Saturday, February 22, 2003

"...The pain that drains like an endless day of rain."

I've had that line in my head all day today. It's a line from The Song of the Sea Goat, by Peter Sinfield on his 1973 solo album "Still".

It has done nothing but rain around here for what seems like days on end. This after several days of frigid, icy conditions...this has been the longest, dullest, most soul-killing stretch of winter that I can remember. Maybe it's because I've been working so much at the ol' day job, maybe it's dealing with the lingering effects of the cold I had earlier this week, I don't know. But I'm not alone, I don't think...I've heard many people talking about how tired they are and how depressing things have been lately, not just people I encounter personally but also people whose blogs I read as well. There's just a big malaise going on right now, in no small part because of the constant bad news regarding world events combined with the flat out shitty weather. All we can do is hope for the best, I suppose...but at least on my account, it makes it difficult for me to sit down and write interesting/entertaining stuff, that's for sure. Assuming of course that anybody ever finds it so in the first place...

Got a letter from Thriller artist Trevor Von Eeden this morning. He was writing to tell me about his conversation with writer Robert L. Fleming and some events that he had forgotten about at the time the two were collaborating on the Thriller comic...including one stunt which had me shaking my head in disbelief that it could ever happen. Without going into too much detail, it was a childish, "show-who's-boss" demonstration which took place in the DC offices back in 1984 and is difficult to associate with professional, grown men in a business environment-whether that business is comic book publishing or anything else. Just to clarify: it happened to Von Eeden, along with new editor Alan Gold. It didn't involve Fleming. It must be difficult for younger comics readers (if there are any these days) to believe that there was a time when information about the whys, wherefores, comings and goings of comic book creators was scarce and limited to what the Big Two wanted you to know about. Publications like the Comics Journal and Buyers' Guide went a long ways towards providing inside info eventually, but it was still nowhere near what we have now. With the advent of the internet and behind-the-scenes columns on a multiple of sites, along with publications like Comic Book Artist, those of us who care get a level of info unprecedented back in the day. With all this in mind, however, sometimes I wish I didn't know so much and this is one of those times, no doubt.

To change subjects slightly, I'm sure most of you are aware of the terrible tragedy involving the fire at the Rhode Island nightclub the other night. Of course, there's nothing one can do or say to make this any better, but the one thing I'm left wondering is how pathetic is it that a has-been group like Great White can't let go of their arena days? I can't think of too many more asinine things to do than use pyrotechnics in a small club. Now people who were just out to have a good time have paid the price for the band's stupidity.

Just finished watching Arsenic and Old Lace again, and getting my Priscilla Lane fix. Sigh. I also watched a LONG jungle action film, directed by Howard Hawks and starring John Wayne called Hatari!. While it was, like I said, extremely long and full of people who spoke clumsy English in thick dialects, it was entertaining despite the fact that really nothing of consequence happened. In the film, Wayne played a Irishman (shades of the Quiet Man) who ran a group which captured rhinos, giraffes, and other wild animals in Africa for transport to zoos. The entire movie is made up of animal hunts and various interpersonal goings-on with the members of the group which includes a young female French photographer, who of course falls for Wayne, who looks like her grandfather. They don't make em like this one anymore...or do they?

I watched Bill Maher's new show last night on HBO, and thought it was OK for the most part. The guest panel wasn't the best, although the always reliably obtuse Ann Coulter was there, and just like the old show sometimes Maher was such a jerk that he makes you feel sympathetic for the panelist he's sparring with...I mean geez, once he made Ted Nugent come across as the voice of reason! I think in the future he should curtail the standup comedy and celebrity cameos...Sarah Silverman's unfunny routine and Chris Rock's pointless appearance made the new show more of an endurance test than it should have been.

Don't know if I'll watch the Grammys tomorrow night. I'll probably watch a few minutes here and there. I don't really pay much attention to the awards themselves, since the music that they recognize has little to do with music and musicians that I'm interested in. That being said, I hope Coldplay and Norah Jones get some recognition. I've enjoyed their music a lot in the last year.

That's all I have for this evening. I had hoped I could get going once I got started and perhaps blow a few cobwebs out of the old attic, and I think I have for the most part. If I think of anything else to write about, I'll probably be back. I think it's about time for another installment of Albums Nobody Cares About Anymore But Me...

No comments: