I really wish I liked beer.

I had two bowls of ceral for dinner tonight. Cinnamon Toasters, the Malt-o-Meal Cinnamon Toast Crunch comparative, and Honey & Oat Blenders, their Honey Bunches of Oats. It was good cereal. I don't have a problem with cereal for dinner, so long as it's still tasty.

In Casino Royale, James Bond orders what he will later call the Vesper, specifically asking for three measures of Gordon's gin, one measure of vodka, one half-measure of Kina Lillet, which is an especially bitter aperitif wine that hasn't even been available since 1985. The man knows what he wants.

I'm picky about my food. Yeah, I know, you look at me and you don't think I'd be picky at all about what goes into my mouth. And to an extent, you're right. I'll try anything once. Some things I'll try a lot more often than once. Some things I'll try a little bit later, thanks.

An example of my pickiness: nine times out of ten, I would rather just buy a block of cheese and shred it myself than buy the pre-shredded cheese. There is a preservative used by every company I can think of to coat their shredded cheese to prevent clumping. Some use more than others, but in all of them, it affects the texture, melting points, mixability, and above all TASTE of the cheese. So I'd rather just shred it myself instead of putting up with the preservative. I'm picky about that.

I'm also picky about cheese in general. I really like cheese, and there's not a cheese I've come across yet that I don't like in at least some situation. But I don't like Cheetos (mainly because of the gunk in your teeth after eating them) and I don't like Cheez Whiz or Easy Cheese or most of the other "processed cheese food" products. I don't like things that have to identify themselves as "food" generally. Same goes for "product", as well. Things like SPAM. I tend to avoid SPAM. I'll admit, I'll eat it when I'm hungry and broke. But if it's all the same, I'd just rather not.

So what's this all got to do with beer?

Well, you see, the thing is... I'd love to be an actual gourmet. I'd love to know what I'm talking about when I sit down to a fancy meal. I want to instinctively know what wines go with what meals. And maybe actually know a thing or two about wine itself. I don't want to be a wine snob, but I see it like putting together a good computer. You can't build the perfect gaming computer unless you know a thing or two about computers, gaming, and everything in between.

I'd like to try caviar. I'd like to know what the fuss is about.

I'd like to really understand why filet mignon is considered the best cut of meat. So far, I'm lost on that one.

I'd like to be able to walk into a wine & liquor store and not just be thinking about whiskey and White Russians. There are people who have a different alcoholic drink for every course of their meal. That blows my mind. I'd like to learn a bit of that.

Matt and I used to talk about opening the ultimate man restaurant. We'd serve big, huge cuts of meat. 24 ounce steaks. Pork chops as thick as a man's fist. Plates full of sausages. Turducken.

But what we wanted to really do is plan out each meal meticulously. All you, the customer, would do is come in and order your meat and soft drink. We'd take care of everything else. You sit down and say "beef medium rare, Coca-Cola". In 20 minutes there's a fresh Caesar salad and hot bread in front of you, next to your big glass of cold water, your big cold Coke, and your pre-dinner wine. Your steak comes and it covers the plate. There's a mountain of perfectly creamed potatoes with butter, parmesan and romano cheeses, garlic, chives, and green onions. And here comes your perfectly golden beer, served at an exact 34 degrees in a frozen mug. When you're finished with your steak, your dessert is served: an H. Upmann Premium Reserve cigar kept at 70 degrees and 70% relative humidity in a hand-crafted cedar box, lit by a strip of pure cedar ignited over an unscentend candle, accompanied by a lightly chilled neat Scotch.

And yeah, that's a silly example, but it goes to what I'm saying. There are things that go well together. I want to know what they are. I want to know what the best food out there is. I want to eat it. At least once.

I know that sake goes well with sushi. I know that red wine goes well with beef. I know that white wine goes well with seafood and chicken. I know that especially sharp cheddar cheese goes well with onions as well as apples. I know that especially bitter dark chocolate goes well with a handful of mixed nuts and raisins. I just want to know the rest.

And that's why I really wish I liked beer.

Beer is supposed to go with sausages. I love sausages. Kielbasa, knockwurst, bratwurst... Oh, we are friends, the sausages and I. I'm not too crazy about liverwurst or braunschweiger. But everything else, I'm cool with.

Aaaaaaand it's supposed to be really good with beer. I don't like beer that much. In fact, I can't say I like beer at all. It's an acquired taste, but all that means to me is that you're getting used to putting something in your mouth that tastes bad.

But I want to be able to understand what that flavor combination is like.




And why don't people drink whiskey at more meals?

Right. Well. My mom is blogging more than me, so I figure that should spur me on to actually updating. Also, my girlfriend has linked her blog to this page, so content would be nice, I guess. For now I'm just going to be re-posting some things that I wrote up on Facebook. It's not that they weren't good enough for here, but the thing is, my blog (this one) was specifically created to share what was going on in Searcy with my Mom. Sure, friends read it, and that's great. But it was for Mom. Now that I'm home, Mom knows what's going on. And Facebook - CURSE YOU MARK ZUCKERBERG - is the friend network that keeps everybody else abreast of what's going on with convenient little icons.

