Friday, July 13, 2012
Steve Ditko and P.Craig Russell: "This World Alive!"
As I prepare my Comic Con post, enjoy this piece from 2010's Integr8d Fictions, of which you can find more at Integr8dfix.blogspot.com
!
“Am I mad to think that I may communicate with a living planet? That I may reason with a world enraged?” (Right there’s a clause that could be a nice Stan Lee-approved title, though “This World Alive!” chosen by Mantlo suits Rom, Spaceknight #69 (Aug 85).
From the cybernetic memory banks of Rom, spaceknight:
The battles of other worlds, their mysteries, have haunted my way. I, the poet, have born the scars of conflict stretched over two hundred years; even the banishment once and for all of Wraithkind has yielded no surcease since departing Earth.
Now have I begun searching for the signals of my own kind, the blossom of Galador’s youth wrapped like myself in unfeeling spaceknight armor. Indeed, the two lifeforms I sense faintly here are my first hope of finding fellow Galadorians since Starshine fell to Wraith treachery upon my first return to Earth.
That return filled me with great woe, for though I would again see the woman I had come to love, I now had the knowledge that mad Terminus had stolen my humanity for himself, only to fall to annihilation when Galactus threatened Galador. How I long for her golden spires! If there are any who may join with me, I must seek them out, that we may see our paradise together.
Landing from outer space, my Analyzer picks out two signatures analogous to Galadorian Spaceknights, So engrossed, I gradually realize: we face a world mind, upon an entire single biomass!
Memories are often attached to smells and flavors such as no spaceknight may partake in armor. Upon this world I could not smell the burning of follicles, which to me were constricting tentacles, but like skin, the surface contained pores. I become then an accidental invader, a foreign body---and soon, the target of antibodies, agents of a system that engulfed this world alive.
Strong emotions attach to incidence, and even through two hundred years of search and battle do I recall jubilation greatest—such as my discovery of fellow spaceknights---and most mind numbing horror---such as these remnants of my foes made pathetic in their powerless state.
My sickening discovery sends cyborg senses reeling: the terror of Wraiths embodied within slowly dissolving acids throughout the chamber I face! Strange! These arch enemies, deprived of their homeworld’s magic, share my circumstance of victimhood in the planet’s whims. I grant them release with his Neutralizer. Again, the world rages; I must abandon this “stomach” and its raw function to feed to find the brain of the living planet. Its awareness emanates...”from the worldmind of the entity called Ego!”
I answer formal inquiry, I am Rom of Galador, called by some the greatest among her spaceknights--- only to feel the focused “biomolecular assault” of merciless Ego.
This impresses Ego, who points out the suspended, similar life forms: Seeker and Scanner of the Space Knight Squadron! The cyborgs have become Ego’s studies; vehemently, I object that they are war-heroes who deserve to go home. *
Captured Seeker and Scanner beg me flee to safety; never!
http://tinypic.com/m/dn1x1f/1
Unconditionally I declare for their release. Ego scoffs. “Mine is the wrath of a world driven to madness by suffering beyond your comprehension!” Already was the planet dying from its battle with Galactus (in Thor #228); he was sent soaring out of control from Earth by the Fantastic Four (viewtopic) towards the raging forces of the sun! This star, however, instead triggered his photosynthetic rejuvenation, and so did Ego pull together his mass. Gaining control of the sidereal propulsion unit affixed by Galactus, Ego launches for another corner of the galaxy, to rest and to feed.
Ego feeds, not on other planets, “but I could quite easily feast upon those inhabitants of other worlds witless enough to land upon me!” He allows the Dire
Wraith infestation, watching them build defenses and awaiting a second army. He cursed his luck; only two such enemies arrived, yet they made a brave stand ---until Ego absorbed spaceknights and wraiths!
I promise this Neutralizer “can scar you within as the sun has scarred you without!” I empathize over the pain I inflict; “I must preserve the lives of my comrades.”
Fear shows upon the face of the Living Planet, and as soon as the whine dies, Seeker and Scanner fall released beside me, grateful, in need of support. Scanner remarks my inherent genetic superiority allowed to wield the power of the greatest of spaceknights, but all their hearts to me are great, their intentions as pure as mine.
Now we are interrupted with expulsion back through a pore to the surface.
Unsteadily, we brace for escape and further battle, but with his sidereal rocket, Ego retreats. Rather than pursue the superior powered being, Seeker mentions the Wraiths, but I can now break the terrific news that they’ve nothing left to do but go HOME!!!
