And so on.

First of all, I graduated from college, and now I'm looking at graduate schools. The whole affair feels anticlimactic, but that's probably because I've had the pompous attitude of a college graduate for a while now. completing it wasn't a matter of ability or work, simply time put in. And unlike other tasks that give an immediate reward when you complete them, college is completely unsatisfying in terms of immediate gratification.

Aside from that, life is good but in limbo. Another birthday came and went without much incident. The only thing that even makes it noteworthy is the strides I've made in my life since this point in last year. I now have direction, goals, a modicum of happiness and all that other fuckwittery that accompanies personal satisfaction.

Now, Iron Man. I saw it in the theater the other day, based on all the hype my friends had been giving it. And to give it credit, it's pretty good. Good special effects, decent plot, all and all a good comic book movie. But here's when I start to get annoyed. It's just another fucking superhero movie. And apparently if something is a superhero movie, the first movie has to have seventy-five percent of it related to the origin of the superhero. This is fucking inane. Most people know who Iron Man is. There's no confusion that it's a dude in a suit, and not a piece of artificial intelligence that somehow manifested itself in human form. A good hour and a half of my life was taken away from the assumption that we need to explain this to an audience, and I think the world is sufficiently advanced to figure it out on their own.

Why can't we have a superhero movie that just jumps into the action? Why does every fucking superhero movie have to waste hours establishing a basic identity for these guys? Fellowship of the Ring wasn't about Frodo and Sam drinking hobbit wine and fucking hobbit bitches for an hour and half, talking about how awesome farming was. Interview with a Vampire didn't spend the first hour with Louis hanging out on a plantation in New Orleans, complaining about the heat. Indian Jones wasn't about how he got into being a treasure-hunting adventurer in the first place. This is called the "suspension of disbelief." There needs to be some time spent establishing an environment for the characters, but it can be handled in the background. Or, in a brief explanation, like this.


















Of course, some movies have overcome this, like Hellboy. But for the most part it's the same derivative drek. The first two thirds of the superhero movie is origin, and the final third is an overblown action sequence that shows the superhero has finally come into his own and can handle his own shit. It's fucking boring. I want a JLA movie where they fight Darkseid. I want to see an Authority movie that just drops you in the action. I want Return of the Jedi first. I want to be thrust into badassery, spend an hour and a half in the theater, walk out blown away, and be done with it.

Man, making that picture wore out my rage.

Start

I'm smoking cigarettes like a fiend. As soon as I'm done with one, I feel the urge to smoke another. It's not the nicotine, it's the act of smoking. It's exhilarating. It keeps momentum going, and keeps me from doing what I should be. Namely, working on my project on Catharist literacy. It's the last thing I have to do before I graduate and I'm putting it off in my typical fashion of putting off the one thing I should be doing, because once it's done I'm not sure what I'll do after that.

I'm thinking of everything but Catharism. I'm contemplating joining a Requiem LARP. I'm thinking about The Book of the New Sun, and how it's over-hyped pseudo-philosophical sci-fi that disgusts me. I'm wondering how I'll pay my bills soon. I'm worry about grad school, but not enough to actually encourage my action along those routes.

And I'm wondering, oh I'm wondering, why I bothered to make this blog. I know that I've felt the need to write recently, but I've yet to write anything beyond a cursory examination of my thoughts. Fiction isn't coming, my passion has been unlit for a while, and if I can't even put together a paper I'm satisfied with then what hope do I have to create something I consider worthwhile ruminations.

I've almost deleted the last few paragraphs several times. This blog doesn't have legs, yet. It doesn't have a focus. It lacks definition. And this rambling self-examination is only delaying the inevitable of developing them. But I can only write what I know, and what I know better than anything else my dear reader, is the incredible power of rage and angst. This post seems ridden with angst. But for fuck's sake I'm considering going to a Requiem LARP. Angst is the name of the game.