But whatever.

So here's some content.

I really like Star Wars. All six movies. I'm a fan. I admit to a period in 8th and 9th grade where Star Wars was pretty big on my mind, to a point of almost obsession. (Good comics weren't cranking out quite as well then as they are now.)

And it's not that I fell out of love with the movies, I just moved on. I basically moved back to my first love - comics.

But we'll talk comics in a later note.

Right now I'd like to say a few things about Star Wars.

Like I said, I really like all six movies. The original, Episode IV: A New Hope is my favorite, followed very closely by Episode VI: Return of the Jedi.

I have had a lot of conversations in the years since the premiere of Episode I: The Phantom Menace, and the general feeling I get from a lot of people who don't like the newer movies is that they're just not the same as the original ones. To which I say: duh.

Most people who bother to get super-excited about the idea of "new Star Wars movies" are people who already know the original three films extremely well. Like, Biblically. Sex with Star Wars. That's what I'm saying here.

And my thing about the first three movies (the originals, parts 4-6) versus the last three (the recent, parts 1-3) is that they're never going to be able to match up in the minds of the older generation because we grew up with A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi. We've got those movies committed to memory. There's a nostalgic holiness to those three movies that can't ever be touched just because we grew up with them. This is not to say that they're not independently entertaining movies. They are. I think their enduring popularity shows that. Angela Lewis (née Gober) had never seen any Star Wars movies at all until the originals were shown in the Benson at Harding University. If I remember correctly, she was 19 at the time and fell in love with all three movies. Her favorite character was R2-D2, but hey, we can't all be winners.

Over the following years, I seem to remember she wound up seeing Phantom Menace, Attack of the Clones, and probably Revenge of the Sith. I haven't talked to her in a while, but I hope she liked them. I know I did.

The point of all that is to say that I'm pretty sure any kid who grows up from this point forward with parents who pop all 6 Star Wars movies in the DVD player instead of turning the TV to (yecch!) educational programming, that kid is going to love all six movies. If it's a boy, his favorite will probably be Episode I when he's younger, Episode III when he's a little older, then maybe VI by the time he hits high school. Who knows. Tastes change with time, but the movies of your youth always stay special.

For instance: Ghostbusters. Ghostbusters is my favorite movie ever. Ever ever, ever, evereveveveveververververververvevrerververver ever. Favorite. Ever.

I am pretty sure I wore out a rental VHS copy of Ghostbusters when we lived in Florida for a year. Mom and Dad let me pick a movie every time we went to Blockbuster, but it didn't matter. I'd pick Ghostbusters. And if, somehow, it wasn't there, I'd probably be pretty upset. (To be honest, I'd usually go for either Star Wars or Back to the Future.) Ghostbusters II came out that year. Up until Spider-Man 2, Ghostbusters II held the Aaron Rushton Personal Record for the movie seen the most times in the theater, coming in at an impressive 6 screenings. And remember, I was 5.

And I'll admit it. I've seen better movies. I've seen movies that had better visual effects, better stories, better actors, better drama, better lines, better costumes, better whatever. But... it really doesn't matter. Ghostbusters is still my favorite. I grew up with it. (That's not to say that's the ONLY reason Ghostbusters is my favorite. It's just one of the things that influences my taste.)

And you know what, if they came out with a Ghostbusters III... It wouldn't be the same. Oh, I'm sure I'd love it, especially if they kept the Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis writing and Ivan Reitman directing team. But the guys are all older now, and Rick Moranis hasn't been heard from since Brother Bear 2, and Annie Potts just can't be as nerd-hot as she was in Ghostbusters II. I'm serious, go back and watch II, she outdoes Lisa Loeb, and that's saying a whole stinkin' bunch, because Lisa Loeb is hot enough to melt steel like butter.

So let me bring this back to Star Wars for a minute.

What I'm trying to say - and have been trying to say since Phantom Menace came out - is that the primary reason people don't like the new movies is because they hold the original movies in such a high reverence. It's not that the originals are any better or the new ones are any worse, but that we just grew up with the originals.

None of the arguments against the new movies make sense.

"Jar-Jar Binks is annoying." OK, so what about the Ewoks in Return of the Jedi? A lot of people who DIDN'T grow up watching the original Star Wars trilogy (like my Dad) couldn't stand the Ewoks. Dad was 26 or 27 when Jedi came out. He didn't like the Ewoks then, and he doesn't like the Ewoks now. He's not crazy about Jar-Jar, either, but it's because they fit the same bill. I don't mind the Ewoks - they serve a purpose. Same thing for Jar-Jar Binks.

And you know what? Kids love Jar-Jar. Just like kids love Ewoks. For years Lyn would only watch Return of the Jedi with me because it had the Ewoks and that's what she wanted to see - Teddy Ruxpin taking down Storm Troopers.

"The kid playing Anakin (be it Jake Lloyd or Hayden Christiansen) can't act." You know, if you'll go back and look at the Academy Award nomination lists for 1977, there's a reason Mark Hamill's not on them. "But I was going to go to Tosche station to pick up some power converters" isn't exactly poetry. Mark Hamill - Luke Skywalker - didn't really come into any solid screen presence until Return of the Jedi. Even in Empire Strikes Back he's fairly hammy, if you'll pardon the pun.

