Want to hear some of my music?
Current mood: artistic

A long time ago, in a city far, far away I sang in a band called Neologos (http://www.neologos.net).  We wrote progressive stuff with alternative twists and a few dashes of goth/rock/pop/punk.  It didn't really take off in the New Orleans area, which basically had no music scene to speak of even before the hurricane.

Anyway, we wrote a science fiction rock opera called The Operative Interface.  It's all about this near-future hacker (aka, The Operative) who falls in love with a newly sentient artificial intelligence program (aka, Adversary) designed for system security.  He downloads himself into the network (aka, The Strange) to be with her/him/it, effectively killing his physical self.  This disconcerts his real-life girlfriend, who calls the feds, who try to use another program (aka, Nemesys) to extract him from the system.

Well, if that makes no sense, then wait until you see the lyrics, which I'll post if anyone's interested.

The songs blend together on the CD, so you might be a bit taken aback by some of the connecting pieces.  Go with it!  Relax!

You can go here to download the songs:

http://darksidecomics.com/neologos

Or you can use these links:

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Room As Memory (R.A.M)

Shatter

A.I., Part 1

O Ether, My Aether

Tronic

A.I., Part 2

100k Days

The Adversary

We Burn

Infraction

A.I., Part 3

Nemesys

Reach for Beyond

We Travel

The Strange

Currently listening : You Could Have It So Much Better By Franz Ferdinand Release date: 04 October, 2005

8:24 AM - 2 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment

Using Super-Powers Responsibly
Current mood: geeky

I just opened a comic book store. 

That's quite possibly the greatest line I've ever typed.  Seriously, I've expressed my love for significant others, I've quit jobs, and I've written to random celebrities hoping to open dialogues over amusing subjects that might or might not have pertained to them in any way, but nothing has ever been so cool that pecking the individual keys sent shivers crawling up my fingers and down my spine. 

You're thinking that the job is to sit and read comics all day.  I thought that, too, and really looked forward to adding that particular duty/skill to my resume.  Sadly, reality is quite far from the truth, like when you call a big guy "Tiny."  The job is to handle comics, which means arranging, bagging, boarding, pricing, and organizing (which is the same as arranging, but makes "comic store owner" sound much more tedious if I include it in the list).  Woe is me, and Jesus wept.  Ok, I do read comics all day, happy?

The only bad thing is that I have to sell comics.  Stop laughing.  It's crazy, but I'm wondering if this job is some form of karmic retribution for shaving a stripe off that cat in college, or perhaps I'm just a character in the story of my life and this is poetic justice coming at me with a Mortal Kombat finishing move.  I never realized how painful it would be to part with an Amazing Spider-man # 41.  It went to a good home, I'm sure, but you can't negotiate visitation rights in a retail situation, which has become my main argument against Capitalism as an economic system.

I'm getting over it.

In fact, my schooling in the mercenary art of selling these precious, periodical gems came like a barbed tentacle up the ass.  The first week I was open these two dudes come in, and it turns out they work at CGC, Comics Guaranty LLC, the company you see at conventions that professionally grades comics and seals them in plexiglass containers.  They are world-wide experts (veritable super heroes of collectibity) and their headquarters is here in Sarasota.  The dudes were very nice; we talked about their experiences owning a shop, they gave me advice, we chatted about the greats in the industry, and, basically, we got along great. 

Then one of them asked, rather innocently, to see Detective Comics #315, which I have hanging on the Wall.  If you've never been to a comic shop -- and if you haven't I can't imagine why you've already read this far – the high value comics, the rare birds, are typically hung on the Wall for display, sort of like mounting a moose head, but really not.  Anyway, this dude wants to take a look at the book, claiming he's collecting low-grade issues for personal pleasure.  He starts grading it right there in front of me, silently, not even giving me the benefit of a mumbled "hmmm" or "uh-huh," like a doctor might when prodding a strange lump on your big toe.  I did nothing but watch him grade, paralyzed like a parent about to hear that their child is either a genius or mentally handicapped.

After an interminable amount of time, he finally asked to see my price guide.  If you don't know anything about comics and collectibles – seriously, why are you still reading? – then you should know a price guide simply lists the prices for individual issues of comics based on varying grades, like Near Mint, Very Fine, Fine, etc.  I gave it to him.  He found the issue, and then let the proverbial bomb drop: my book, Detective Comics #315, is over-priced.  He then goes through the motions of pointing out water stains and a few other minor defects, and proclaims with all authoritative might that the book is worth, at best, $20.  Do you know what it feels like to have that "sinking" sensation, and all of a sudden a cold wave washes through your body, which then becomes almost clammy with perspiration?  If so, then you're right there with me as I stood staring down at the book, resting limply on the countertop.

My mind was racing, in part because I had not graded that book myself to verify that the $45 price tag was justified; it had been graded by the previous owner, and I'd not had a chance to revisit that particular issue.  Further, this dude is, for all intents and purposes, the Man when it comes to grading comics.  How can one possibly argue with him?

Well, an important thing to know about the collectibles market is this: something is worth what someone is willing to pay for it.  This guy wanted the book, and when someone wants something and the person who possesses it knows they want it, the position of power typically rests with the possessor.  My retail power play, however, had about gone to shit by this point.  And to skew it further, I felt like it would be somehow important to "get in good" with these CGC dudes, for no discernable reason other than they're big time pros.  I decided to take a dive, and said, as matter-of-factly as I could muster, "I'll give it to you for $30." 

