Category Archives: My Thoughts

Chuck Palahniuk Gives Us The Sequel to Fight Club… As a Graphic Novel?

by Christopher Margolin

Earlier this week, Chuck Palahniuk announced that his sequel to Fight Club will come out as a graphic novel. Now, I should say two things prior to really getting into this post: I feel as if Fight Club is one of Palahniuk’s weaker books (my favorite is Lullaby), and I do not get the graphic novel genre. Regardless on my thoughts about FC being one of the few movies that are better than the book, I feel like I’m getting ripped off by getting a graphic novel version of a sequel. The book itself left so many unanswered questions, and so many avenues with which to continue the plot line, and more importantly, was so insanely visual, that I think to release an actual visual version of a sequel is doing a disservice to the reader. I think it’s taking away from the reading experience. What about the visuals that I set up in my head for each of the characters, and all of the scenery – yes, I realize that much of that is now jaded by the movie I’ve watched hundreds of times.

Even if Fight Club is not one of my favorite CP novels, it doesn’t mean that I don’t thoroughly enjoy it. It doesn’t mean that I don’t own several different editions of it, and it doesn’t mean that I was thrilled by the announcement of a sequel. But to give me a graphic novel feels like an easy way out.

I should probably also admit that I don’t like comic books. I don’t enjoy superheroes – though there is no doubt that Batman movies are all awesome, no matter who is playing the role, but most of them are awesome because of the villains. I was never a kid who raced out to spend my money on comic books, because there were SE Hinton books to read instead, and I much prefer realism to coloring books with words. Frankly, just give me the words, or make it into a movie, but don’t put them together. I was never the kid who jumped to the pictures in children’s books, and the funny section in the newspaper was only used when I had silly putty (if you’re too young to know what I’m talking about, then please go to a toy store, and figure it out).

Part of me is sad because I feel as if the last few Palahniuk books have been a bit weak, and really rushed. I think he jumped the shark around Damned, and I’m definitely not excited that Doomed is coming out as its sequel. Rant and Snuff were strong, and Pygmy was just odd in all the best ways. Then he released Invisible Monsters Redux, which was frustrating because I felt the original story was incredible, and it didn’t need anything more. I miss the dark, sardonic, angry, and yet poignant version of CP, and I just feel like a graphic novel doesn’t quite do that for me.

Will I still read it? Yes. And hopefully I’ll enjoy it. I’m just not very excited for it, and that’s an odd feeling when it comes to one of his books.

Anyone else with me on this?

About these ads

I’ve stopped wearing big coats.

by Hector Lopez

Throughout middle school, I used to think that the diary of a wimpy kid was an autobiography of my life. You see, back in those confusing days, my stride was longer than it needed to be, and my knuckles dragged through the hallways of cascade middle school, releasing sparks that ignited the rocket ship of my insecurities. I spent too much time obsessing over other people’s opinions instead of my own. I don’t know when, but there has to be a time in every teenager’s life when when they realize that there is no friction on the slippery slopes of other people’s judgments.

During the dreaded middle school years, I went to great lengths to cover up the fact that I was pushing 100 pounds, and the fact that my body could be used as a toothpick for a dinosaur. When winter rolled around, I would wear thick jackets to hide my Nicole Ritchie figure.

At some point, we have to stop moving through life like every surface we walk on is our great grandma’s 1800′s set of creaking stairs. Our stride sets off fire works, mortars painting the sky with our irreplaceable beauty. We are unique. We are sexy. I believe that our perfections should be equal to our imperfections. There’s no one alive who is more like you than yourself. Embrace the flaws you were bestowed with, because they make you royalty.

In my teenage years, I’ve witnessed the faces in the hallways become darker and darker. Kids consumed by themselves; kids who force themselves to think that they’re not strong enough, or pretty enough. But what you can’t see, is that these flaws that make you YOU, are displayed under glass cases because there’s nothing more damn gorgeous and powerful than ourselves, and that’s why it seems that strength and beauty are just other words for identity. And when you were born, you were a tidal wave, a wave so intimidating that the future built a levee 50 feet high to prepare itself. Believe me when i say that the only thing that’s “ugly,” is the self pity, and your were not built for self pity, you were built to falcon punch life with self-confidence – remember that. The good thing about imperfections, is that they stay with you forever; constant reminders that your recipe has some odd ingredients, but are still as tasty as the other ones. You are a machine, but worry less about the cogs, and more about the power you’re producing.

The Daily Prompt – July 24th – Please Shut Up.

by Christopher Margolin

Rules:

1. Use the prompt in the way it’s intended (starting a sentence, the title of the piece, theme, etc)

2. You may write in any format you see fit (fiction, non-fiction, poem, song, script, etc.)

3. Post your piece of writing in the comments section of the website to be considered for the ‘Best Of’ section.

The Prompt-

You are talking to the most annoying person in the world, and they just don’t stop yammering. What’s your best way out of the situation?