---ROM, retrieved from cybernetic circuitry and documented by Publius Enigma of Galador.
*Honored warriors kept from their homeland by the command of an ego...whose ego? Fascinating.
It’s P. Craig Russell, inking Steve Ditko, featuring a menace created by Stan and Jack!
!
“Am I mad to think that I may communicate with a living planet? That I may reason with a world enraged?” (Right there’s a clause that could be a nice Stan Lee-approved title, though “This World Alive!” chosen by Mantlo suits Rom, Spaceknight #69 (Aug 85).
From the cybernetic memory banks of Rom, spaceknight:
The battles of other worlds, their mysteries, have haunted my way. I, the poet, have born the scars of conflict stretched over two hundred years; even the banishment once and for all of Wraithkind has yielded no surcease since departing Earth.
Now have I begun searching for the signals of my own kind, the blossom of Galador’s youth wrapped like myself in unfeeling spaceknight armor. Indeed, the two lifeforms I sense faintly here are my first hope of finding fellow Galadorians since Starshine fell to Wraith treachery upon my first return to Earth.
That return filled me with great woe, for though I would again see the woman I had come to love, I now had the knowledge that mad Terminus had stolen my humanity for himself, only to fall to annihilation when Galactus threatened Galador. How I long for her golden spires! If there are any who may join with me, I must seek them out, that we may see our paradise together.
Landing from outer space, my Analyzer picks out two signatures analogous to Galadorian Spaceknights, So engrossed, I gradually realize: we face a world mind, upon an entire single biomass!
Memories are often attached to smells and flavors such as no spaceknight may partake in armor. Upon this world I could not smell the burning of follicles, which to me were constricting tentacles, but like skin, the surface contained pores. I become then an accidental invader, a foreign body---and soon, the target of antibodies, agents of a system that engulfed this world alive.
Strong emotions attach to incidence, and even through two hundred years of search and battle do I recall jubilation greatest—such as my discovery of fellow spaceknights---and most mind numbing horror---such as these remnants of my foes made pathetic in their powerless state.
My sickening discovery sends cyborg senses reeling: the terror of Wraiths embodied within slowly dissolving acids throughout the chamber I face! Strange! These arch enemies, deprived of their homeworld’s magic, share my circumstance of victimhood in the planet’s whims. I grant them release with his Neutralizer. Again, the world rages; I must abandon this “stomach” and its raw function to feed to find the brain of the living planet. Its awareness emanates...”from the worldmind of the entity called Ego!”
I answer formal inquiry, I am Rom of Galador, called by some the greatest among her spaceknights--- only to feel the focused “biomolecular assault” of merciless Ego.
This impresses Ego, who points out the suspended, similar life forms: Seeker and Scanner of the Space Knight Squadron! The cyborgs have become Ego’s studies; vehemently, I object that they are war-heroes who deserve to go home. *
Captured Seeker and Scanner beg me flee to safety; never!
http://tinypic.com/m/dn1x1f/1
Unconditionally I declare for their release. Ego scoffs. “Mine is the wrath of a world driven to madness by suffering beyond your comprehension!” Already was the planet dying from its battle with Galactus (in Thor #228); he was sent soaring out of control from Earth by the Fantastic Four (viewtopic) towards the raging forces of the sun! This star, however, instead triggered his photosynthetic rejuvenation, and so did Ego pull together his mass. Gaining control of the sidereal propulsion unit affixed by Galactus, Ego launches for another corner of the galaxy, to rest and to feed.
Ego feeds, not on other planets, “but I could quite easily feast upon those inhabitants of other worlds witless enough to land upon me!” He allows the Dire
Wraith infestation, watching them build defenses and awaiting a second army. He cursed his luck; only two such enemies arrived, yet they made a brave stand ---until Ego absorbed spaceknights and wraiths!
I promise this Neutralizer “can scar you within as the sun has scarred you without!” I empathize over the pain I inflict; “I must preserve the lives of my comrades.”
Fear shows upon the face of the Living Planet, and as soon as the whine dies, Seeker and Scanner fall released beside me, grateful, in need of support. Scanner remarks my inherent genetic superiority allowed to wield the power of the greatest of spaceknights, but all their hearts to me are great, their intentions as pure as mine.
Now we are interrupted with expulsion back through a pore to the surface.
Unsteadily, we brace for escape and further battle, but with his sidereal rocket, Ego retreats. Rather than pursue the superior powered being, Seeker mentions the Wraiths, but I can now break the terrific news that they’ve nothing left to do but go HOME!!!
---ROM, retrieved from cybernetic circuitry and documented by Publius Enigma of Galador.
*Honored warriors kept from their homeland by the command of an ego...whose ego? Fascinating.
It’s P. Craig Russell, inking Steve Ditko, featuring a menace created by Stan and Jack!
Thursday, July 12, 2012
One from our sister blog Integr8d Fictions
Integr8d Fictions is at Integr8dfix.blogspot.com !!! See the February 2011 column for more posts on Steve Gerber!
Defenders (1972 series) #20
"The Woman She Was...!" is written by Steve Gerber and drawn by Sal Buscema and Vince Colletta. Cover by Gil Kane. Guest-starring the Thing. Continued from Marvel Two-in-One #7.
The Enchantress created the Valkyrie by trapping the spirit of one of Odin's shield-maidens in the body of an Earth woman named Barbara Denton Norris from a small New England town. Despite her Norman Rockwell upbringing, Barbara had fled the little hamlet for a drug-fueled life in New York City, leaving behind her confused husband Jack. But now that the woman called Barbara is gone, wiped out by the Enchantress' spell, the Valkyrie finds herself picking up the scattered pieces of her tragic life.
The mundane thing that brings the Valkyrie back to Cobbler's Roost is a harmonica with the enigmatic name "Celestia" written on it. The musical instrument ended up in the hands of Alvin Denton, Barbara's widower father, who believed playing the harmonica would restore his daughter's fractured mind. Instead, it destroyed the world and only the quick actions of the Thing, Valkyrie and Doctor Strange were able to reverse the effect. But the trauma killed Alvin and Val feels its her job to return his body to Cobbler's Roost. But once there, she falls into a plot launched by a cult that worships the Nameless Ones; a sacrifice offered up by none other than Barbara's dead mother and accentuated by that very same harmonica!
In #20: Gerber takes over, concluding Englehart's story guest-starring the Thing, in which the team thwarts the Nameless Ones (see THE INCREDIBLE HULK #126 for details) and the Valkyrie begins her discovery of her life as Barbara Norriss. In #21, she continues her search for her body's husband, Jack. Val, if you didn't know, is a Valkyrior spirit fused to the body of insane Barbara Norriss by the Enchantress, as seen in DEFENDERS #3; her mind dominates the pairing.
#21: Val looks at her scrap books from her Barbara life, and she and Steven go looking for Jack. Hulk wrecks a home after playtime with the kids is rudely interrupted, which makes the little girl cry and then makes Hulk cry. Kyle sees hippie model Trish Starr (which I read long after creating my own hippie model, Celestia Englehart, who you'll meet in Not Another Comic Book #1) and Chondu, Morgan, and Nagan, the Headmen
(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Headmen) create their maddening Black Rain (not to be confused with Chocolate Rain, which is also maddening) and commit robberies while the Defenders go nuts. Kyle saves Trish from committing suicide but no dice on catching any Headmen.
DNA Comics #1 is ONLINE!!!
With this summary, we begin a storytelling journey, tying up some loose ends that throw Valkyrie in particular into relief, a fantastical character suddenly accounting for a real life! As we go along, the structure and approach of Gerber's work, and the questions he raises, will become more and more the body of what I want to tell you. Steve Gerber, for me, stands well beside Luigi Pirandello, with even a touch of Cervantes himself, and many other challenging yet entertaining literary lights who could write of sadness and confusion, and yes, heroism, with a knowing eye towards character and dialogue that presents individual and sometimes eccentric voices.
Listen, I'm still figuring out integr8dsoul.com, but meanwhile, you can do what Jason did. (He also got a special bonus copy!) In Jason's case, he sent us $9 at
C. Lue Disharoon
542 6th Ave.
San Diego, CA 92101
which was really cool as it covers shipping and handling, at $1.25 each! The issue itself, DNA #1, retails for $3.25, but save a quarter and get this clearly-drawn story with warm characters and Southern Gothic occultism today for $2.99, $1.25 shipping and handling in the U.S.
You can send $30 and get any three t-shirts and the comic, too---or $25 for the two styles of shirts and a comic.
NOT ANOTHER COMIC BOOK IS COMING IN 2012!!!! Like the INTEGR8D SOUL page on FB for more!!! And this blog and more new material are coming out as a book in spring of 2012, INTEGR8D FICTIONS.