"Nothing in the new movies makes sense." OK, here's what doesn't make any freakin' sense. Why do the Storm Troopers even bother to wear armor? That armor is apparently entirely decorative, because it doesn't do spit against anything that armor might actually be used for.
OK, I can maybe understand how a blaster set on full-burn kill wouldn't really be stopped by armor. That's kind of dumb, but OK, sure, whatever. But rocks? Rocks thrown by midget bears? And it's not like they were huge rocks, either. And they weren't shot out of cannons. They were just... rocks. Thrown by little bear guys. And they took down an entire legion of Storm Troopers in full standard Imperial issue armor.

And the blasters themselves! Apparently if you hit a Storm Trooper ANYWHERE on his body with a blaster, his facemask instantly releases a cloud of cyanide directly into his respiratory system, just so you can't torture him and make him tell you where they're keeping the next Death Star. You don't see Storm Troopers walk off a hit from a blaster. Vader catches blaster shots in his hand like they were Nerf darts, but Storm Troopers just take 'em and do a dirt nap.

But Leia gets shot in the arm and says "It's not bad." Luke gets shot in the fake hand and it melts off some fake skin. R2-D2 gets zapped right on the robo-rooter and just gets all his vents opened up. He's rolling around again, whistling a merry tune within 5 minutes.
C-3PO takes a shot to the gut and apparently it blasts him so hard that his entire body just explodes into such a tangled mess that it takes Chewbacca half a movie to reattach his head. Backwards.

I'm not saying the original movies aren't good. They're great. But so are the last three. I like those, too. But I really think that's just because I'm letting the new movies stand on their own merit without holding them to an impossible nostalgic ideal.

But one thing I must say... Natalie Portman's attractive and all, but she's got nothing... NOTHING... on Carrie Fisher.

Aaron Learned A Life Lesson And You Get To Laugh At It And That Is Awesome

Well... I had a date tonight...

With...

A drunk homeless girl!

Here's the whole story. Let's go back about 5 months to mid-spring. Lyn was home for Spring Break. As is familial tradition when we all get together, our family took a trip out to Nashville for a nice-ish meal and a little shopping. The meal was... I don't know what. The shopping eventually wound up at The Great Escape, which is nigh-upon inevitable. If we're all in Nashville, it just winds up happening, especially if we're even close to downtown.

Now, it's often been a topic of hopeful discussion between me and Matt that one day we'd be standing in line at the comic book store and hear the dulcet tones of a comic book fan of the fairer sex. So as you can imagine, I was quite taken aback when I was treated to the sight and sound of a girl I can only describe as a punk-rock version of Betty Grable... and she's buying comics.

Yeah, like I'm gonna have problems with that.

So in a rare moment of pluck and courage in the face of girls (yes, I'm a chicken, we all know, thank you for laughing), I casually strolled over to the new comics shelf and commented on the book this girl was examining. (For them of you what's interested, it was the "World's Greatest Super-Heroes" hardcover from DC - the big oversized slipcase of the Paul Dini and Alex Ross stories.) I simply said "Good book."

And with two simple words began a prolonged journey of discovery into the behavior of the street-dweller.

Her name was Nhykei, after the Greek goddess of victory from whom we get Nike. So that's already weird. But hey, that's alright. I mean I met the girl in a comic book store. I'm gonna get some weird on me. Not like I'm allergic to it. (To recreate the conversation, I will be represented by the standard format text. Nhykei will be represented by the not at all as standard bold and italicized text, which is actually a pretty decent graphic representation of the way she talked...)

"Good book."

"Oh! You've read it?"

"Yeah. Got a copy of it at the house. It's expensive, but it's worth every penny."

"Oh, yeah, I know, right? I love the art. I mean, it's so... wow, you know? Yeah. It's really nice. I like this guy's art. It's really good."

"Ah, right, that's Alex Ross. He's pretty top-notch. And the guy who wrote it has won a few Emmys. So that's nothing to sneeze at."

"Oh, wow, yeah, cool, wow..."

"I'm Aaron, by the way..."

"Oh, hi! I'm Nhykei. You read a lot of comics?"

"One could say that, yes."

"Which ones do you read?"

"How much time you got?"

"Oh! I know, right? Ha! Ha-ha, you're funny... ha ha ha... so you read a lot of comics?"

"Ummm... yeah. Yeah. I do. Lots. Actually, I'm kinda looking for an artist to help me illustrate one."

"Oh! I know, right? Well, like, I'm an artist, you know? So maybe I could, you know, illustrate your stuff. I'm not as good as this guy, but..."

"Yes, well, Alex Ross is a pretty high bar to try to hurdle, but sure. I'd love to see your stuff."

Time was of the essence when we first met. Mom, Dad, and Lyn were done with their shopping and were headed towards the door. I managed to quickly punch her number into my cell phone. She told me she didn't have a computer, but she did check her e-mail from her cell phone. So I got her e-mail address, too. Goody gumdrops. Aaron just met a chick. Awesome.

