Finding entertainment in the vast digital wasteland

I am constantly on the hunt for stories. I'm not talking about stories to tell, but stories to consume. It could be movies, TV, magazines, blogs, books, rock opera.

I generally dislike serial TV. Breaking Bad and Sports Night are the only series I ever watched end-to-end. And I watched a ton of X-Files back when I had an antenna on the TV. Lost, Six Feet Under, Better Call Saul - all lost me by the end of the 2nd season. I don't like investing in these things just to have the storytelling fall flat. I hate walking away in the middle of a story, but I'm not going to sit through 60 hours of filler just to find out what happens. TV serials - at some point - always fall into the trap of filling a season instead telling a story. The Walking Dead did the same thing to me. They got so high on their own importance that it seemed they thought all they had to do was tease a death at the end/beginning of the season and I'd come back for another 12 hours to find out who. Nope. I'm out. So anyway, usually no TV for me, unless it's old Twilight Zones or Outer Limits. Anyone remember Eerie Indiana?

I'll cop to enjoying The OA and Stranger Things, but they're still in the single season probationary period.

I often wonder what I'm doing here because I don't read blogs - or other screen-bound materials because I prefer not to read off of screens. I've tried ebooks on my phone and tablet with minimal success. It's just not the same as an actual book. Clearcut the forests for my entertainment.

I prefer nice, heavy hardcovers. Paperbacks are good, but too floppy. Too many ads in magazines. And with a new baby in the house, what little time I had to chill with some reading material has gotten even smaller.

I don't pay for cable. I have some very fine friends who allow me to piggyback their Netflix and Hulu logins. Every so often I get a coupon for Redox and spend 25 cents on a rental. But that's it. Kids, mortgage, groceries. I don't even compulsively buy used books at Barnes & Noble anymore.

If it ain't free, I ain't gettin' it.

Which is why I love some of the podcasts I've found recently. Fiction podcasts are the absolute funky shit. I have a lot of long days of simple, monotonous work and on those days I just plug in and listen.

This is where it started for me:

OpenCulture: Just an endless list of free stories. All public domain. Mostly semi-pro reads done thru Librivox If you're a HorrorHead like me, this is a great way to experience HP Lovecraft. But that's just a few of the roughly 900 free stories. Jane Austen, Leo Tolstoy, Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov and more.

That led me to what is one of my favorite corners of the internet: The New Yorker Fiction Podcast. The New Yorker is famed for its fiction and with good reason. What I really dig about this program is that it features an author who has been published in The New Yorker reading a story from the New Yorker that they love. That's already a nice little bit of geek fun, but it gets better because, after the reading, they do a little dissection/discussion about it with Deborah Treisman, the New Yorker's fiction editor. The discussions feel very informal and friendly. I almost always feel invited to interject on some point. Sort of the literary equivalent of a good commentary track on a DVD.

The NewYorker also has The Writer's Voice. Simple. no-frills. Just a recently published story read by the author.

As a horror/fantasy/sci-fi type guy, the New Yorker products keep me from staying insulated in my little genre bubble.

As for the Genre Bubble, I like The Nightmare Magazine Stories Podcast. Horror at a literary level, I suppose. Here, you'll find horror from all corners of the globe read by a few excellent readers. One of the shortcomings of a lot of podcasts and the like is that many people just aren't up to the task of reading aloud and simply butcher everything they read. Nightmare does not disappoint.

Next is Clarkesworld. Clarkesworld is a wide variety of sic-fi. Not my area of expertise, but it seems to be some of the best in the game represented here. All stories are read by Kate Baker. To her credit, she never gets old or falls flat.

I just added Pseudopod and Escape Pod to my podcasts and am quite happy with these as well. Both are audio only platforms for horror and sci-fi, respectively.

Those are the way I get my reading fix in a life that's often just too busy to keep my nose in a book for more than 30 seconds at a time.

And if another person says to me that I should be watching Game of Thrones, I might strangle them. "yeah, but it's got nudity and violence" is not sufficient to get me to commit to staring at a TV for 80 hours - and it makes me question a person's genetic diversity when that's their evidence for it being a good show.

