Gimbal picked up the tuxedo jacket and turned it inside out, rummaging through the pockets on the inside. There were quite a few of them, mostly made by Gimbal himself. There were pockets under the lapels and in the sleeves all the way up to the elbow, and eight or nine pockets on each side–Gimbal had lost count a log time ago–that were sewn in with such skill that, unless you had sewn them yourself, you could never find them. Gimbal picked through seven pockets before he found what he was looking for: a cigarette case. It was gold and incredibly thin, with AGW etched onto one side, and a rather elaborately etching on the opposite side of a gloved hand holding forth an ace of spades. Gimbal twirled it in his hand, it glittered in the dim light of the dressing room. The once-sharp edges were worn almost smooth, and tiny scratches scattered across the surface. A good deal of the case, around the hinges and front, was tarnishing. Gimbal popped it open and took out a slightly flattened cigarette. Four more pockets and he produced a lighter.
Tell me that doesn't sound like old hat, like a dime-a-dozen description. I'm worried about it! And the thing is, at the same time, I know that it's really okay, and that my style of writing still has some originality to it, I'm just so used to, well, myself that I find it boring, and I can't write in any other way because, in truth, I'm just not that good at being en pointe all the time.
Of course, I have to be fair and say that in those moments of inspired prose, I can't write much more than 2,500 words, and that's the completed story. I can't keep up such heavy pacing for anything longer or it starts to get tiring or just fades out, and I don't care.
Ah, well. I do what I can, right?
In other news, I saw Iron Man today, and yes, Robert Downey, Jr. was wonderful. Yes, Gwenyth Paltrow was somehow tolerable and, actually, cute. Yes, Terrence Howard was thrown in there for no apparent reason but to make a cheap War Machine reference, yes, Jeff Bridges totally phoned in the Bad Guy Character Acting With The Weird Facial Hair. Yes, the special effects were perfect. Yes, they handled the comic-to-movie adaptation well. No, it was not worth sitting through the entire credits sequence just to watch Samuel L. Jackson in full-on Nick Fury garb say the word "Avenger". No, it will not end up being better than The Dark Night, just like how Spider-Man was not better than Batman Begins.
I might be the only person who thinks this, but I have never bought the Marvel Comics canonical characters (mainly the ones Stan Lee created: Spider-Man, X-Men, Fantastic Four, Captain America, Iron Man, Hulk, Darevdevil). Maybe it has to do with me growing up with DC (though to be fair, this generally means "Batman", and I don't have the complete expertise that I'm sure countless other people have, don't shoot me), but I always thought that the Marvel heroes were a tad wimpy, hiding behind their sob stories (waah, my uncle died, waah, I'm persecuted for being different, waah, when I get angry I turn green and smash things, waah, I'm a rock-person, waah, I'm blind, waah, I don't want to be the Silver Surfer) and relied too much on them (people refer to it as "humanity", but I call it "the easy way to get sympathy") instead of creating solid, interesting characters, settings, arcs, and so on. DC heroes are born out of death, man. How does Superman come to Earth? His planet dies. How does Bruce Wayne become Batman? He watches his parents get killed in front of him. Wonder Woman was exiled for loving a mortal man. The Martian Manhunter is the last Martian because he watched all the other ones die including his wife and daughter. Not only that, but DC heroes seem to have a lot of smarts among them. Batman, Elongated Man, the Martian Manhunter, The Question, The Sandman, all are brilliant detectives who seem to be smarter than the entire FBI put together.
One thing that I've always loved about the DC universe is that it is just that: a universe set apart from ours, that reflects certain elements but keeps the rest to itself. This universe is full of places that we don't have: Gotham, Metropolis, Star City, Central City, so on and so on. What does Marvel do? Set everything in New York. Why? Sympathy, man. Look, this hero is in a real place, he's just like you and me! Shut the fuck up, Stan Lee. I would take Gotham City over New York any time.
Anyway, my brother and I got into an argument on the way home about whether or not Batman Begins was a good movie. To which I reply, HA. Of course it was good. My brother's not that smart.
To be fair, I never got the Fourth World stuff from DC. But then again, Jack Kirby was always a little out of it.
Oh, and DC Comics publishes Vertigo, which printed Sandman, Watchmen, Constantine, Fables, and a whole bunch of other great titles that I can't remember right now, because I'm tired.
No comments:
Post a Comment