Let’s get going shall we?
I had a conversation with one of my favourite people about writing last night. What motivates us. How we find a subject. I inwardly noted that I am a man with a lot to say…often. But so are many people right? What pushes the verbal onto a page? What pompous self-importance makes me think that you will want to read it? Nothing I suppose. I genuinely do enjoy the process of using words to express the world. It makes the time pass pleasantly and is, on occasions, challenging. I’d be lying if I claimed that big readership numbers didn’t improve my morning, sometimes. But the same can be said when they hit over a certain number and I wonder why on Earth people are interested…
Yet, here I am again. Typing.
I don’t really even have a plan this week.
Except.
The ACP episode from last week about ‘God’/‘Gods/‘gods’ is still poking me under the dinner table. I read a piece recently by a Christian claiming that there is a hopelessness to atheism. We are left with a combination of nothing to believe in which ends with a death believing there is nothing to go to. Posited as a bleakness of what they would describe of as a ‘soul’. Perhaps this is true. It struck me with some personal sadness at the point of turning the page. But a retrospective is a great thing.
Sure I don’t believe in a cheesy afterlife with that beardy bloke in the clouds (or the pits of pain as a more likely alternative for this non-believer). Nobody is watching us and what we do, and at the same time allowing atrocities. I am horrible and nice at my own bidding. Sometimes influenced by the idiots of the world, but ultimately everything is my own decision.
If we take a moment to describe religion (all religions) as fantasy and myths then mine are in the pages of a comic. I don’t believe in Superman but, let’s face it, he does have moments of moral direction. Even when bored as a Catholic altar boy in the seventies my mind would wander to thinking about The Fantastic Four or Iron Fist. I’d imagine that the big candle was a weapon, that the thurible could be swung around my head and lift me into the clouds. I’d see the Brothers and Priests as the supervillain, I’d plan my revenge after getting a holy slipper to the bum for whispering after lights out. Me and a bruised buttock can attest that there’s no such thing as a ‘Religion of Peace’.
If there was a Church of Spider-Man I’d probably read the poster and consider joining.
If Femforce set up a Cult I’d be banging on their door with a rosary.
Just don’t tell Brother Lawrence.
“Anyone who isn’t embarrassed of who they were last year probably isn’t learning enough.” — Alain de Botton
Back to the regular programming.
Tops.
This has been a slow mini series so far but issue 3 is back with big narrative swings. I won’t spoil but there is a massive reveal in the works.
Consistent and well told comics with some real feeling characters. It’s a shame we only get the one mini-series a year. I could read these all day and night.
Bottoms.
Hahahahahah. There’s something so crass about these comics that they can make me smile. Not a bad cover all told. But the interiors are sub par in art and story. If you’re a movie fan, probably best to swerve.
‘Let your karma run over your dogma.’ – Salman Rushdie.
Creamy Shits.
See you next week. Thanks for reading.
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