Why is everyone down on The Dark Tower?

I've been pondering this for over a month now.
Why is everyone down on The Dark Tower movie?
Everyone should be down with The Dark Tower.
Did it deserve multiple 3-hour installments?
Yes.
Did it get them?
No.
Was 90 minutes too short?
Yes.
Am I tired of Universe-In-Peril stories?
Very.
Does this necessarily make it bad?
No.
My wife won a couple tickets to the movies. We spent them on The Dark Tower, even (especially) after hearing how bad it was from every critic and fanboy and Johnny-come-lately. I went because I love the Dark Tower Mythology. I expected a bad movie. Maybe if I didn't have the background knowledge from the gazillion pages of the books, I would have felt a bit lost. Don't think so but not sure on that one.
Did I get a bad movie?
No.
Did I get a great movie?
Hmmmm . . . .
Of course I suffered little disappointments that all gazillion and one pages weren't condensed and represented on the screen. But, really, that's about it. And compared to how much I disliked darlings like Inglorious Basterds and The Avengers, not to mention Batman Begins and bloated tripe like The Dark Knight Rises, The Dark Tower was not only not bad it was actually great. Not a great adaptation, but great entertainment.
I just sat back, stuffed my face with popcorn and thoroughly enjoyed seeing a few bits and pieces of my favorite series of books splashed across the screen. Good CGI. Great in-jokes for King fans. Idris Elba made a fine Roland. Matthew McConaughey looked a bit too mannequin-ish for my tastes but was calm and threatening in a way that I enjoyed. Top notch casting and performances all around. Seems a shame we're not likely to get this group together again.
The fuckin' low men? Nice little touch there.
The gunplay was top notch, even in a world inundated with topnotch gunplay (I'm looking at you again, John Wick).
but at an hour and a half, there just isn't enough of it.
of anything.
Still . . . .
I had fun. I saw a couple of my old friends for the first time in years.

Maybe I'll revisit their novels soon and hope that Netflix or HBO or Hulu gets ahold of The Dark Tower and does right by it with several well-produced seasons of Television.
I hope the movie (which doubled its tiny budget) inspires a new audience to read its source material and spawns the adaptations it deserves.
Do I want more?
Yes.
Am I happy with what I got?
Yes. Yes I am.

On the occasion of my idol's 70th birthday

So here we are, September 21st, 2017. Stephen King is 70.

First of all: Happy Birthday, Steve. (Just FYI, I don't know him personally, I just read that he prefers Steve. I try to use that whenever addressing him as though he were here, even though my instinct is to call him Mr. King)

Second of all: Thanks.

On July 3rd, 1991, I was 13 and you were not yet 44. On that day, I did some volunteer work for the library in my hometown setting up for their annual independence day book fair. As payment for my services I was allowed to choose any books I wanted. I chose a novelization of one of the Friday the 13th movies. It even had a selection of black and white stills form the movie in the middle. It sucked. It was unreadable even for a 13 year old boy looking for some blood and guts and boobs. The other book I chose was this:

a 15 year old paperback. I had to hide it from my parents because my dad thought Stephen King was a pornographer. I read it under cover of darkness in a week.

With that book, I went from reading the Hardy Boys and Caldecott winners from the kid's area at the library to reading grown up stuff.

Salem's Lot terrified me. I remember pinching the pages between my fingers to the point that some of them ripped. My pulse pounded just in anticipation of reading it. And when I got to the end, I wanted more.

MORE!!!

Because of this one book, I read a thousand more. I read a few Dean Koontz but that wore thin pretty fast. Ditto Robin Cook, Michael Crichton, John Grisham. All the other prolific/popular writers seemed to be more or less repeating themselves in story, style, structure. Not so Stephen King. I noticed he reused a few phrases. In the early years, it seemed that someone's flesh would run like tallow once a story. But it didn't seem he was reusing ideas or forms. Each book was fresh and I couldn't get enough. I made myself a deal: I would never read any King books back to back. It would be too easy to rip through the entire Stephen King library.

