Today I have been mostly feeling like Robin and King Mob at the end of time in the Invisibles, and just digging the pure joy of a loving hug, in an eternal moment when nothing else matters. Nothing at all.
Sorry about the lack of any real content this month, everybody. It's not going to get much better next month, but rest assured, I love you all.
Today I have been mostly feeling like the Grand Galactic Inquisitor in Venture Bros, where I'm about to be left holding the baby and screaming IGNORE ME at a child that has absolutely no concern for my wants and needs, and will eat up all my energy and lifeforce, (which I give gladly because that's how parenting works).
The baby doesn't care about my grand plan to judge the world on all its great works, it just needs its damn nappy changed.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Don 'No Soul' Simmons - massively uncool and completely unashamed about it.
Today I have been mostly feeling like the immortal Faye Wong in Chungking Express and just cooling off, any way I can.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Megg in a Simon Hanselmann comic, at her most introspective, and I wish I could just on the sofa all day and stare into the eternal void. It's a nice way to unwind.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Walrus Man, particularly the Walrus Man who I flushed down the toilet once, giving myself my first ever solid dose of existential dread. This monstrosity has a bum where his mouth should be and the glaring eyes of someone who is well aware they are a tiny piece of fragile plastic that might get torn apart by the cruel god children of his universe. Either that, or someone just told him his real name is Ponda Baba.
Today I have been mostly feeling like this unfortunate ghoul in the orginal dawn of the Dead. I was closing in on a goal, getting things sorted and right on target, and then I go and stick my noggin into the blades of a helicopter.
I gotta say, even after thousands more zombie movies and TV shows, full of kills too numeous to count, this is still my all-time favourite.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Nancy, telling it like it is. She's all brutal honesty and doesn't care about anybody else's feelings - well, maybe Sluggo, even if she'll never admit it - and maybe we could all be a bit more open with each other. The mask helps.
Today I have been mostly feeling like James Brown in the best thing Tony Scott ever did, desperate to race the devil for a few more years in an advertisement for fancy automobiles I could never afford.
He only got four more years after that race. But that's something - and something is better than nothing - and beating the devil at his own game is a killer last-act play.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Tina in Border, too tired to be the monster the world wants her to be, and just wanting a bit of love instead. It's never much to ask.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Veronica, after finding out that the storyteller behind that heartbreaking film about working class folk trying so hard not to buckle under the relentless weight of modern hypercapitalism is an heir to a multi-billion dollar fortune, amassed by people who did very well out of that kind of exploitation.
A working class snob is something to be.
Today I have been mostly feeling like a young Jack Kirby on the streets of New York, hiding several universes of power and thrills behind that cigar-clenching smile, a force of pure energy that was always ready to unleash the most wonderful imagination in order to put food on the table for his family.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Rama at the end of The Raid 2. Nobody has ever punched me in the face, so the blood is only metaphorical. Then again, it always is.
Today I have been mostly feeling like this shining example of romance comics, speeding into the bright future with sunglasses that make him look like he's got a frog's eyes.
I don't know his name or where this image originally came from, but I'm going to call him Fred and assume that everything works out all right for Fred. Because with that kind of attitude, Fred has got to be a winner.
Unless my subconscious is screaming out, trying to get me to listen to it and understand the vast and hollow void at the heart of existence, and the only way the subconscious can express itself is in the form of daily blog posts mainly chosen because I really like the pictures.
But what does that arsehole know? Party on, dudes.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Lucy. If you thought the world was full of fools and liars like she does, you'd pull away that fucking football every single time too. You get your kicks where you can, Charlie Brown.
I... I gotta stop watching TV shows about American politics.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Danny Trejo at his most Trejo, beating down the scum of the world with the power of the scowl. You mess with this kind of Trejo and his scowl will be the last thing you ever see.
I... I gotta watch more Danny Trejo films.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Saavik, confident and cocky and ready to fly the Enterprise into the gates of hell, and looking fucking great in red.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Hi McDunnough, who was not prepared for the amount of baby he had to deal with. Nobody is prepared for that kind of shit, but you just gotta do the best you can, Hi.
Today I have been mostly feeling quite hopeful, that the bad times - when they come - will not last and that evil will not triumph. There is no proof that the world actually works out that way, but I have a certainty for optimism that is as heavy as the densest wood.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Lobo shoving some chump's leg down his own throat with all the ferocity and feralness that artist Cam Kennedy can muster, and all the raw anarchic pleasure that comes with that.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Worf, totally raging to let the inner beast out and feed on the blood of my enemies, but also recognising the absolute need for proper protocol at tea time.
Today I have been mostly feeling like Maggie in the latest issue of Love and Rockets, weighing up all the options before deciding to do the most Maggie thing of all, and not being a dick about anything. After the catastrophic first meeting between Tonta and Maggie in Jaime Hernandez's masterpiece of a comic, which left both of them a bit shattered, the second could have gone either way. But because Maggie makes the world better by just being a decent and honest person, they bond on the beach, with Tonta's youthful and flailing everything finding sympathy with Maggie's resigned wisdom. Tonta finally has a role model worth following, and there is no need to talk about apologies or anything, not when Maggie has lessons to share. Get that ankle looked at, Tonta.
Today I have been mostly feeling that I am tired of Earth. These people. I am tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.
Today I have been mostly feeling like the farmer in the Te Puke Thunder film from the classic early 2000s NZ TV show Back Of The Y, lost in the woods and high as fuck, and about to blow off my bloody face with my own booby trap.
Today I am feeling as smug and self-assured as the beautiful Val Kilmer in Top Gun, after I figured out at the last minute a way to keep the content coming on the Tearoom of Despair for the next unfathomably busy month, with a bare minimum of effort. Sorry about that, everyone.
(June is probably fucked too, and will be about as satisfying as getting a new Fantastic Four comic in the 90s, and finding out it's just a reprint of one you've already got, under a new cover. But we'll deal with that when we get there.)