The first e-mail was a simple "hey! How's it going? I'm the guy from the comic book store...", with a passing reference to maybe getting together for lunch or something sometime soon. SURE, she said... But first, you can check out some of my poetry!

OH BOY!

POETRY!

FROM A COMPLETE STRANGER!

I'M LOVING IT!

So at this point I found out two important facts: #1, Nhykei has not always gone by "Nhykei", evidenced by the name affixed to all her poetry: Kendra Smothers. OK, so I guess "Kendra" wasn't hippie enough. Whatever. That's cool. I'm fine with that. (If it seems dumb that I am fine with it, don't worry, I learned that lesson - there's still plenty of fun coming.)

Fact #2 - Kendra Smothers is a REALLY BAD POET. I mean, I'm no T. S. Eliot, but man, this is just noise. It's like it was written by a wrist-slashing emo kid with nothing but a thesaurus and a bottle of Jose Cuervo to guide her through life. (Well, two out of three ain't bad...)

Now, time passes. E-mails are sent back and forth, meeting times are arranged and missed. At first, it's completely understandable. She's got no way to IMMEDIATELY check her e-mail, like I do. We're trying to narrow things down to familiar locations, like the Great Escape, and within large chunks of time just in case things come up. "So how about... Wednesday, at the store, 1:00 ish. I'll be there a little before 1:00, and probably will leave around 2:00. So if you can get there within that hour, you and I will go to lunch with my friends Wally and Billy."

"ok sure ill c u ther babe ttyl"

My goodness, even in e-mails she's got that incredible Yankee-girl-who-smokes-12-packs-a-day voice that I love so much... (Hey, I was attracted to her for two things - killer legs, and SHE READ COMICS.)

Wednesday at the Great Escape at 2:00 rolls around and it's just a bunch of dudes, no lady. So I called, left a voicemail.

Well, after this happened 4 or 5 times, I finally gave up. We have now progressed from March to mid-May. Liz and I are dating, and we were out in Nashville one night at B.B. King's Blues Club when my cell starts ringing.

It's Nhykei! Who I've not heard from in two months! Uncanny!

"Uh... Hi!"

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Uhh... this is, uh... this is Aaron! From the Great Escape?"

"What, like in Nashville?"

"Yeah! The comic book store."

"How'd you get this number?"

"You... uhhh... you gave it to me."

"Oh. OK. So I got a voicemail from you. Did you call me? I got a voicemail."

"Ummm, yeah, I uh... I called in... ummm... March."

"Oh, wow... What is it now?"

"You mean what month is it? It's... May. It's May. I called you in March. Two months ago."

"Oh. I'm in New Mexico. It's really pretty out here."

"New..? Uhh... New Mexico? You're in New Mexico? How'd you... I mean, ummm... OK. Sure."

"So, hey, you still wanna get together sometime?"

"Umm, well, I would, but I'm kinda... I've got a girlfriend now."

"Oh, well, that's OK, I don't care. I'll e-mail you when I'm back in Nashville."

"What? No, I mean, I mean I'm seeing somebody. Like... else."

"Oh, OK. Bye."

"Uhhh..."

So then time passed and she got back to Nashville (apparently). Liz and I had already broken up by the time she e-mails me. "hey you stil seeng that other girl or can you take me out to eat yet ha ha email be mack"

Yeah, I'm dumb.

Again, missed connections... about 5-10 more times. I'm working at the Great Escape by now, so I'm trying to set up meetings on an almost daily basis. "Hey! Meet me for lunch! 1:00! The Great Escape! Have somebody page me! I'll wait for you before I clock out!" So after not eating lunch until 4:00 a couple days in a row, I gave up on that crap, too.

Then she finally says "ok hey can you meet me downtown tonight? i sing on 2nd avenue"

You do WHAT? With THAT voice? Honey, I don't want to be mean, but it sounds like you gargle shards of broken glass every morning. But OK, hey, Bob Dylan's got a huge fan base, maybe she's got some kind of hypnotic lyrics or an amazing guitarist. We'll see what we can do.

And so it happened that I spent a good two and a half hours after work cruising up and down 2nd avenue on a Thursday night, looking for this girl who I've only SEEN, visually, once. And that's 3 months ago now.

Well, I didn't find her.

Another string of e-mails, another handful of missed connections, and finally the next meeting time comes down the pike. "hey ill be at the pizza place downtown on 2nd on sunday come buy me lunch oh and is it ok if a friend comes ok see you there by"

Nuh! Miggaduh! Wuffah! Huh?

So I go. On a Sunday in mid-June. A day I don't even work. It just so happened that I'd been called in for some training that day, as I was starting my eBay description work. So that was luckish.

I get to Sbarro's and there she is. With a very frightening and potentially armed lesbian.

Well, this is good.

Pizza, calzones (I still don't know where she's from, but whereever it is, the local Italians apparently like to say "calls-on-nees" instead of... y'know... "calzones"), and a couple cokes... while 2/3rds of the people at the table are admiring the girls shooting pool.

Fun. For. All.