Meanwhile, our t-shirts, featuring our first two painted covers by Gary Shipman, are available at Convention Special Price, for $12 each or 3 for $30, plus $3.00 for shipping & handling.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Tears in Mayberry : a requiem for Andy Griffith
Mayberry, North Carolina was surely one of the most cheerful places to grace the silver screen. If you ever dreamed of---or miss---life in small towns before cell phones, wi-fi, prescription pills and meth, I have to tell you that what made the Andy Griffith show resonate so, in its family-friendly stories, is that hint of truth about it. Oh, not a place to confuse with Heaven, and filled with its own quiet desperation, day dreams and foul-ups, to be sure. But you just know you didn't have to lock your door, and if anything out of the ordinary happened in the night, you'd know Sheriff Taylor would come around and do his best to make heads or tails of it. Now, I grew up in a time and place that was the twilight of that timeless place, and the smell of cut grass and summer days hot as a fire cracker. It was a jarring transition, but as a boy I remember what it's like to have neighbors bring over extra bushels of vegetables from the garden when they'd grown more bounty than they could eat, and watched Mama make home-cooked meals for sick people (to be Southern is to love people with food). If Shannon, Georgia, U.S.A. was more complicated, following the pathos of Viet Nam and the counter-culture and the onrush of the modern world, it at least smelled and sounded like Mayberry, and had plenty of modest, decent people to go around---just as gracious to your face and maybe a bit too hard on one another in gossip. It was a place where sanitized, corn-pone humor still had a place in a genteel exchange, and while we may not have had the comic timing of the Andy Griffith Show ensemble, the kinds of laughs you could have with anyone were not so different. You just might illustrate a point by comparing something to "that time on Andy Griffith."You could never count on television to instill the values you need to see by example, but I cherished the fair-mindedness and patience of Sheriff Taylor. That ubiquitious program had a way of placing the presence of loved ones passed on and times gone by in the living rooms of baby boomers and their children. However hokey the contrivances, there was real heart to The Andy Griffith Show, with its sympathetic single father and curious young son, with its goofy array of unbelievably benign comic characters. However dark the world may have been in its silence and ignorance, this little television program distilled, in a charmingly secular fashion, the paragon of Southern hospitality and virtues, for while its simple people may not have always been wise, they were apt to see the error of their ways. Right along with them was the good-hearted, compassionate Sheriff, with his own share of mistakes, and his continuous tolerance for his hapless best friend, Deputy Fife. It's funny how there's something in this passing that brings out in each of us our own little old person, our own inner country person, to say things like "they don't make 'em like that anymore"---something in our reverence for a simplicity with ease and grace. In my exuberance for flashier heroes, I may have forgotten the influence of Andy Griffith's character, in the type of reliability, generosity, fair-mindedness, and open-hearted patience with which he was written and portrayed. I can tell you I've seen every episode of that program about a dozen times, and somehow end up watching it again each time Mama comes to California to visit. It's not so much the simplicity of those times---and when was anything so simple as that which could be resolved in 22 minutes of Golden Age of Television programming? It's about being straight-forward...about listening to people...avoiding ridiculing them for their problems, while you, with them, try by grace to see the light. I enjoyed Andy in "Matlock," too---one of the shining lights of older, lead actors on television. It was one of those last television programs I watched with the whole family, just as I realized maybe I watched TOO much t.v. and needed to live a little more life! Even a person as young as I was may have caught the Mount Airy, North Carolina native in "Rustler's Rhapsody," the drama "A Face in the Crowd" (from 1957) and "No Time For Sargeants." He was a lifelong Democrat and a Grammy-winning Gospel singer. He died this morning at 7 a.m. in his home in North Carolina. http://soundcloud.com/c-lue-disharoon/ceci I got a bit choked up recently when I decided to cover a song called "Country Comfort," missing my own grandmothers and the way of life that still whispered to me of its days in my boyhood. There is something very valuable there, related to getting back to the land and not living so extravagantly, playing with toys made straight from nature, and the kind of virtues related to working with your hands beside the seasons, which I wish to distill and pass along. I could recite more Andy Griffith show plots for you than I really should, with names like Thelma Lou and Otis and Goober and Gomer and the Darling Family, but maybe we can reminisce over such things, as we used to say, on down the road. But for all the kind characters I enjoyed in those reruns that brought my whole family together around supper time, there was no greater giant than Sheriff Taylor, the gentlest patriarch and friend to all. I celebrate the work of this fine actor, and join you in a wistful tear, for while never will we see his like again, there's something in Mayberry that deserves to live forever. So, "in the sweet bye-and-bye," then, Mr. Griffith.
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