I've just posted a bunch of old work recovered from old Myspace blog posts. After losing so many writing sites I hope that this will now be the definitive place to store and read all my work.
Here are the Comicbook Rockstar posts which I will be continuing as my career in comics develops.
Comicbook Rockstar
Here are the short stories that make up the superhero dating series TwentySix.
TwentySix
And here are just some random short stories that I really like:
Short Stories
I'll be focusing on some other older works I enjoy soon as I work on new scripts.
See what a mix of the old and new can produce.
K
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Star Wars: Jedi Battle Old School Script
Page 1
PANEL 1- Wide shot to show the entire city of a high tech futuristic world and atop a huge silver skyscraper (Even the flying cars don’t go this high) stand two men.
PANEL 2- Zoom in. One dressed in a dark cloak (Mal-Zey Kahnn) the other (Meh-Ran Kahnn) in his Jedi robes.
PANEL 3- Zoom in close behind Meh-Ran Kahnn. Shot from his waist with his lightsaber in the foreground and Mal-Zey Kahnn in the background. Both men hold unignited lightsabers in their hands.
PANEL 4- Similar shot from Meh-Ran Kahnn’s waist.
Page 2
PANEL 1- Shot of Meh-Ran Kahnn. A look of grim determination on his face.
MEH-RAN: Mal-Zey Kahnn! For atrocities committed against your kin and clan…
PANEL 2- Opposite of panel 1 shot of Mal-Zey Kahnn. Mal-Zey grins menacingly from beneath his hood. His smile is the only thing visible, and barely.
MAL-ZEY: What clan? They’re all dead…
PANEL 3- Back to Panel 1 shot of Meh-Ran.
MEH-RAN: And by the authority of the Jedi Council…
PANEL 4- Same as Panel 2.
MAL-ZEY: Don’t make me laugh. I know full well that they no longer support your vengeance-fueled quest to bring me in. Something about your methods…
PANEL 5- Same as panel 1 but now Meh-Ran is getting enraged.
MEH-RAN: I ORDER you to lay down your lightsaber and surrender yourself!
PANEL 6- Same as panel 2 but now with one hand Mal-Zey is pulling back the hood of his cloak.
MAL-ZEY: That’s not what you really want…you want to pry it from my cold, dead fingers…tell me, am I right…
Page 3
PANEL 1- Big panel shot of Mal-Zey with his hood thrown back. He looks almost identical to Meh-Ran with tribal tattoos around his eyes.
MAL-ZEY: Brother?
PANEL 2- Meh-Ran still enraged even further.
MEH-RAN: YOU ARE NO LONGER MY BROTHER! PREPARE YOUR SOULSELF! FOR NOW, YOU DIE!
PANEL 3- Wide shot similar to page 1 panel 3, pulled back just a bit to see Meh-Ran’s lightsaber ignite.
PANEL 4- Wide shot similar to page 1 panel 4, pulled back to see Mal-Zey’s lightsaber ignite as well.
Page 4
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran charges swinging his lightsaber.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey raises his lightsaber before him, but otherwise stands unmoving.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran slams his lightsaber down and Mal-Zey blocks it. This should be a huge panel. Emphasis on the sparks between their lightsabers.
Page 5
Short but fluid shots to give that quick kung fu quality of a lightsaber duel.
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey pushes Meh-Ran back a few steps.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey whips his lightsaber around and goes for a side shot.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran swings his lightsaber down and blocks it.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran whips his lightsaber up and swings for Mal-Zey’s neck. Mal-Zey’s lightsaber shoots up and blocks.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran swings his lightsaber around tries the same attack from the other side.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey blocks, knocking Meh-Ran’s lightsaber wide.
Page 6
More short, quick, and fluid shots.
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey thrusting his lightsaber, Meh-Ran flipping to the side.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey slams his lightsaber down and Meh-Ran backflips, barely avoiding it.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran leaps with an upward thrust meant for Mal-Zey’s head.
PANEL 4- Mal-Zey ducks and spins around and swings his lightsaber in an upward stroke just missing Meh-Ran and slicing some antennae and various arrays in half.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran brings his lightsaber around and swings low. Mal-Zey leaps in the air.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey lands atop a large rectangular device (like the massive air conditioners on top of buildings in NYC).
Page 7
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran stabs his lightsaber into the massive machine.