In those gaps, I discovered Chuck Palahniuk, Dracula, Frankenstein, Lonesome Dove, The Art Of Racing in the Rain, Terry Brooks, Ray Bradbury ....

Through it all, I learned most about authenticity. It's strange to think that a man known mostly for supernatural horrors taught me more about authenticity than anyone else. The stories were surreal and honest and never felt like someone was trying to push me to think one thing or another. They just made me think.

Then, of course, I found my love of writing. I briefly toyed with trying to write heavy, important stuff. But that's just shit. I like camp. I like accessibility. I like chills and thrills. I like vulgarity. I like making you think. I'm not going to tell you what comes after this life, but i'll sure as hell give you the opportunity to ponder it.

I try to tell scary stories. Sometimes I succeed.

Finding 'Salem's Lot at age 13 was perfect timing for me. I was a very sheltered boy with a big imagination. I was ready for bigger things and I feel very lucky to have found Stephen King that day. I also feel lucky to have been able to distinguish between 'Salem's Lot and shitty book based off a mediocre horror movie. A year earlier and I might have preferred the one with pictures in the middle - then who knows what might have become of me.

So, Mr. King - um, Steve - Happy Birthday!
And Thanks!

I hate technology

Sometimes I just want to bitch about things.
Right now, I want to bitch about writing.
Not in general.
In particular.
There's this one story I've been plugging away at. It's good.
I mean, I'm pretty sure it's good.
Two people have read it. Neither of them unfriended me.
Sometime during the third draft, I came to the conclusion that it might be an even better gooder story if I were to convert it into a first person tale.

Still not a fan of editing.

But!!!

I am a fan of making things good and better, so I went about making some of the changes my editor recommended as well as some basic pronoun swapping and language tweaking to provide a slightly more personal touch than the original narrator. I was about two thirds of the way through 10,000 words when I opened up Ye Olde MacBook to sit down and complete the first step in the process.

Did I mention I hate the process?

I'm no M. Night Shyamalan. I'm not trying to surprise you here.

I know you know where this is going.

The changes weren't saved.

Don't even ask. I absolutely DID click the image of the antique data storage device.

Twice.

Aways twice, just in case.

I was doing so well. Ignoring the platform, reading, writing, editing . . . .

All going well.

Three stories cooked al dente, two more simmering.

I even read a novel.

But now this shit with the editing. I have been avoiding that story - so near completion - for several days. I'm here now because it keeps me from having to redo lost work.

You don't suppose it's some kind of message from the great old ones that perhaps I should just leave it be? Maybe. It sure makes me want to give up. I was so jazzed too. The Tall Man will be published very soon, which leaves a vague hint of accomplishment floating around in my failure stew.

It might help if i learned to type. 35WPM is no place for a writer to hang out.

Yet, here I sit slouch.

The lost file is crippling. Everything I want to do, I won't do because I have promised myself to first sit down and finish that pretty good story. But I can't. It infuriates and depresses me every time I open the file. That ain't no editing headspace.

So I eat.

But now we're officially out of food (unless you count onions or corn starch). Thus I have come to this time-sucking cave of barely remembered dreams of ordinary days. Just to avoid being pissed at the goddam unsaved story.

Guess it's not working.

No, wait -  this has been cathartic. Like screaming in the woods or feeding the last jiggly bit of your your nemesis to a pen of hungry pigs.

I know I'll be shoveling teeth out of here later, but I feel ready to move on.

Wandering the Platform

First visit here in a while.
The Blog - 'tis a curious place.
He writes to alert The Others to the fact that he writes.
Just not this.
Some other stuff you cain't look at.
Nuh-uh, not unless someone coughs up a buck for it, so's he can try'n get you to cough up a dime for it.

Y'know, I'd like to give it away.
But I don't because I know I might be able to squeeze a buck outta someone who knows how to squeeze a dime outta you.

But if you wanna be shakin' people down for their lunch money, you gotta have a platform.
I have read one article that said the the platform was unnecessary. That's NOT one of one and one of the other. There seems to be a consensus. While I was napping, everyone else ran down the Woolworth and got one.

A consensus.

And a Platform.

shit.