OK, so we talked about comics. Talked about the Fantastic Four. Talked about the Fantastic Four movie. Talked about Hulk. Talked for the full 30 minutes I had. Then I went back to work. OK. Had a pretty not-bad, albeit sexually awkward, time. Good. Great. During this conversation I find out she's had to put the art on the back burner to take a full-time job at a Waffle House in the BAAAAAAAAD part of Nashville. Hey, a job is a job. But it'll all work out, and we'll get together again soon, according to both her and Rosie O'Donnell over there.

TWO DAYS LATER:
"hey boy sorry but i shud tel u i met anoter guy hes really nice to me and hes a lot closer to me than you are so we can actualy get together sometimes instead of you always missing ware were suposd 2 meet but we can still hang out and be friends bye"

Well... OK.

No big deal. I'm cool with it. It was really becoming more trouble than it was even worth. And she'd lost a LOT of the weight that I actually found attractive on her in the first place. But hey, "New Mexico" or whatever.

The rest of June, all of July, the first half of August.

Then, 5 days ago:
"hey how you have been we shud get 2gether and get dinner ill be at demos monday night NOTHING CAN BREAK OUR DATE YOU HAD BETTER BE THERE by babe"

OK, Demo's is a steak & spaghetti restaurant downtown Nashville. EXPENSIVE. I wouldn't mind taking a girl there. Just not a girl I haven't seen in 3 months who may or may not have a boyfriend.

"Ummm... Well, I can't make it tonight, sorry... I have to... go... to... uhhh... Arkansas, yeah... to help... help my... sister... move... into her dorm..."

"oh ok well later then you tell me"

There's a nice little bar across the street from the Great Escape. It's RIGHT THERE. She knows where the Great Escape is. I know she knows. She's been there. It is, in fact, the only thing we have in common other than a respiratory system dependent on oxygen, and I'm starting to question that.

So I suggest the Midtown Pub for Tuesday lunch. Or dinner. She doesn't make either. I just look through the bar and walk out both times. She e-mails back and says she's got a "death thing" to go to on Thursday night or else she'd meet up with me, and she can't "rescedual" (of all of them, I thought that was the best... rescedual... wow). So of course I don't want to interrupt a "death thing"...

But she shoots me an e-mail yesterday that says "ok ill be ther at 6;oo on the dot exactly no questions asked youd better be htere or im get mad at you he he see you there"

OK, so her "death thing" must have died. What. Ev. Er.

I clocked out at 5:59. I get to the bar... she's not there.

OK. I have managed to gather through certain context clues that she doesn't have a car. Got it. Great. Fine. I'll wait a minute. Or 30. Whatever.

I'll have a coke and cheese fries, please. (These cheese fries are really good. Nice hot fries covered with shredded cheddar cheese AND mexican cheese sauce, the white kind with the jalapenos. It is tres cool.)

It's 6:15. My thirst is sated and my fries are poppin' fresh. Still no Nhykei.

It's 6:20. I'm trying to wave my waitress down to ask for the check... and she stumbles in.

It was like watching a clown in slow motion. She was her own awful poetry in motion. She managed to run into three people and two completely stationary not-at-all-moving walls.

She sits down across from me. Her eyes are half-closed, her leathery super-tanned skin is pale, and her lips are dry. When she opens her mouth there's a brown film covering everything. She stinks. Bad.

"Oh, hey, sorry I'm late... my friend took me to the Hard Rock Cafe and... tequila."

(Holy buckets, tequila? And you're this smashed? It's six o'clock!)

"I had about... a lot of shots. And thirty limes. And a lot of salt."

THIRTY LIMES? I don't even know how the tequila math works out here. But I finally spoke up.

"Oh, no, it's fine. Fine, fine. Fine."

"You're not disappointed in me are you? I mean, I feel bad, because I'm SOOOOOOOOOO DRUNK for our first date in like, 3 months..."

"Fine! Fine. Fine."

"Do you smoke? Can we smoke in here? You smoke, don't you?"

"Fine! Fine. Need an ashtray. Fine. Here. Smoke away. Fine. By the way, what happened to the new boyfriend?"

"I found out he was smoking crack."

"Well, that's a good reason to leave a fellow..."

So I'm finishing my fries. She orders the cheese dip and chips with a coke. She walked from 2nd avenue all the way up to 21st. And judging from the stains littering her mouth, lips, and shirt, she painted the sidewalk tequila colored a few times on her way up.

So I tell her "Oh, umm, you know what? I can't stay very long... a friend of mine is coming up from Texas and, uhhh, I gotta be at the house to, y'know, pick him up... at the... interstate..."

"Well, can you drive me back down to second?"

"Yeah, sure."

This is when the big prize of the night slipped out. She's digging through her purse - which I am just now noticing is like 10 years old - and out falls a business card for someone named Ann... at "HOMELESS POWER" of Nashville.

She's part of the Homeless people activist group... MADE UP OF HOMELESS PEOPLE.

My goodness.

So I paid for her chips and dip, told her I was going to get the truck and take her back downtown, and walked out the door. I seriously debated actually driving back (in the car) to take her back downtown, but I figured tequila barf wasn't good for the interior, and who knew how many other things she was going to ask me to buy her before I got rid of her...