PANEL 2- Meh-Ran leaps into the air ripping the machine in two. Mal-Zey forward flips over Meh-Ran’s lightsaber’s arc.
PANEL 3- Mal-Zey lands in a defensive crouch with his back slightly turned towards Meh-Ran.
MAL-ZEY: Not bad, brother! If you fought like this back then maybe that wife and runt of yours would still be alive.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran has lost it. A berserker fury has taken over. He runs at Mal-Zey.
PANEL 5- The lightsabers slam together sparking.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey leans in close as they are pushing against each other’s lightsaber.
MAL-ZEY: That’s it brother, use that rage! Only by embracing the Dark Side will you destroy me!
Page 8
More fast and furious panels.
PANEL 1,2,3,4,5,6- Meh-Ran swings his lightsaber around. Meh-Ran lets loose with a barrage of strong blows. Mal-Zey blocks most with no problem, but the last few get a little closer than he’d like. Mal-Zey is backing up, the edge of the building is getting closer. The winds are getting fiercer as well.
Page 9
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey is blocking and looking a little nervous. He’s very close to the edge.
MEH-RAN: What’s the matter, brother?
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey is right on the edge now.
MEH-RAN: May your soulself burn in the Eternal Fires of Saizu!
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran swings his lightsaber down about to cut Mal-Zey down, or at least knock him from the building.
PANEL 4- Mal-Zey dives and rolls to Meh-Ran’s left.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran is in mid arc as Mal-Zey brings his lightsaber around. He is aiming for Meh-Ran’s forearm.
Page 10
PANEL 1- Huge panel of Meh-Ran’s lightsaber arm being sliced in two by the elbow. Meh-Ran is holding back the pain.
PANEL 2- Shot close up of Meh-Ran’s arm holding the lightsaber as it plummets over the side of the building. It should be miles upon miles to the ground. We shouldn’t even see the ground.
PANEL 3- Close up of Meh-Ran’s face. Pain, rage, and fear.
PANEL 4- Shot of Mal-Zey with his lightsaber still ignited, chuckling to himself.
PANEL 5- Shot of the arm and lightsaber a little further than before.
PANEL 6- Full shot of Meh-Ran turning to his right to face Mal-Zey. He is extending his left arm.
Page 11
PANEL 1- Shot of the lightsaber being ripped free from Meh-Ran’s lost arm and flying through the air.
PANEL 2- Shot of Mal-Zey chuckling again, with his lightsaber raised about to strike.
PANEL 3- Close shot of Meh-Ran’s lightsaber flying up into his left hand.
PANEL 4- Huge panel of Meh-Ran slicing a gash across Mal-Zey’s chest. Mal-Zey is very surprised, to say the least.
Page 12
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey looks up and he is pissed off. But he is also smirking.
MAL-ZEY: My, my, brother…I didn’t know you had it in you to be so…brutal. I like it.
PANEL 2- Meh-Ran readies for another strike to end this.
PANEL 3- Mal-Zey throws his hand forward.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran is slammed backwards off the side of the building.
PANEL 5- Downwards shot of Meh-Ran falling backwards.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey readies himself and leaps off the side off the building.
MAL-ZEY: WAIT FOR ME BROTHER!
Page 13
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey drops through the air feet first, streamlining his body, to catch up to Meh-Ran. Lightsaber still ignited.
PANEL 2- Side shot of Meh-Ran flailing through the air and Mal-Zey catching up as they plummet down the building past domed catwalks filled with surprised onlookers.
PANEL 3- Mal-Zey turns his body to catch the wind to slow himself, and attacks with his lightsaber.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran blocks the blow with his lightsaber.
PANEL 5- The two men spin through the air while swinging their lightsabers wildly, blocking each other’s shots.
PANEL 6- Meh-Ran whips himself backward through the air.
Page 14
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran and Mal-Zey just miss a domed catwalk, each of them passing on either side.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey leans forward, shooting towards Meh-Ran, lightsaber stretched forward.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran curls up and spins over Mal-Zey’s head.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran uncurls, and lashes out with his lightsaber, Mal-Zey blocks.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran shoots his hand out, while still gripping his lightsaber.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey slams against the building, letting out a loud “Ooomph!”