I'll be honest. I don't wanna platform. But everything I read (except one) says: "THOU SHALT PLATFORM!"

And, oddly, I enjoy my platform, such as it is. This Blog. Instagram. Facebook.
To a lesser extent, Twitter and Tumblr.

I like creating content for them. This questionable post is bringing me some 2am joy. I like the sound of the keys. I like the opportunity to share and interact.

I write because I like to. I don't write because I want to share. I like to read maybe even more than I like to write. I like to write stuff I would like to read. Sometimes, I even like reading something I wrote.

But every minute here, or applying filters and hashtags on Instagram, or likefishing on Facebook is a minute I'm not focused on what I really want to do.

I want to tell stories. And I want to you to read them. I don't necessarily want you to like them but I do want to uncover something to ponder, even if it you just end up wondering how I've managed to remember to breathe all these years. By the way, when it gets tough, I just say to myself: "In. Out. In. Out." Eventually, it becomes habit again.

But as a father and husband working full time, there aren't always hours or minutes where I have the energy to focus on these things. I admit that I am a lazy, procrastinating daydreamer and that as often as not, I simply fritter away the hour or minute I had. When the FDA approves UnLazy and NoProc, I will at least take them for a test drive.

Unless diarrhea is a side effect. If diarrhea is a side effect, I will wait until my children are independent and I'll see if cocaine or speed are as helpful as their promoters say.

I'm not sure how it all helps. Will someone read my story and then visit my blog and say, "Oh look! This one is borderline incoherent on Tuesdays! That really informs this schlocky horror story about a possessed radio!"

Am I proving my commitment here? Will I be overlooked if I appear only to be writing stories that I want to sell? Am I proving my politics? Will I be skipped over (or worse yet, selected) because of my politics?

As I said, I enjoy this.

Platform.

But it makes me anxious. Right now there is a reclusive writer I'm neglecting. He needs a spell-check and a Bowie knife. But I'm over here because I'm afraid no one will ever meet him if I don't have some manner of platform.

It's a bit of a catch-22, wouldn't you say?

Portrait of the artist as a lazy old man.

Death and Damnation

"In the world beyond this one, do you intend to lead a better life?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that your existence - such as it is - is meaningless."

"Meaningless? I loved and raised two children to adulthood. They each raised two children as far as the world allowed. I loved my wife. It meant a great deal to me."

"Selfish. And little more than the accomplishments of the rabbits that lived under your tool shed and ate your cucumbers every summer."

"Fuck you."

"That's no way to address the gatekeeper."

"Oh, so now you're Saint Peter?"

"Not just now. As long as I can remember."

"Then where are the gates?"

"Your kind made that up, along with wings and halos and harps."

"And good looks. You're fucking repulsive."

"Maybe. Ever notice how with everything better than a human, people imagine it to look like them?"

"Angels, aliens, gods. Ok - I'll give you three quarters credit on that one."

"You have no imagination. That's your problem. You think you're the smartest, most powerful creatures under the black skies and you can't imagine anything better than yourselves, so you end up imagining all these things in your own image."

"The bible says-"

"I know what it says. Your kind have been quoting it at me for two thousand years. You all made that up too. Some of it's right, but that's just luck more than anything."

"Is my wife in the world beyond this one?"

"No. Not the one we're talking about."

"There's more than one?"

"Always."

"We get to choose?"

"Not really."

"That sounds suspiciously like sometimes."

"The fact is, I'm just a salesman. I happen to think this is the best Beyond available and I'm trying to get you to choose it but it's a one-time deal. You have to pick it sight unseen."

"And my wife didn't?"

"No. She had no faith."

"What did she pick?"

"I couldn't even guess. Suffice it to say she got to preview a million horrors and select her favorite. I ask you again. In the world beyond this one, do you intend to live a better life?"

"I can't say yes. I thought my life was good. I had no intention of bettering it. Were the question would I, I might be able to say yes."

"Very good. Now do you want to be like me? Or would you prefer another go at being human?"

"Is that body as uncomfortable as it looks?"

"Yes."

"Will I remember any of this if I go back?"

"Only a few ever have."

"Was Jesus one of them?"

"Yes."

"Mohammad?"

"Yes."

"tell me one more?"

"Michael Landon."

"Jesus."

"Language."

"Is there anything other than this gray void here?"

"Only if you close your eyes."

"Ok. I think I'd like another crack at being human."

"Very well. Just head toward the light."

"On my way."

"Once there, you will be faced with some options."

"Some?"

"Millions, really."

"Millions?"

"Yes, but don't worry. As I understand it, the best option is always readily apparent."

"Okay."

"Oh - one last thing."

"Yes?"

"Think warm thoughts. It's cold when you arrive."

Dark Tower Addendum - I am losing hope (a rant).

I am losing hope for the Dark Tower movie. Another release date pushback was announced today. I guess September is the target now? I hope it's just a couple of digital wizards out with 'unrelated' cases of mono.

Never a good sign.

Never.

And I found this news after engaging in an idiotic argument (via Facebook comments) with someone who was complaining about the movie.

First, they complained that the seven book series was going to be mashed into one film and remove Susannah and Eddie - two excellent characters. That is not the point I meant to argue. I just wanted to weigh in on a topic we all seemingly shared interest in. So I noted that it was a continuation of the series, not an adaptation. Then this person kinda snarkily jabs back at me about where I imagine the content might be coming from, if not the book.

I reiterate my point. With mild, Kraft singles-level snark.

This person then comes back complaining, among other things, that the only female and minority character in the books has been removed.

Against my better judgement, I choose to reply. No good comes of engaging narrow-minded crusaders on the internet.

I say, but now Roland is a POC. And the characters you were just complaining about being skipped come later in the narrative in the event the narrative is successful enough to warrant continuation. I also chose, unwisely, to impugn Eddie's honor by mentioning he is a junkie.

I was mad so I went ad hominem on Eddie. Eddie of all people. I love Eddie. And I know a few real life junkies. Only one of them was actually a bad person. I wasn't even speaking my own beliefs.

Oh well.

I was treated to the point that in the novel, Roland is white, thus does not count as POC.

I disagree. It is a brilliant, ballsy move to put Idris Elba in Roland's shoes. And I posit that even if the character of Roland suffers or perceives no racism in the film, that does not make him white - nor does it protect him from the perceptions of the viewing audience.

As I understand it, the movie is meant to be a stand alone piece, but will leave room for further storytelling in the event it is profitable enough. It's all very hush-hush so who the hell knows?

I'm just so pissed that I had this idiotic conversation with someone who just keeps shifting the target to warrant further complaints. And then to turn it into another one of these complaints about Hollywood not being faithful to source material?

Please. Never Happens. Anybody fan can tell Peter Jackson did a fine job with LOTR. Any reader can tell you he missed a few points - some of them boring and not worth the file space. Some were things people liked. Jurassic Park: I like this movie still. The effects haven't aged too poorly. Also - not like the book. Both good. That's just how it is. sometimes you get a good movie out of a mediocre book. Fight Club, anyone?

How about let's complain that Hollywood is so white, when they've cast a black man in the role of a very white character? Then say that doesn't count cuz it's not how he's written? Complain that the movie will condense seven novels into one film and then, when confronted with the likely fact that it is not all seven, complain that the minority characters won't be there, even though they wouldn't be until later?

It's all so very annoying.

If you've read the entire Dark Tower series, you know how it ends. And if you know that, you know how a continuation makes as much, if not more sense than an adaptation. And how questions of continuity are moot. AND how KA IS A WHEEL, goddammit!!

And to top it all off, after trying to defend obviously uninformed complaints with information that I have - and that I admit is likely imperfect - I find out that the movie itself has betrayed me and will delay itself another few months.

In closing, to my junkie friends: I am sorry. I have tangentially impugned your honor as well as Eddie's. You deserve better in my hands.