Robert Browning – Killing For Pleasure, and Poetry.

by Christopher Margolin

When it comes to poetry of the 19th century, there is no one, for me, who comes close to the dark and powerful approach of Robert Browning. Between “Porphyria’s Lover,” and “My Last Duchess,” his control over the dramatic monologue was far beyond the reach of any other poet – maybe since Shakespeare. If you’ve never read any of his work before, please take a look below at “My Last Duchess,” and let me know what you think. Definitely give it a few reads, and allow it to sink in a bit before commenting. Enjoy!

“My Last Duchess”

– Robert Browning

THAT’S my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said 5
“Frà Pandolf” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) 10
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, ’twas not
Her husband’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into the Duchess’ cheek: perhaps 15
Frà Pandolf chanced to say, “Her mantle laps
Over my lady’s wrist too much,” or “Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along her throat:” such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough 20
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart—how shall I say?—too soon made glad.
Too easily impressed: she liked whate’er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, ’twas all one! My favor at her breast, 25
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some officious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace—all and each
Would draw from her alike the approving speech, 30
Or blush, at least. She thanked men,—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if she ranked
My gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill 35
In speech—(which I have not)—to make your will
Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let
Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set 40
Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse,
—E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed her; but who passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; 45
Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet
The company below, then. I repeat,
The Count your master’s known munificence
Is ample warrant that no just pretence 50
Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed
At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go
Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, 55
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

Ethylene Gas in the Office.

by Shane Carter

bad-apple

We’ve all heard the term “one bad apple spoils the bunch,” or some closely related piece of knowledge. It is basically supposed to mean that one person can bring a group down. Now is that true?

Is the bad apple just a bad influence? The influence of one strong-willed, charismatic person can surely be felt in any group situation. Think back to the time your friend convinced 12 others to jump off a bridge, just by assuring them of its “safety” and that there’s totally no rocks down there because “I saw my uncle do it”. These alpha males and lionesses could convince a Rabbi to eat a BLT and they could get the Jamestown survivors to drink a tall glass of Flavor-Aid. This phrase reminds me of a certain ’40′s era German art school drop out, he was a great public speaker and led Europe to near destruction, while being a small-statured and unattractive amphetamine junkie. Persuasion is strong, especially among young people, the urge to be accepted is second only to the urge to swap fluids. The art of persuasion can create the most catastrophic masterpieces, crafted with brushes made of dignity and morals and laid on a canvas of shame.

Or is the bad apple a bad representation of the group? A team is only as strong as its weakest member, and is often defined by them. A wolf pack won’t be very successful if there is one wolf who always howls when they are trying to sneak up on their prey; it is just like the coworker who is late to every meeting and is always misplacing important documents. This person is the kid who didn’t do their part in the health class presentation in high school, they are the girl who can’t get her timing down on the cheer squad, the guy on the football team who never memorizes the plays.

Rotting apples release ethylene gas, which in turn spoils the apples in its vicinity. Rotten apples need to be tossed out of the bunch, before the ethylene ruins the rest.

Are Country and Blues Music Still at the “Heart” of America?

by Christopher Margolin

The early 1900′s were defined by the music of Robert Johnson, Blind Lemon Jefferson, Charlie Patton, Memphis Minnie, Woody Guthrie, Hank Williams, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Bob Wills. But it’s no longer the 1900′s, so do those artists still represent the modern heart of the American people? Their lyrics cut to the visceral soul of the poor to working class person, and while the same socio-economic classes exist, there has been a mass cultural change in America’s population, and it seems that hip hop has become the new heart.

From Public Enemy and Afrika Bambaataa to Talib Kweli, Mos Def, Common, Jay Z, Kanye West, Brother Ali, and even newcomers like Joey Bada$$, Chance the Rapper, and Kendrick Lamar, the landscape is changing – not the message necessarily, but the landscape. These artists are speaking to the new generation about the same politics, the same race issues, class issues, social issues, sexual issues, murder, judgement, economy, and the same “take the power back” type pride that those before them came to preach, but it seems to make more sense.

It’s the difference between reading book like The Odyssey, and something more contemporary like On the Road . Both cover topics of the search to find oneself, but the current generation relates more to the latter than the former. The Odyssey will always be a brilliant and beautiful story, but the newer generation doesn’t always want to read the dictionary while sifting through the pages. On the Road deals with sex, and drugs, and the experience of everything new, including failures and depression, but it can be read, and felt, and most importantly, understood by a newer crowd – obviously it’s still an older book, but the language allows it to feel more comfortable to a newer reader.

No, not everyone will take on hip hop as the new heart of America, but it at least needs to be discussed. I take nothing away from the original masters, but as the cultural landscape of America changes, a new “heart” must be recognized.