Page 15
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran then points and shoots his hand upwards.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey is still woozy from the hit against the building. His lightsaber gets yanked free from his hand and flies upward.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran moves in close and grabs Mal-Zey. Meh-Ran holds his lightsaber just inches from Mal-Zey.
MEH-RAN: I will have my revenge before I die!
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran about to strike, suddenly looks very surprised, as does Mal-Zey.
Page 16
PANEL 1- Side shot of the two slamming into a passing flying car.
PANEL 2- The car is big enough so they didn’t damage it too bad, they just smashed into the roof. It stops flying and hovers.
PANEL 3- The two men are very woozy but are getting to their feet. An alien pops out of the roof hatch.
PANEL 4- Shot of the alien. He looks pissed off.
PANEL 5- Shot of the two men from the alien’s POV. They are broken, battered, and beaten and look very, very pissed off too.
PANEL 6- The alien mocking a whistle goes back into the hatch, sealing it behind him.
Page 17
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran turns back to Mal-Zey. He reignites his lightsaber and begins walking towards Mal-Zey. Mal-Zey is looking up, discretely.
MEH-RAN: Now, I finish this.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey holds his hand out.
PANEL 3- Shot of Mal-Zey’s lightsaber falling through the air.
PANEL 4- Huge panel of Mal-Zey, who, in one fluid motion caught his lightsaber and blocks Meh-Ran’s strike.
Page 18
PANEL 1,2,3,4,5,- Various shots of the lightsaber duel continuing atop the hovering car. Fast, furious, and just nasty fighting.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey tackles Meh-Ran and they drop off the car.
Page 19
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran is struggling with Mal-Zey as they fall.
PANEL 2- They continue to struggle as a catwalk is approaching fast.
PANEL 3- Big panel of them smashing through the roof and hitting the catwalk. No one is on this catwalk. Meh-Ran takes the brunt of the fall.
PANEL 4- The two men lay there unable to move for the moment.
Page 20
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey is scrambling as he lays flat against the ground for Meh-Ran’s lightsaber, which is just out of his reach. Meh-Ran sees what he is reaching for and pulls him back by his leg.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey is crawling towards it and Meh-Ran is dragging himself along using Mal-Zey’s robes.
PANEL 3- Closer and closer. Mal-Zey’s fingers are an inch away. Meh-Ran is almost lying next to Mal-Zey.
PANEL 4- Mal-Zey grips the lightsaber. Meh-Ran grabs Mal-Zey around the neck.
PANEL 5- Shot of the lightsaber igniting.
PANEL 6- Shot of a manic Meh-Ran as he SNAPS Mal-Zey’s neck.
Page 21
PANEL 1- Big panel of Meh-Ran pushing himself to his feet. The Mal-Zey corpse lies at his feet.
PANEL 2- Shot of Meh-Ran looking solemn and remorseful.
MEH-RAN: What have I done brother? What have I become? I am the true tragedy of our clan. I have let our legacy die in disgrace and hatred.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran picks up his lightsaber.
MEH-RAN: Forgive me my clan, forgive me Meh-Li, Meh-Bya…
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran looks distantly at Mal-Zey’s body.
MEH-RAN: Forgive me brother…I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save you this time.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran drops to his knees, lightsaber in hand.
Meh-Ran: May Tensou have mercy on my soulself.
Page 22
PANEL 1- Half page close shot of Meh-Ran driving his lightsaber into his stomach.
PANEL 2- The rest of the page is a far shot of the catwalk, centered on Meh-Ran lying dead on his side, next to Mal-Zey. Lightsaber unignited.
PANEL 1- Wide shot to show the entire city of a high tech futuristic world and atop a huge silver skyscraper (Even the flying cars don’t go this high) stand two men.
PANEL 2- Zoom in. One dressed in a dark cloak (Mal-Zey Kahnn) the other (Meh-Ran Kahnn) in his Jedi robes.
PANEL 3- Zoom in close behind Meh-Ran Kahnn. Shot from his waist with his lightsaber in the foreground and Mal-Zey Kahnn in the background. Both men hold unignited lightsabers in their hands.
PANEL 4- Similar shot from Meh-Ran Kahnn’s waist.
Page 2
PANEL 1- Shot of Meh-Ran Kahnn. A look of grim determination on his face.