So there you go. It's over.

Just to let everybody know, and really clear up any confusion that might be floating around out there...

For them of you what don't know already, my grandmother, Evelyn Bartlett Nelson, passed away Tuesday night at 6:35 after a massive heart attack.

And Tuesday was also my first day of work at the Great Escape.

Talk about bi-polar.

I had just spent an entire day sorting through hundreds of comics, putting them in order, bagging and boarding, taping, pricing, and stocking. I was so thrilled just to be working so much and so intimately with the things that I want to spend the rest of my life with, hopefully both writing and selling.

I had put the last piece of tape on my last comic book bag for the day and was about to head downstairs to clock out when the intercom told me I had a call on line 3. It was Mom, saying that she and Dad were coming to meet me in Nashville and pick me up. From the tone in her voice I could already tell that they weren't picking me up to take me out for pizza and a movie. Something was wrong. After I asked, Mom said that Grandmother had just had a heart attack.

Wow. That's pretty bad.

You have to understand that when I heard this, the immediate assumption was that Grandmother would be OK, or as OK as an 86 year old woman would be after having a heart attack. But I didn't think it was a severe heart attack. Grandmother gardened every day. She was active. She went to the YMCA and took old people swimming classes. She wasn't "next on the list" in anybody's eyes.

Liz and I were supposed to have a date that night. I called her and explained what had happened, and she came to comfort me, and God bless her for that. She was an immediate comfort and I felt so much better to have her. But, again... I didn't think the worst yet.

My parents met up with me in Nashville around 7:15, and we headed towards the Hendersonville hospital, arriving just before 8:00. Mom and Dad already knew, but I was still in the dark. Through verbal context clues and the sorts of things everybody was talking about - notifying the church, talking to the funeral home - I started to realize what was going on. It didn't really hit until later when I actually asked Dad the status of things. That wasn't fun.

From the time Mom had called while I was still at the Great Escape to just before Dad told me Grandmother was gone, I'd been feeling pretty not-that-great. Not just about Grandmother, but instead about how I'd spent my day. I had been "working" with comic books. It's not work for me. It's play with pay. I love doing it anyway. Page after page of comic after comic flipping through my fingers... you'd have to give me some pretty drastic news to bring me down. (Like my Grandmother having a heart attack.)

I told Liz that "It's pretty hard to get excited about Captain America whipping the crap out of a Nazi when your Grandmother's just had a heart attack."

Feelings of inadequacy came on pretty strong. Conflicting desires swelled up. I want to spend my life working with comics. I want to write them, I want to sell them, I want to share them. I love comics with such a passion that I am completely prepared to spend my entire life working on them, in them, around them, with them, and through them. They're what I want to do.

But then Grandmother has a heart attack and it all starts to feel really silly. Are comics really worth the time that I've been given on this earth? Is this the best I can do? Should I just throw it all away?

In the 2 hours between leaving work and the events at the hospital, I'd seriously considered dropping every book I read and selling all my books back to the Great Escape and getting out of comics altogether. Drastic, I know, but hey - sometimes you react, y'know?

And then Papa told me something that took it all back and completely renewed my passions. Grandmother had just learned that morning, from Mom, that I was working at the Great Escape, finally working with comics. Papa said that she was so proud of me and was so happy that I had finally started off doing what I wanted to do so strongly. This was my life's love, my goal, my burning desire, and Grandmother approved, even up to that morning.

She was proud of me. She was happy for me.

And that made all the difference.

Grandmother wanted me to be happy. She wanted me to spend my time doing what made me happy. So long as I was doing the best I could do and living to the best and fullest of my abilities, she would be proud of me.

Well, I think she'd be proud to know that I went to work the next day and stocked comics on the main floor. I put the new comics out on the shelves. I organized the trade paperbacks. I unloaded a truck full of back issues. I lived my dream.

And I thanked her for being proud of me.

Jessica, Jessica, Jessica…

First off – no, I didn’t forget you. How could I?

Second – you never get on AIM anymore, and if you do, it’s not on the screen name I have, so… rectify this.

Third, and concluding the post…

Whoof. That’s a tall order there.

I’m glad you stewed. Stewing has to happen sometimes.

Now, the easy answer would be just to tell you that there’s a comic book out there of most of the things you’ve listed.

Stargate comics are published semi-regularly by Avatar Press, and you can read about them here and order them here. I’ve never read these comics, so I don’t know what I’m referring you to here.

There was a whole batch of Serenity comics right when the movie came out. I’ve not read them, either, but they’re written by Joss Whedon, so that should be acceptable. Try looking here or maybe here, and if you can’t find anything, ask me.

There’s a book of Matrix comics, written by the Wachowski brothers, and it should be available at most big chain bookstores, and if not, it can be ordered.

Hillary Duff comics I can’t directly help you out with, but there were a few Lizzie McGuire CineManga comics available from TokyoPop, I believe. Wouldn’t really know where to tell you to look for those, though, and I am very sorry.

Spider-Man comics… Goodness. If you want to start Spider-Man, which, y’know, would be totally rockin’, just let me know and we’ll decide where you should start off.

The O.C. and Dawson’s Creek, I can’t directly help you out with, but how about this? Allen Heinberg, writer and producer of The O.C. as well as Sex & The City, writes a few comics these days. So maybe that’ll do the trick. Look for Young Avengers (by now in trade paperback at finer bookstores everywhere) and, starting in June (I think), Wonder Woman for a few issues, but I have no idea if Wonder Woman will be any good, and I personally have avoided Young Avengers – not a fan.

OK, yeah, I know, it’s a big messy answer and it’s all over the place, but that was the “easy” answer. Here comes the more difficult (and more thought out) part.

I think you might dig Blankets by Scott Thompson. It’s all kinds of emo. It’s an autobiographical tale, and mostly a love story. I thought it was worth reading. Be prepared, though – it’s huge. Some 400 pages if I remember correctly. Try asking for it at your library, through an interlibrary loan if they don’t have it themselves.

Didja like the Batman Begins movie film cinema adventure? I thought it was pretty good. So here’s a little trifecta of Batman goodness that covers the early years of the Dark Knight, and manages to throw in a pretty neat love story between Batman and Catwoman: Batman: Year One by Frank Miller and David Mazzuchelli, and then Batman: The Long Halloween and Batman: Dark Victory by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale. It’s not the basis for the movie necessarily, although they do share some threads.

(By the way, you know what would REALLY help me in writing this? If you were online. See, I don’t know if you want to read superheroes or not, and that completely messes up the game.)

I can’t ever say enough good about Mike Mignola’s Hellboy, which starts the collected adventures with Seed of Destruction and is followed by Wake the Devil, which I pretty highly recommend reading back to back, as if it were one story. The stories are not directly connected, but I feel that it paints a better picture of the goodness that is Hellboy. If you liked the movie AT ALL, you’ll love the comic.

Also, I am very hard pressed to find things as awesome as Eric Powell’s The Goon, which is part Land of the Dead, part Untouchables, and all hilarious. Goon books, unfortunately, are a little harder to find outside of the local comic shop, so you’ll probably want to turn to an online source such as Amazon or one of the big bookstore websites for that.

(I’m going to assume, since you’re not online, that you want to read superheroes. So here come the superheroes.)

Kurt Busiek’s Astro City is AWESOME. The first book is Life In the Big City. There’s something of everything in Astro City. I feel ashamed by my words here because I can’t think of a lot of ways to express how good Astro City is.

Invincible is very worth everybody’s time, including yours. It’s the typical teenage-boy-gets-superpowers-and-becomes-a-hero story… except not at all typical. It’s got a lot of the teen drama that I think you might be looking for, and it’s also got a lot of explosions and people dressed in bright colors getting punched into orbit. Start with volume 1, Family Matters.

Supreme Power is a brutally honest look at what the world might be like if superheroes were really real, and it takes that look through a skewed lens at the DC Universe, using characters who fit the archetypes of characters like Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, The Flash, and Green Lantern. The first 18 issues have been collected into three trades, Contact, Powers and Principalities, and High Command. I have listed all three of these because the story flows at such a pace that you will immediately want to read everything else you can as soon as you can if you like the first part at all. There are also three spin-off books, Supreme Power: Nighthawk, Supreme Power: Hyperion, and Supreme Power: Doctor Spectrum. Nighthawk is an incredibly violent and gory twist on Batman vs. The Joker, Hyperion is a slightly complicated foreshadowing of things to come in the future, and Doctor Spectrum is, regrettably, a mostly unnecessary character examination of one of the cooler characters in the book. So… Do with those what you will.

This is already getting huge, so I’m just going to start doing rapid fire suggestions, feel free to ask for more information about any of them, but know that I thoroughly enjoy every single one of them, or else I wouldn’t be suggesting them!

Ultimate Spider-Man, The Ultimates, and Ultimate X-Men – updated “retellings” of the classic ideas and themes of early Marvel comics. All the trades are conveniently numbered for easy access. Start with 1. Work towards the bigger numbers.

Concrete – Not really a superhero book. More of a slice-of-life book. Very poignant and very well done.

Maus and Maus II – Holocaust story told in an incredibly unique and striking form.

Perseopolis and Perseopolis II – a young girl’s life experiences in Iran in late 20th century.

Strangers in Paradise – Romance, romance, romance, romance. Wonderful book.

Sandman – one of the most highly praised comics series of the 90’s, and from what I can tell, it’s completely justified. The King of Dreams and his adventures in restoring the world to a peaceful dream state after 80 years of captivity.

Sandman Mystery Theatre – completely different! But still awesome. Wesley Dodds – millionaire nerd – puts on a fedora and a gas mask and beats the everloving smack out of bad guys in the Depression. So very incredibly wonderfully good and dark.

Bone – I wrote about Bone elsewhere. Read that.

I could go on and on and on and on and on, but I have to do laundry and get ready to go to work tomorrow – AT THE COMIC BOOK STORE!

I know it’s an insurmountable list of material. But look at it this way – this is the stuff I’ve sorted out for you! There’s still way too much stuff I’ve not read… and I’ve read all of this stuff! And a lot more!

Get back in touch with me and let me know something good!

ALL OF THESE BOOKS SHOULD BE AVAILABLE AT YOUR LOCAL COMIC BOOK STORE! IF THEY ARE NOT, PLEASE ASK AN EMPLOYEE TO ORDER IT FOR YOU! IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHERE A COMIC SHOP IS LOCATED, PLEASE CALL, TOLL FREE, 1-888-COMIC BOOK (1-888-266-4226) FOR A SHOP NEAR YOU!

Also, regular-type bookstores can order most of this for you, and it's all available online.

I just thought I'd let everybody know...

I just landed a job at The Great Escape! HA! I'm going to be basically just organizing comics - which is TOTALLY COOL by me. The pay's just minimum wage, but I get a 20% discount for the entire store, which is rockin' and rollin'. Something tells me Aaron's gonna finally get his hands on the big vinyl 18 inch Battle-Damaged Hellboy figure he's been eyeing... You may also eye it for yourself by clicking here.

Yeah, I know, it's awesome.

I think that this is just about the best job I could have other than actually writing comics or running my own comics store. Or working as some kind of buffalo wing quality assurance manager at Hooters.

Well, I figure today is as good a day as any to go ahead and tell you all... I've been keeping it bottled up for years, and it's just driving me absolutely crazy. I've been living a complete lie, and I can't do it anymore.

I'm gay. Gay as the dickens. Completely homosexual to the biggest gay wahoo degree you can think of. Elton John? I'm gayer. That really prissy blonde guy from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy? I'm gayer. Clay Aiken? Well... OK, he's pretty flippin' gay, so I'm not quite his level of gay. But still. I'm gay. So... there you go.

And so we find our hero once again with a regular column! Hooray!

http://comicavalanche.com/columns/comicbookevangelist.htm

So go there. And read it. It's about comics, though, so I can understand if you're less than completely enthused.

But still. I'm writing about comics!

The following is a slightly edited IM between myself and my good friend Mr. Robin Crocker. Enjoy.

Aaron: I'm listening to some Van Morrison, was thinking of that thing you said the other night about having him actually play at a wedding, to which I must heartily agree.

Robin: ooh, yes
Robin: i somehow left tupelo honey off that list, i realized
Robin: that would be necessary

Aaron: Yes, Tupelo Honey is a must must.
Aaron: I could do with having my wedding entirely Van Morrison music, I don't believe I'd be too heartbroken at all.

Robin: it's thoroughly addictive

Aaron: I'm just glad to know that, somewhere in my life, I've managed to absorb enough culture that I'm hoping for a Van Morrison wedding and not a Van Halen wedding.

Robin: right
Robin: that would be such a farce
Robin: "um.. wow. you guys are um... old."

Aaron: Well, Morrison's no spring chicken.

Robin: and they only song i'd want to hear is I can't stop loving you
Robin: ok, but he's not attempting blistering guitar solos at 130 decibles

Aaron: I'd have Runnin' With the Devil playing as my bride-to-be walked down the aisle...

Robin: or maybe Why Can't This Be Love
Robin: right before the vows, and then say "well, eddie, i'll tell you why this can't be love. i don't love this girl, i love rock n roll. FOREVAHGGHGGHHHH!!!"
Robin: and then maybe kiss will show up

Aaron: Oh, man. I've seen too many VH1 shows with KISS weddings... Shoot me dead.
Aaron: But here's what's even worse. You've got to admit, having Van Halen actually in the building when you get married is a far step above just playing nothing but Van Halen at your wedding.
Aaron: I personally hope for neither.
Aaron: But the latter is definitely worse.
Aaron: That's like asking for permanent kool-aid mustaches for your kids.

Robin: lol yes
Robin: but it'd have to be so over the top... not like your standard 6 or 8 songs during the service, like ALL of diver down, van halen 1, and 2, 5150, and balance
Robin: continuously. probably a 5 hour ceremony, just sitting and listening to the track sequences

Aaron: Oh, man.
Aaron: Wow.
Aaron: ERUPTION, MOTHA**********S!!!!!

Robin: "And now, before the unity candle, we have another medley by Yes, you guessed it, van halen, incluiding where have all the good times gone, hang em high, cathedral (since it's a wedding, folks) secrets, intruder, pretty woman, dancing in the street...."

Aaron: As all the bridesmaids come in, it's "Beautiful Girls", which I can not hear without thinking of the Schmitt's Gay Beer ad from SNL.

Robin: "And for their honeymoon, the couple will be spending 10 days together in PANAMA!! PANAMA-AH-AH-AH! PANAMA!!"

Aaron: ... City Beach, Florida.

Robin: lol right

Aaron: "I Can't Wait To Feel Your Love Tonight" is played as the bridal party leaves...

Robin: and then just some cover of a song they'd never ever do, but has to be thrown in for the occasion.... like unchained melody

Aaron: Oh, mercy, with David Lee Roth screeching it out, totally murdering the song...

Robin: or canon in D on the drums
Robin: BANG.....BANG....BANG...BANG..BANG....BANG..

Aaron: lol

Robin: maybe "the way you look tonight" by Sinatra
Robin: we could be amazing wedding planners though