Complete series. Three are first editions - one is signed by the artist.
One second edition, one third edition, three trade editions.
Also, please take note of the inclusion of Charlie the Choo-Choo.
For those who think I don't take this seriously because I am ok with modifications to the canon (except Han Shot First).
I call this the shelf of honor.
I hope to see Eddie, Susannah, and Oy on the big screen someday.
If I don't, I'm not going to get all bent out of shape.
Of course if I drop $30 to see a shitshow, I'll be briefly cheesed. 

Holy Sh - IT!

I gotta say - I'm excited.

I just saw the trailer for the upcoming IT movie.

That is some serious booga-booga right there. I think I'm like a lot of people who read the novel and saw the old TV movie with Tim Curry as the titular murderclown. I was worried they'd fuck it up. Royally. Tim Curry was amazing. Terrifying. The movie was actually pretty good even if the adults were not well cast. And of course, TV - especially in 1990 - just can't cover all the subject matter. But they did a hell of a job with one hell of a book.

So now it's the 24th and a half century and the only movie that gets made it a movie based on a movie. I can't wait until most movies so fucking meta that they're movies about movies about movies based on movies that are adapted from the novelization of a movie.

I'm concerned. What dumb shit will they do? How can there be a clown without Tim Curry? Will they add a witty, talking raccoon because people seem to like those? Are they making it R rated just because they can and that also seems like a thing that audiences are clamoring for?

Fuck. I was nervous.

But that trailer? Now I'm not so nervous. I understand that there's probably another hundred and forty eight minutes of movie I still haven't seen. but those two look pretty ok.

Like scary as hell. And the clown? Yeah, he'll do just fine, thanks.

The other excitement bursting from me like Geiger art from John Hurt is another Stephen King adaptation. The Dark Tower has been around my whole life and its mythology is woven throughout the stories of Stephen King - including IT. 

I am hopeful (read: cautiously optimistic) about this movie. It has good leads - Idris Elba and Matthew McConaughey - and it is one movie that will require the best of modern digital wizardry to bring to life fantastical places, people and events in a properly convincing way.

Strangely enough, there is no trailer yet for The Dark Tower, which will hit theaters about three months before IT. There was a rough cut trailer leaked online last October. I got to see it before the NSA scrubbed it form the internet. It was every bit as promising as the one embedded above. Of course, when movies have pushed back release dates and what seems like limited publicity, ya might wanna worry.

Anyway. Fingers crossed. And poster ain't bad.

Logan Review

When you play Go Fish, you ask for a card. If your opponent doesn't have it, you have to 'go fish,' pulling a card from the deck. When I was a kid, there was always a certain excessive joy that accompanied drawing the card I asked for when I went fish. I would hold it up for all to see, proving my amazing luck, grinning like the fool that I now know myself to be. Then without trying to seem too prideful, I'd pair the jack of clubs with his diamond adorned brother and set them neatly next to my other collected trophies.

This is, near as I can figure, how I feel about James Mangold's Logan, rated R, 137 minutes.

I, like many of you, have seen more than my fair share of superhero movies in the last ... what? Twenty years? That sounds right. Two decades of CGI wizardry and phenomenal cosmic powers. There have been some excellent entries in the genre over that span of time. Just beneath the X-Men umbrella, X-Men, X2, and Days of Future Past were terrific flicks. That still leaves five movies - over half the current cannon - that were real clankers.

The Michael Keaton/Tim Burton Batmen were a breath of fresh air: strange and dark and visually new. I'm of the opinion that all of the caped crusaders since have sucked. Hard. Heath Ledger was an amazing Joker but that does not redeem the thoroughly shitty and incomprehensible Dark Knight trilogy.

I have seen a variety of swirling CGI menaces bent on the destruction of all life, or all human life, or all mutant life for various vague and terrifying reasons too many times. The first time I saw the realistic depiction of an entire city being leveled, I was amazed and mortified. But now that is the centerpiece to every movie. The Avengers, Fantastic Four, Ninja Turtles, Superman, Suicide Squad, X-Men, and - to a lesser extent - Batman. Did I miss anyone? Probably.

Q: How many times can THE ENTIRE RACE/PLANET/UNIVERSE face down imminent destruction?

A: Every. Fucking. Time.

Congratulations! You've made the killing of a half million people boring and cliche.