"$25," he shot back.

"Deal," I said.

We were all smiles as they took their leave of the shop, shaking hands and them promising to frequent my humble place-o-business.

I bet you're thinking I'm some kind of schmuck for dropping my guard and losing out on $20 because I was intimidated.  And you're right, I was a putz, in that sense; I've since gone through and re-graded/re-priced everything on the Wall, which I'm sure will grant me more confidence in the face of adversity.  And I do kick myself for my naivety that first week, but over all, I think it was a great lesson in what to expect in this particular world of retail.  It was an experience that's helped me become better, as cheesy as that sounds.

Besides, the book only cost me 50 cents.

Currently reading : Armor By John Steakley Release date: October, 1990

11:54 AM - 9 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Reading the mind of a raging, green monster.
Current mood: geeky

So I'm at DragonCon this past weekend, and it's quite possibly in the top 3 temporary collections of freaks and geeks in this here United States of America.  Brilliant costumes abound.  Walking around you'd see, among MANY other things, a giant Lego Darth Sidious, some scantily clad wood-nymphs, Stormtroopers dressed as Elvis, sexy comic book heroes and heroines, goths dressed to the nines, dorks in great t-shirts, bondage fetishists in kilts, and exhibitionists wearing only paint and gossamer wings.  My point is: I loved it.  LOVED.  IT.

Except for one small moment.  It's insignificant, but it sticks in my brain like someone poured tar into my frontal lobe.

See, at these conventions there are also very famous celebrities, who dutifully take $20 or $25 for a freshly autographed glossy photo of themselves.  In house were Darth Maul (Ray Parks, who is super nice and shorter than me), Apollo from the original Battlestar Galactica series (played by Richard Hatch, who had a cute blonde massaging his scalp while we chatted), and the amazingly beautiful, blonde Cylon Number 6 from the new Battlestar Galactica series (played by Tricia Helfer, who is super nice and very tall).

Each of these bright stars altered their burning course to alight the convention with their very presence.  I'm not a huge fanboy or anything, I don't worship celebrity because they're people just like you and me (at least that's what my mom says), but I like the idea of having a personalized note from those who represent some character who in some way brought joy to my life, even if it costs me an Andrew Jackson. 

So I'm in the signing area, and I see none other than The Incredible Hulk.  I mean Lou Ferrigno, the guy from the 1978 tv series.  This is cool for two reasons.  1. He played the Incredible Hulk.  2.  My dad used to do the Hulk pose for laughs.

Now everything I've heard about Lou is that he's a nice guy, that he's the huge strong dude with the proverbial heart of gold, that he wouldn't hurt the proverbial kitten.  I saunter up to his booth, eyeing a poster of him doing the Hulk pose, which you can get signed instead of the glossy.  He's busy arranging items on his table, and doesn't notice me for a minute, making me feel a bit beneath his notice, perhaps accentuating the celebrity/commoner tension that isn't there but is because he's the friggin Incredible Hulk.  Finally he sees me standing there and asks if I want to buy one of his books.  I love literature - I figuratively devour books - but I'm not interested in what he has to write about, necessarily; in fact, I want him to do the Hulk pose and maybe smash the table.  I shake my head and point to the poster, which is really the end of the beginning of the friendship between Lou and I.  The general atmosphere of the area turns black, as Lou apparently fumes nigh disgust at the fame the Hulk had brought him.  He tells me to clearly print the dedication out for him to copy, signs the poster, then rolls it up and shoves it in my direction, as he turns away to busy himself arranging the items on his table again. 

I was dismissed by the Incredible Hulk. *heh*  No smile, no handshake, no "thanks" for the interest in his career, however limited in scope it might be.  Just studiously applied "you're not there anymore" attitude.

Anyway, at the time I thought: Lou Ferrigno is an a-hole.  I made my way through the rest of the day with nary a stray thought beyond this final judgement of the man behind the jade behemoth.  But then someone mentioned that Lou is partially deaf, which made me re-think the entire situation, and open up that neatly packaged box I'd placed the former body-builder in previously.  Maybe I mumbled or something - it's possible, I've done it before.  And that lead to basically giving the guy the benefit of the doubt: that perhaps he'd had a bad day, that he was suffering some sort of weight-lifting-related withdrawl, or that he needed a cookie.  The point is, I had no idea what might make him react the way he did, and I'd never know.  I'd read the scene one way, placed my own interpretations on it, then closed the case, and that wasn't the most open-minded thing to do.

I need telepathy.  I would use my power for the greater evil...I mean, good, the greater good.  Seriously, I'm pretty lousy at knowing what others are thinking just based on what I observe.  In my opinion, everyone needs telepathy, so we can understand each other and communicate at the most honest levels.  Road rage exists because we're all isolated in our own vehicles, and this limits our understanding other drivers reactions as they navigate the nearly random traffic patterns on our concrete roadways.  If you could type out a message and have it show up so another driver could read it, perhaps somewhere on your car, would you feel less frustrated because in some way you'd be communicating?  I've been considering inventing such a device - I think I'd make billions.  Basically, if you have trouble reading people, or if you jump to conclusions, then you're not only in your own car, but the windows are limo tinted.

Of course, Lou Ferrigno could just be an a-hole.

Currently reading : Dragons of Winter Night (Dragonlance: Dragonlance Chronicles) By Margaret Weis Release date: 01 February, 2000

2:10 PM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment