I was never into comic books. At school, the kids I knew who read comics were the same that liked heavy metal, magic and role playing. They drew swords and monsters in their notebooks and debated which would win in a fight; a griffin or a sphinx. Though I’d never read any comics, given the polarity of our interests, I assumed they were for “them,” not for me.
I watched the cartoons, Batman, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, X-Men, without even realizing there was a comic book form for these heroes. I received some hand me down X-Men comic books and trading cards from an older boy in the neighborhood. My brother and I gleamed enough of the books to figure out what each character’s special powers were, then held epic battles using the trading cards as if they were action figures.
Comics always seemed like an icon of my father’s youth. Along with wooden spinning tops, toy trains, newspaper sailboats, and those hoops you push with a stick, comic books seemed to be seemed to be another common answer to the question, “what do little boys like?” which I had never actually owned, or even imagined I would enjoy. They seemed dated and ancient. I sort of figured they’d all been drawn in the fifties and weren’t printed anymore.
When Hollywood couldn’t thank of anymore ways to remake Shakespeare and started adapting comics into film, I didn’t know who half the superheroes were. The Watchmen trailers looked badass, but I expected just a lot of well-choreographed violence and expensive special effects. When I saw the movie, I wasn’t prepared for the psychological complexity and intense ethics of it.
Of course, I was used to directors’ take on action heroes, I still wasn’t sure how the books themselves would hold up. Reading Kingdom Come, I was impressed with the beauty of the graphics, and between the Book of Revelation story frame and the avant-garde nature of the superheroes questioning their own relevance, I approved. I knew enough about the main characters, like Superman and Batman, to have a firm basis, and I had at least heard of some of the supporting cast, but for the majority of the characters I was completely out of the loop. I’m sure there are plenty of nuances and references that I missed because of my unfamiliarity.
In written form, the Watchmen, I was glad to learn, was pretty much exactly as the movie said it was. Better even. Rorschach was even more psychotic and unbendingly moral than the filmmakers were apparently comfortable portraying. I loved the essays and excerpts between chapters giving more in-depth insight into their world. The hundreds of connections, events mirrored in the pirate comic, minor characters interacting with each other on the street, references to Veidt products, different perspectives on the same events by different characters, none of that came across as well in the movie as they did in the book. It’s complex. It’s enlightening. It’s literature.
Who knew?
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Algernon For Flowers
April 2nd, 2009.
My girlfriend bought me this journal as a birthday gift. I’ve never been one to keep a journal, but I figure I might as well give it a try. Okay, where do I begin?
Well, I work as a security guard for Syntech Laboratories. It’s a pretty sweet job. I don’t really have to do much, and I get free room and board. Me and the other guards take shifts at the guard booth at the front and rear gates, but really it seems that there are a lot more guards than necessary. No one ever tries to get in and steal formulas or whatever. Sometime the other guards and I joke that we’re not really here to make sure no one gets in, but to make sure nothing gets out.
My buddy Bill got me this job. We’ve been friends since high school. He was always smart, and now he’s one of the top research scientists here at Syntech. I’ve never done very well in school, but he got me this guard position, and I’m grateful.
I don’t really know what Bill and the other scientists do here. I think they’re inventing some new drug that makes people live longer or something. Bill says the tests on the rats have gone remarkably well, and now they’re beginning human trails. While I was in the guard booth yesterday, one of the head researchers brought two vans full of volunteers through the gates to the dormitories.
April 5th.
You know, this is a nice little journal Amanda bought me. There’s something appealing about the bright red cover. If it were on a bookshelf full of other books, this is the one I would pick out randomly to leaf through, because it just seems to stick out for some reason. I’ll probably just leave it lying on my bed though, or better yet, just open on my desk.
I had lunch with Bill today. He was upset about the research. Apparently the rats have started acting strangely. He said they never sleep anymore, and are always hungry for meat. He seemed a little worried about the drug and said Syntech shouldn’t have started human trials so quickly. I told him a big company like Syntech must know what they’re doing.
April 7th.
There was a riot today in the dormitories. The volunteers all started going crazy. They started moaning and trying to bite and claw at people. A code red was called, and all of us security guards had to run down there to handle the situation. It was quite a fight, though. Those volunteers had a deranged look in their eyes. We told them to stop, but it didn’t seem like they even heard us. They just kept moaning and walking towards us slowly. We had to push them back and lock them in the dormitory building. It wasn’t easy though, a few guards and scientists got bitten in the process. What the hell? Who bites?
We got all the volunteers trapped in the dormitories, but Syntech didn’t seem to think that was enough. They completely closed off the complex. No one is allowed in or out. They even cut all the phone lines. Amanda’s going to be worried sick about me. I wish I could at least let her know what’s going on.
April 8th.
I had lunch with Bill today. He seemed really worried. One of the volunteers had bitten him on the arm yesterday. He showed it to me. It looked all purple and puss-filled, but he told me not to tell anyone about it. I tried to tell him that he should go to the medic, and it would be alright, but he scoffed at me and said I had no idea what’s really going on here.
April 9th.
It’s been pretty boring around here lately, since we can’t leave the complex or even talk to the outside world. The volunteers are still locked in their dormitory. If you go near the doors or windows, you can hear them moaning and dragging their feet around. I tried hanging out with Bill, but he just wants to sit around in his room.
Out of boredom, I went back and read the past entries I’ve written in this journal. You’d think I’d have more intimate things to write about, like my dreams and desires, or perspectives on society. Maybe I would write about my relationship with Amanda, strained by the separation imposed by Syntech. But no, even though a journal is supposed to be an exploration of my innermost thoughts, so far all I have deemed worthy to write about are a couple of random incidents which I see no connection between. Hmm, strange. Maybe if someone were to find this journal after I’m dead they would be able to make some sense of the events told within it.
April 10th.
I saw Bill in the cafeteria today, but when I said “hi” he completely ignored me. I wonder if he’s mad at me. People are really sick of being locked in the complex. Some of the guards and scientists are starting to gather together and groan about how much it sucks, but Syntech has people outside the perimeter making sure none of us try to escape.
I’m really starting to wonder what Syntech is… Wait, what’s that? There’s a pounding at my door. It sounds like someone’s trying to claw their way in. Oh my God, someone just smashed my door in. It’s Bill! He’s walking towards me with his arms held out. Why am I still writing in my journal? Shouldn’t I be defending myself in some way?
Oh God, that was crazy. Bill just broke down my door and came after me. I asked him what he was doing, but it was like he wasn’t even there. He was like an animal. I told him to stop but he kept coming. I held out my arms to stop him, and he bit my hand. I pushed him back and told him to stop but he kept coming. I shot him in the leg, but it didn’t even phase him. Finally I had to shot him in the head, twice. I dragged his body into the hall and barricaded myself in my room by pushing all of my furniture in front of the doorway. What the Hell is going on here?
April 11th.
I’ve been locked away alone in my room all day. I’ve heard the sounds of people shuffling past in the hallway, but no one’s tried to come in my room yet. I really miss Amanda. I want to get out of here. I was hungry this morning, but as the day went on I’ve found myself less and less interested in food, though some fresh meat would be nice.
It’s been a long day, and I’ve been wondering whether Bill and the volunteers represent the fear that outsiders will ruin my sheltered sense of reality, or that my own community will deteriorate when stressed. On the one hand, everything seemed to be going fine until they brought in those vans full of volunteers, but on the other hand, I’ve known Bill for a long time and he totally flipped out when the shit hit the fan. But then, who really cares? I’m trapped not only within this complex, but also shut off in my room because everyone’s gone crazy, and this bite mark on my hand really looks infected. This sucks.
April 12th.
I’m lonely. Meat sounds really good. I want meat. Uuuungh. Meeeat. Give me meeeeat.
What is happening to me? I just want meat. Fresh meeeat. I would literally eat a horse right now. I wouldn’t even cook it. I would just take bites out of it while it was still alive. Yummmm. Meeeat.
April 13th.
So lonely. So hungry. Meeeat. Braaaains. Why do I still write? Shouldn’t I be unable to by now? Uuungh.
April 14th.
Uuungh. Braaains.
My girlfriend bought me this journal as a birthday gift. I’ve never been one to keep a journal, but I figure I might as well give it a try. Okay, where do I begin?
Well, I work as a security guard for Syntech Laboratories. It’s a pretty sweet job. I don’t really have to do much, and I get free room and board. Me and the other guards take shifts at the guard booth at the front and rear gates, but really it seems that there are a lot more guards than necessary. No one ever tries to get in and steal formulas or whatever. Sometime the other guards and I joke that we’re not really here to make sure no one gets in, but to make sure nothing gets out.
My buddy Bill got me this job. We’ve been friends since high school. He was always smart, and now he’s one of the top research scientists here at Syntech. I’ve never done very well in school, but he got me this guard position, and I’m grateful.
I don’t really know what Bill and the other scientists do here. I think they’re inventing some new drug that makes people live longer or something. Bill says the tests on the rats have gone remarkably well, and now they’re beginning human trails. While I was in the guard booth yesterday, one of the head researchers brought two vans full of volunteers through the gates to the dormitories.
April 5th.
You know, this is a nice little journal Amanda bought me. There’s something appealing about the bright red cover. If it were on a bookshelf full of other books, this is the one I would pick out randomly to leaf through, because it just seems to stick out for some reason. I’ll probably just leave it lying on my bed though, or better yet, just open on my desk.
I had lunch with Bill today. He was upset about the research. Apparently the rats have started acting strangely. He said they never sleep anymore, and are always hungry for meat. He seemed a little worried about the drug and said Syntech shouldn’t have started human trials so quickly. I told him a big company like Syntech must know what they’re doing.
April 7th.
There was a riot today in the dormitories. The volunteers all started going crazy. They started moaning and trying to bite and claw at people. A code red was called, and all of us security guards had to run down there to handle the situation. It was quite a fight, though. Those volunteers had a deranged look in their eyes. We told them to stop, but it didn’t seem like they even heard us. They just kept moaning and walking towards us slowly. We had to push them back and lock them in the dormitory building. It wasn’t easy though, a few guards and scientists got bitten in the process. What the hell? Who bites?
We got all the volunteers trapped in the dormitories, but Syntech didn’t seem to think that was enough. They completely closed off the complex. No one is allowed in or out. They even cut all the phone lines. Amanda’s going to be worried sick about me. I wish I could at least let her know what’s going on.
April 8th.
I had lunch with Bill today. He seemed really worried. One of the volunteers had bitten him on the arm yesterday. He showed it to me. It looked all purple and puss-filled, but he told me not to tell anyone about it. I tried to tell him that he should go to the medic, and it would be alright, but he scoffed at me and said I had no idea what’s really going on here.
April 9th.
It’s been pretty boring around here lately, since we can’t leave the complex or even talk to the outside world. The volunteers are still locked in their dormitory. If you go near the doors or windows, you can hear them moaning and dragging their feet around. I tried hanging out with Bill, but he just wants to sit around in his room.
Out of boredom, I went back and read the past entries I’ve written in this journal. You’d think I’d have more intimate things to write about, like my dreams and desires, or perspectives on society. Maybe I would write about my relationship with Amanda, strained by the separation imposed by Syntech. But no, even though a journal is supposed to be an exploration of my innermost thoughts, so far all I have deemed worthy to write about are a couple of random incidents which I see no connection between. Hmm, strange. Maybe if someone were to find this journal after I’m dead they would be able to make some sense of the events told within it.
April 10th.
I saw Bill in the cafeteria today, but when I said “hi” he completely ignored me. I wonder if he’s mad at me. People are really sick of being locked in the complex. Some of the guards and scientists are starting to gather together and groan about how much it sucks, but Syntech has people outside the perimeter making sure none of us try to escape.
I’m really starting to wonder what Syntech is… Wait, what’s that? There’s a pounding at my door. It sounds like someone’s trying to claw their way in. Oh my God, someone just smashed my door in. It’s Bill! He’s walking towards me with his arms held out. Why am I still writing in my journal? Shouldn’t I be defending myself in some way?
Oh God, that was crazy. Bill just broke down my door and came after me. I asked him what he was doing, but it was like he wasn’t even there. He was like an animal. I told him to stop but he kept coming. I held out my arms to stop him, and he bit my hand. I pushed him back and told him to stop but he kept coming. I shot him in the leg, but it didn’t even phase him. Finally I had to shot him in the head, twice. I dragged his body into the hall and barricaded myself in my room by pushing all of my furniture in front of the doorway. What the Hell is going on here?
April 11th.
I’ve been locked away alone in my room all day. I’ve heard the sounds of people shuffling past in the hallway, but no one’s tried to come in my room yet. I really miss Amanda. I want to get out of here. I was hungry this morning, but as the day went on I’ve found myself less and less interested in food, though some fresh meat would be nice.
It’s been a long day, and I’ve been wondering whether Bill and the volunteers represent the fear that outsiders will ruin my sheltered sense of reality, or that my own community will deteriorate when stressed. On the one hand, everything seemed to be going fine until they brought in those vans full of volunteers, but on the other hand, I’ve known Bill for a long time and he totally flipped out when the shit hit the fan. But then, who really cares? I’m trapped not only within this complex, but also shut off in my room because everyone’s gone crazy, and this bite mark on my hand really looks infected. This sucks.
April 12th.
I’m lonely. Meat sounds really good. I want meat. Uuuungh. Meeeat. Give me meeeeat.
What is happening to me? I just want meat. Fresh meeeat. I would literally eat a horse right now. I wouldn’t even cook it. I would just take bites out of it while it was still alive. Yummmm. Meeeat.
April 13th.
So lonely. So hungry. Meeeat. Braaaains. Why do I still write? Shouldn’t I be unable to by now? Uuungh.
April 14th.
Uuungh. Braaains.
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