What Logan does that has been conspicuously absent from all these movies is it tells a human story. A story of small consequences; individual needs, fears, and desires. It is violent and profane and real. The movie leans heavily on the performances of Hugh Jackman, the always excellent Sir Patrick Stewart and newcomer Dafne Keene who perfectly fills the role of Logan's violent, confused, and lonely progeny.

In Logan, the stakes are not so very high. There is one life on the line and it is not an important one. Not important in the sense that the sun will go out if she is caught and killed, anyway. We have our heroes: Logan and Professor X, both dying.

Professor X seems to be suffering from dementia, which has turned his supermind into an unpredictable and dangerous weapon. The effects of his illness give us the best action set piece - not featuring Keanu Reeves - that I can recall. I'm not forgetting Quicksilver's antics in the kitchen.

In this movie, The Wolverine doesn't quite heal, needs reading glasses, and is reduced to driving a limo to save money for a boat to escape in. Logan's muscle tone is gone. His moobies jiggle when he runs. He's never not drunk.

There is a nice sidebar to the story, which works the comic books in as exaggerated and sanitized stories of the exploits a now extinct race of mutants. Logan is not sanitized - nor should it be. Another part of the power of the storytelling is that it neither ignores nor revels in its violence. It doesn't flinch from the violence and the price of it. There are no bloodless stabbings here. No dark bullet holes quickly healed. There are bloody amputations and violent murders. There is torture. There is regret. And when the innocent die here, we are made to look at them.

What there isn't is a good guy. Logan is no good guy. He's Han Solo, when Han Shot First. There are bad guys, but killing bad guys doesn't make you a good guy, does it?

Logan is imperfect, much like its characters. And similarly endearing. It takes its time telling its story, like many excellent films, and is rewarding and surprising while eschewing the BIG TWIST for somewhat familiar and predictable territory - if you think outside the superhero box.

Like pulling the jack of clubs, I got exactly what I wanted and I was unreasonably happy about it. This is easily a 3.5 star movie on a 4 star scale. 5 out of 4 on the superhero scale.

By way of introduction

You can tell a lot about someone by their taste in movies. I used to work with a guy - his first few days I thought we'd get along. We did. But not as well as I'd hoped. We were riffing on movies we liked and there was a ton of overlap, so I loaned him Memento, the neo-noir thriller from 1992, directed by Christopher Nolan. A few days later, he returned my DVD and said to me "Man, I dunno. That was kind of boring."

I was shocked. Perhaps confusing the first time through - but boring? Not a chance.

As time passed, I discovered that this guy required a high level of either nudity or violent action in order to enjoy viewing it. He could discern within these elements if a movie was good or bad and it was here we usually agreed. Take away the tits and the guts, he only saw that it was boring.

I've watched Memento probably half a dozen times. It only gets better. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not out here only watching critical darlings and highbrow bullshit. I also love Dude, Where's My Car? I know it's not good.

Here's one that divides me and my friends. I absolutely hated Inglorious Basterds. 

Maybe I'll get into all of that another time. Just trying to introduce myself here.

I'm Nick. I'm a writer. Mostly Horror. From the street my house probably looks pretty normal. From my house, you all look like a bunch of fuckin' monsters. But that's cool. I like monsters.

I've got a wife, two kids, a cat, a hermit crab, and all these voices.

Most of the time people are surprised to discover I dropped out of high school. It's not my proudest moment. Not even close - but it's indicative of where I've been and who I've been. People think dropping out is for dummies. It is. I was a dummy to quit. If I hadn't, maybe I could be dead already.

The fact is, I can't even remember being in high school (not drug-related). I hated it so much that I've wiped almost the entirety of four years from my mind. I can't remember people's names, except a few close friends. I still have nightmares about those hallways more than twenty years since I last squeaked a filthy Chuck Taylor across those filthy vinyl tiles.

I keep two podcasts on my phone:
The New Yorker Fiction Podcast 
Nightmare Magazine 

I'm a Stephen King junkie

And i just typed thru daylight saving and lost another hour. I'm gonna be useless tomorrow. Wish me luck.