Squeezing Out the Best Writing

by Christopher Margolin

Picture yourself on a public toilet. You’re in the middle of pushing one out, and all the sudden something hits you – not the dirty water, but rather a thought. It’s the best thought you’ve had in days, but you don’t have a notebook with you, you left your phone in your satchel, or purse, or dorm room, or bar, or table, or wherever, but you have a sharpie in your pocket, and if you don’t write down the lines in your head, you will  forget them. You can’t lose the gem, and you can’t get up quite yet. What do you do?

Well, in college, I used to take advantage of this scenario on a daily basis. I don’t like public bathrooms. I’m like Finch in American Pie – a public restroom can be crippling to my psyche. So, in order to cope with this, I typically search for the hidden gem. At Pacific University, my hidden gem was in the basement of the student center. It was a fairly unused, and unknown restroom, and it was the easiest place to go if I was simply roaming around the campus. The bathroom was cleaned once a day in the late evening, and that meant a bit of peace and quiet to do two things: take care of business, and write on the back of the stall with an overhead pen.

I didn’t have texting capabilities on my cell phone for my first couple of years in college, nor did I really understand the technology behind writing notes on my phone. But what I did know was that I could graffiti lines of poetry on the bathroom stall, finish up my task, wash my hands, race back to my dorm room, then back to the restroom, write down the lines, and then move on, knowing that the cleaning crew would have an easy time spraying it down and clearing away the evidence by the end of the night – just in time for another bathroom writing session the next day.

We all write in odd places; the bathroom was simply one of my many stops during the day. I’ve always been curious as to what the cleaning crew thought, or if others sat down to read my daily scribbles. Either way, I didn’t lose my thoughts, and it was a good place to sit, think, and get some work done before someone else wiped it away.

Yeezus Christ and the Magna Carta Holy Grail

by Alex Dang!

388414_original

Regardless of what you think or feel about Kanye West and Jay-Z, you cannot deny the fact that these are two talented men. Sure, you can think that Kanye has such an ego and a big head that he could resemble a Mii or that Jay-Z has reached the age where he could be boasting about retirement funds, but what we all know in is that these two musicians are innovating the Hip Hop game in ways that make a young teenager excited for what’s to come next. Kanye and Jay have released two albums almost back to back and the way they do it is some sort of genius. Yeezus and Magna Carta Holy Grail is their bold announcement to the world saying, “We’re on top! Yet we still rise.”

The special thing about these albums is that they both cover similar ground lyrically and content wise: commentary on society, vulnerability, bravado. But notice how Yeezus lacks the normal fanfare and orchestral sounds that Mr. West has given us. Yeezus is stripped down, rugged, raw, and minimal. The album art, lack of singles on the radio and Ye’s SNL performance is evidence that Yeezus is a gritty and angry album.

Then on the other side of things you have MCHG, which gets a lot more vulnerable than Jay is used to. We hear about his worries of fatherhood and his adapting views on the world he lives in. In “Oceans,” he writes an extremely charged song about his success as a black man while making references to how African-Americans were once treated in a world long ago. He takes on the same topics that Kanye does in Yeezus but the sound of MCHG is grand. With a name like “Magna Carta Holy Grail” you expect nothing less than opulence and decadence.

We have Yeezus and MCHG that sound like complete opposites but that work beautifully in tandem together. Put them in a playlist together and you’ll see the rough, jagged screams of Kanye fit in well with the smooth signature Jay constantly gives us. These two albums that they have given us stand on their own individually and they stand parallel to each other as well.

This summer, it seems like The Throne has been split into two kingdoms, but they don’t wage war on each. Rather, they’re watching each other from a distance to see how much one king can conquer.

Too Early For a Good Bourbon, and a Writing Session?

by Christopher Margolin

1000854_10201531200103424_1053358636_n

It’s only 10 in the morning, but realistically, I’ve been up for several hours, and the bottle of Bulleit was sitting right there, and I’m trying to get some writing done, so I mean, why not?

We’ve talked a bit about vices on this site, and while a good glass of something oaky and brown is definitely mine, we’ve really yet to hear about yours?

We don’t typically do a Question of the Day on the weekend, but since it is the weekend, let’s talk about what gets your mind going.

When you head toward your zone of creativity, what helps you get there?

QOTD- What’s Your Best, Bad Work Story?

by Doran Simmons

Today, I am out of my element.

I’m covering the front desk at the company where I work. Those who know me personally will already be laughing; to say I’m unsuitable for work as a receptionist is an understatement worthy of the driest, most deadpan wit.

Yet here I am.

And the only thing that’s getting me through is imagining the possibly hilarious, certainly humiliating, stories that I may be able to gather from this experience.

Everyone has had a crappy job. And I’m sure almost everyone has a funny story about that job.

What’s your best tale of minimum wage woe?