusion on a few things -- where and what I should be writing in my spare time, if at all, and similar extraoccupationary concerns -- will abate and I'll again come out of it ahead, or at least happy with what I've got.

Oh, yeah -- and the other thing I seem to frequently forget: trust your instincts, man. If it smells like a cock-up, it's a cock-up.

(Heh. The negative example returns).

Hey, looks like i'm going to be contributing on occasion to noted Web-based comix-review site "The Daily Crosshatch." Here's my first contribution.