MEH-RAN: Mal-Zey Kahnn! For atrocities committed against your kin and clan…
PANEL 2- Opposite of panel 1 shot of Mal-Zey Kahnn. Mal-Zey grins menacingly from beneath his hood. His smile is the only thing visible, and barely.
MAL-ZEY: What clan? They’re all dead…
PANEL 3- Back to Panel 1 shot of Meh-Ran.
MEH-RAN: And by the authority of the Jedi Council…
PANEL 4- Same as Panel 2.
MAL-ZEY: Don’t make me laugh. I know full well that they no longer support your vengeance-fueled quest to bring me in. Something about your methods…
PANEL 5- Same as panel 1 but now Meh-Ran is getting enraged.
MEH-RAN: I ORDER you to lay down your lightsaber and surrender yourself!
PANEL 6- Same as panel 2 but now with one hand Mal-Zey is pulling back the hood of his cloak.
MAL-ZEY: That’s not what you really want…you want to pry it from my cold, dead fingers…tell me, am I right…
Page 3
PANEL 1- Big panel shot of Mal-Zey with his hood thrown back. He looks almost identical to Meh-Ran with tribal tattoos around his eyes.
MAL-ZEY: Brother?
PANEL 2- Meh-Ran still enraged even further.
MEH-RAN: YOU ARE NO LONGER MY BROTHER! PREPARE YOUR SOULSELF! FOR NOW, YOU DIE!
PANEL 3- Wide shot similar to page 1 panel 3, pulled back just a bit to see Meh-Ran’s lightsaber ignite.
PANEL 4- Wide shot similar to page 1 panel 4, pulled back to see Mal-Zey’s lightsaber ignite as well.
Page 4
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran charges swinging his lightsaber.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey raises his lightsaber before him, but otherwise stands unmoving.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran slams his lightsaber down and Mal-Zey blocks it. This should be a huge panel. Emphasis on the sparks between their lightsabers.
Page 5
Short but fluid shots to give that quick kung fu quality of a lightsaber duel.
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey pushes Meh-Ran back a few steps.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey whips his lightsaber around and goes for a side shot.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran swings his lightsaber down and blocks it.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran whips his lightsaber up and swings for Mal-Zey’s neck. Mal-Zey’s lightsaber shoots up and blocks.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran swings his lightsaber around tries the same attack from the other side.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey blocks, knocking Meh-Ran’s lightsaber wide.
Page 6
More short, quick, and fluid shots.
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey thrusting his lightsaber, Meh-Ran flipping to the side.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey slams his lightsaber down and Meh-Ran backflips, barely avoiding it.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran leaps with an upward thrust meant for Mal-Zey’s head.
PANEL 4- Mal-Zey ducks and spins around and swings his lightsaber in an upward stroke just missing Meh-Ran and slicing some antennae and various arrays in half.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran brings his lightsaber around and swings low. Mal-Zey leaps in the air.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey lands atop a large rectangular device (like the massive air conditioners on top of buildings in NYC).
Page 7
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran stabs his lightsaber into the massive machine.
PANEL 2- Meh-Ran leaps into the air ripping the machine in two. Mal-Zey forward flips over Meh-Ran’s lightsaber’s arc.
PANEL 3- Mal-Zey lands in a defensive crouch with his back slightly turned towards Meh-Ran.
MAL-ZEY: Not bad, brother! If you fought like this back then maybe that wife and runt of yours would still be alive.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran has lost it. A berserker fury has taken over. He runs at Mal-Zey.
PANEL 5- The lightsabers slam together sparking.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey leans in close as they are pushing against each other’s lightsaber.
MAL-ZEY: That’s it brother, use that rage! Only by embracing the Dark Side will you destroy me!
Page 8
More fast and furious panels.
PANEL 1,2,3,4,5,6- Meh-Ran swings his lightsaber around. Meh-Ran lets loose with a barrage of strong blows. Mal-Zey blocks most with no problem, but the last few get a little closer than he’d like. Mal-Zey is backing up, the edge of the building is getting closer. The winds are getting fiercer as well.
Page 9
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey is blocking and looking a little nervous. He’s very close to the edge.
MEH-RAN: What’s the matter, brother?
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey is right on the edge now.
MEH-RAN: May your soulself burn in the Eternal Fires of Saizu!
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran swings his lightsaber down about to cut Mal-Zey down, or at least knock him from the building.
PANEL 4- Mal-Zey dives and rolls to Meh-Ran’s left.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran is in mid arc as Mal-Zey brings his lightsaber around. He is aiming for Meh-Ran’s forearm.
Page 10
PANEL 1- Huge panel of Meh-Ran’s lightsaber arm being sliced in two by the elbow. Meh-Ran is holding back the pain.
PANEL 2- Shot close up of Meh-Ran’s arm holding the lightsaber as it plummets over the side of the building. It should be miles upon miles to the ground. We shouldn’t even see the ground.
PANEL 3- Close up of Meh-Ran’s face. Pain, rage, and fear.
PANEL 4- Shot of Mal-Zey with his lightsaber still ignited, chuckling to himself.
PANEL 5- Shot of the arm and lightsaber a little further than before.
PANEL 6- Full shot of Meh-Ran turning to his right to face Mal-Zey. He is extending his left arm.
Page 11
PANEL 1- Shot of the lightsaber being ripped free from Meh-Ran’s lost arm and flying through the air.
PANEL 2- Shot of Mal-Zey chuckling again, with his lightsaber raised about to strike.
PANEL 3- Close shot of Meh-Ran’s lightsaber flying up into his left hand.
PANEL 4- Huge panel of Meh-Ran slicing a gash across Mal-Zey’s chest. Mal-Zey is very surprised, to say the least.
Page 12
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey looks up and he is pissed off. But he is also smirking.
MAL-ZEY: My, my, brother…I didn’t know you had it in you to be so…brutal. I like it.
PANEL 2- Meh-Ran readies for another strike to end this.
PANEL 3- Mal-Zey throws his hand forward.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran is slammed backwards off the side of the building.
PANEL 5- Downwards shot of Meh-Ran falling backwards.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey readies himself and leaps off the side off the building.
MAL-ZEY: WAIT FOR ME BROTHER!
Page 13
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey drops through the air feet first, streamlining his body, to catch up to Meh-Ran. Lightsaber still ignited.
PANEL 2- Side shot of Meh-Ran flailing through the air and Mal-Zey catching up as they plummet down the building past domed catwalks filled with surprised onlookers.
PANEL 3- Mal-Zey turns his body to catch the wind to slow himself, and attacks with his lightsaber.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran blocks the blow with his lightsaber.
PANEL 5- The two men spin through the air while swinging their lightsabers wildly, blocking each other’s shots.
PANEL 6- Meh-Ran whips himself backward through the air.
Page 14
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran and Mal-Zey just miss a domed catwalk, each of them passing on either side.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey leans forward, shooting towards Meh-Ran, lightsaber stretched forward.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran curls up and spins over Mal-Zey’s head.
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran uncurls, and lashes out with his lightsaber, Mal-Zey blocks.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran shoots his hand out, while still gripping his lightsaber.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey slams against the building, letting out a loud “Ooomph!”
Page 15
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran then points and shoots his hand upwards.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey is still woozy from the hit against the building. His lightsaber gets yanked free from his hand and flies upward.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran moves in close and grabs Mal-Zey. Meh-Ran holds his lightsaber just inches from Mal-Zey.
MEH-RAN: I will have my revenge before I die!
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran about to strike, suddenly looks very surprised, as does Mal-Zey.
Page 16
PANEL 1- Side shot of the two slamming into a passing flying car.
PANEL 2- The car is big enough so they didn’t damage it too bad, they just smashed into the roof. It stops flying and hovers.
PANEL 3- The two men are very woozy but are getting to their feet. An alien pops out of the roof hatch.
PANEL 4- Shot of the alien. He looks pissed off.
PANEL 5- Shot of the two men from the alien’s POV. They are broken, battered, and beaten and look very, very pissed off too.
PANEL 6- The alien mocking a whistle goes back into the hatch, sealing it behind him.
Page 17
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran turns back to Mal-Zey. He reignites his lightsaber and begins walking towards Mal-Zey. Mal-Zey is looking up, discretely.
MEH-RAN: Now, I finish this.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey holds his hand out.
PANEL 3- Shot of Mal-Zey’s lightsaber falling through the air.
PANEL 4- Huge panel of Mal-Zey, who, in one fluid motion caught his lightsaber and blocks Meh-Ran’s strike.
Page 18
PANEL 1,2,3,4,5,- Various shots of the lightsaber duel continuing atop the hovering car. Fast, furious, and just nasty fighting.
PANEL 6- Mal-Zey tackles Meh-Ran and they drop off the car.
Page 19
PANEL 1- Meh-Ran is struggling with Mal-Zey as they fall.
PANEL 2- They continue to struggle as a catwalk is approaching fast.
PANEL 3- Big panel of them smashing through the roof and hitting the catwalk. No one is on this catwalk. Meh-Ran takes the brunt of the fall.
PANEL 4- The two men lay there unable to move for the moment.
Page 20
PANEL 1- Mal-Zey is scrambling as he lays flat against the ground for Meh-Ran’s lightsaber, which is just out of his reach. Meh-Ran sees what he is reaching for and pulls him back by his leg.
PANEL 2- Mal-Zey is crawling towards it and Meh-Ran is dragging himself along using Mal-Zey’s robes.
PANEL 3- Closer and closer. Mal-Zey’s fingers are an inch away. Meh-Ran is almost lying next to Mal-Zey.
PANEL 4- Mal-Zey grips the lightsaber. Meh-Ran grabs Mal-Zey around the neck.
PANEL 5- Shot of the lightsaber igniting.
PANEL 6- Shot of a manic Meh-Ran as he SNAPS Mal-Zey’s neck.
Page 21
PANEL 1- Big panel of Meh-Ran pushing himself to his feet. The Mal-Zey corpse lies at his feet.
PANEL 2- Shot of Meh-Ran looking solemn and remorseful.
MEH-RAN: What have I done brother? What have I become? I am the true tragedy of our clan. I have let our legacy die in disgrace and hatred.
PANEL 3- Meh-Ran picks up his lightsaber.
MEH-RAN: Forgive me my clan, forgive me Meh-Li, Meh-Bya…
PANEL 4- Meh-Ran looks distantly at Mal-Zey’s body.
MEH-RAN: Forgive me brother…I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save you this time.
PANEL 5- Meh-Ran drops to his knees, lightsaber in hand.
Meh-Ran: May Tensou have mercy on my soulself.
Page 22
PANEL 1- Half page close shot of Meh-Ran driving his lightsaber into his stomach.
PANEL 2- The rest of the page is a far shot of the catwalk, centered on Meh-Ran lying dead on his side, next to Mal-Zey. Lightsaber unignited.
Titanium Old School Script
Page 1
Panel 1- The night skyline of a futuristic city. There are billions of lights coming from all over. I was thinking something similar to Neo-Tokyo in just about any anime.
CAPTION:
CONFLICT. US VERSUS THEM. IT’S THE ONLY UNIVERSAL CONSTANT I’VE SEEN.
Panel 2- Zoom in to a fairly deserted street where there are flipped over hovercars as well as other futuristic looking innovations. Two groups of men are firing at each other with fairly sophisticated and highly destructive handguns and are causing massive property damage. The two groups are wearing black suits with two different designs. One group’s suits have a “UC” symbol and the others have a Government Seal. The men with the Government Seal are slightly outnumbered.
CAPTION:
I HAVE A THEORY THAT LIFE IS CONFLICT. THAT’S WHY ALL HUMANS GRAVITATE TOWARDS THINGS THAT WILL HELP CREATE PROBLEMS MORE THAN SOLVE THEM.
Panel 3- Closer in on the firefight as the government soldiers are being gunned down. It doesn’t stop them from holding on and continuing to fire away. One of the hovercars is in flames.
CAPTION:
THERE WILL NEVER BE AN END TO WAR. IT WILL JUST CHANGE AND ADAPT. AS LONG AS THERE IS A CAUSE, THERE WILL BE MEN WILLING TO DIE FOR IT.
Panel 4- Extreme downshot, with a heavy vertigo feeling to it. A shiny, metal-skinned man with black hair and dressed in a black suit with no shoes stands on the edge of one of the skyscrapers at least 30 stories up. He is faced away from us and is standing on the very edge of the building and is about to fall off. His tie is flapping in the wind.
CAPTION:
DYING FOR A CAUSE ALMOST SEEMS LIKE THE SMART MOVE. AHH, DEATH. IT SOUNDS SO INVITING.
PAGE 2
Panel 1- The metallic man is plummeting towards the firefight below. He is looking up towards us with a look of bliss on his face (otherwise he should always have a cold, emotionless look, devoid of any passion or interest) as the wind whips his suit wildly.
CAPTION:
IN TIMES LIKE THIS, I JUST HOPE THIS FALL WILL BE DIFFERENT. I HOPE THIS WILL BE THE ONE TO END THE CONFLICT. FOR ME AT LEAST.
Panel 2- The government and UC soldiers all dive for cover as the metallic man drops right into the flaming hovercar and the car explodes sending everyone flying backwards.
PAGE 3
Panel 1- The aftermath of the scene. All the soldiers are stunned into a moment of cease fire. The ones still standing are looking over the debris to see what has happened. The remains of the hovercar are scattered about and there is a large smoking crater where the metallic man landed.
Panel 2- Close up on the remains of the hovercar. There is a lot of smoke coming from the crater but we can’t get a good look in.
Panel 3- Same shot as Panel 2, but now there’s a metallic hand rising from the smoke.
CAPTION:
DAMN.
Panel 4- The metallic man steps out of the crater. His suit is charred into non-existence. He has just enough of a suit left to cover his privates. His hair is a mess and he looks like he is very, very grumpy.
CAPTION:
DIDN’T EVEN FEEL IT THIS TIME.
Panel 5- The metallic man steps between the two sets of soldiers and looks towards the government side. In the background we can see the UC soldiers are getting ready to open fire.
METALLIC MAN:
RUN.
PAGE 4
Panel 1- The metallic man stomps towards the UC soldiers as all sorts of laser blasts bounce off his metal skin. The metallic man has a look of bored hostility. More like he’s annoyed than anything else. He leaves potholes behind as footprints. In the background the government soldiers all run off into the distance.
CAPTION:
HAVE TO FINISH THIS AS FAST AS I CAN. LEAVE AS MANY ALIVE AS POSSIBLE.
Panel 2- The metallic man stops in front of the hovercar the UC soldiers were using as cover. The UC soldiers are backing off but continuing to fire away. The metallic man has his foot raised behind him, about to let loose with a kick.
CAPTION:
HOPEFULLY THIS WILL MAKE FOR A SUITABLE MESSAGE.
Panel 3- The metallic man has let loose with a soccer kick, sending the hovercar flying towards us.
Panel 4- The hovercar slams into the UC building shattering the giant statue of the UC logo (UC superimposed over the globe).
PAGE 5
Panel 1- The metallic man is walking away from the UC building. In the background the soldiers have all stopped shooting and are standing dumbstruck as they look up at the hovercar that is jutting out of their destroyed UC monument.
Panel 2- The metallic man is walking down the street. Hidden eyes are peering out of the windows lining the street.
CAPTION:
ONCE, MY ACTIONS JUST NOW WOULD HAVE HAD PEOPLE CHEERING MY NAME.
NOW, DISTRUST...FEAR.
THESE PEOPLE DON’T KNOW THE WORD HERO.
Panel 1- The night skyline of a futuristic city. There are billions of lights coming from all over. I was thinking something similar to Neo-Tokyo in just about any anime.
CAPTION:
CONFLICT. US VERSUS THEM. IT’S THE ONLY UNIVERSAL CONSTANT I’VE SEEN.
Panel 2- Zoom in to a fairly deserted street where there are flipped over hovercars as well as other futuristic looking innovations. Two groups of men are firing at each other with fairly sophisticated and highly destructive handguns and are causing massive property damage. The two groups are wearing black suits with two different designs. One group’s suits have a “UC” symbol and the others have a Government Seal. The men with the Government Seal are slightly outnumbered.
CAPTION:
I HAVE A THEORY THAT LIFE IS CONFLICT. THAT’S WHY ALL HUMANS GRAVITATE TOWARDS THINGS THAT WILL HELP CREATE PROBLEMS MORE THAN SOLVE THEM.
Panel 3- Closer in on the firefight as the government soldiers are being gunned down. It doesn’t stop them from holding on and continuing to fire away. One of the hovercars is in flames.
CAPTION:
THERE WILL NEVER BE AN END TO WAR. IT WILL JUST CHANGE AND ADAPT. AS LONG AS THERE IS A CAUSE, THERE WILL BE MEN WILLING TO DIE FOR IT.
Panel 4- Extreme downshot, with a heavy vertigo feeling to it. A shiny, metal-skinned man with black hair and dressed in a black suit with no shoes stands on the edge of one of the skyscrapers at least 30 stories up. He is faced away from us and is standing on the very edge of the building and is about to fall off. His tie is flapping in the wind.
CAPTION:
DYING FOR A CAUSE ALMOST SEEMS LIKE THE SMART MOVE. AHH, DEATH. IT SOUNDS SO INVITING.
PAGE 2
Panel 1- The metallic man is plummeting towards the firefight below. He is looking up towards us with a look of bliss on his face (otherwise he should always have a cold, emotionless look, devoid of any passion or interest) as the wind whips his suit wildly.
CAPTION:
IN TIMES LIKE THIS, I JUST HOPE THIS FALL WILL BE DIFFERENT. I HOPE THIS WILL BE THE ONE TO END THE CONFLICT. FOR ME AT LEAST.
Panel 2- The government and UC soldiers all dive for cover as the metallic man drops right into the flaming hovercar and the car explodes sending everyone flying backwards.
PAGE 3
Panel 1- The aftermath of the scene. All the soldiers are stunned into a moment of cease fire. The ones still standing are looking over the debris to see what has happened. The remains of the hovercar are scattered about and there is a large smoking crater where the metallic man landed.
Panel 2- Close up on the remains of the hovercar. There is a lot of smoke coming from the crater but we can’t get a good look in.
Panel 3- Same shot as Panel 2, but now there’s a metallic hand rising from the smoke.
CAPTION:
DAMN.
Panel 4- The metallic man steps out of the crater. His suit is charred into non-existence. He has just enough of a suit left to cover his privates. His hair is a mess and he looks like he is very, very grumpy.
CAPTION:
DIDN’T EVEN FEEL IT THIS TIME.
Panel 5- The metallic man steps between the two sets of soldiers and looks towards the government side. In the background we can see the UC soldiers are getting ready to open fire.
METALLIC MAN:
RUN.
PAGE 4
Panel 1- The metallic man stomps towards the UC soldiers as all sorts of laser blasts bounce off his metal skin. The metallic man has a look of bored hostility. More like he’s annoyed than anything else. He leaves potholes behind as footprints. In the background the government soldiers all run off into the distance.
CAPTION:
HAVE TO FINISH THIS AS FAST AS I CAN. LEAVE AS MANY ALIVE AS POSSIBLE.
Panel 2- The metallic man stops in front of the hovercar the UC soldiers were using as cover. The UC soldiers are backing off but continuing to fire away. The metallic man has his foot raised behind him, about to let loose with a kick.
CAPTION:
HOPEFULLY THIS WILL MAKE FOR A SUITABLE MESSAGE.
Panel 3- The metallic man has let loose with a soccer kick, sending the hovercar flying towards us.
Panel 4- The hovercar slams into the UC building shattering the giant statue of the UC logo (UC superimposed over the globe).
PAGE 5
Panel 1- The metallic man is walking away from the UC building. In the background the soldiers have all stopped shooting and are standing dumbstruck as they look up at the hovercar that is jutting out of their destroyed UC monument.
Panel 2- The metallic man is walking down the street. Hidden eyes are peering out of the windows lining the street.
CAPTION:
ONCE, MY ACTIONS JUST NOW WOULD HAVE HAD PEOPLE CHEERING MY NAME.
NOW, DISTRUST...FEAR.
THESE PEOPLE DON’T KNOW THE WORD HERO.
Comicbook Rockstar . 7 – Seventh Street
No apologies.
Ive been busy changing everything once again. The brief hiatus of this column has seen me through some strange times. I left for the Boston Comicon last September as a vegetarian, non-smoking, New York boy. I had just made my NYC status official after having lived in NYC for a year.
That Thursday morning before the con I finally visited the top of the Empire State Building. It was raining and I was there with my ex Diana. We were trying to make a nice day of it but the weather would have none of that. It was grey and rainy and windy. But still, we smiled, and we tried to make it a happy moment. Two friends parting. She bought me a I heart NY t-shirt. I left for Boston that night.
I came back from Boston and I was suddenly hungover and living in New Jersey. My sincerest thanks to J & Jong for putting me up. Shout outs to Erin, Sarah, Steph, and Laura (What up L-diddy?). In NJ it seems my sense of direction is completely wrong in more ways than one. North was South. South. North. Last year, I reversed, and now, I had inverted.
Meat. It was turkey. It sucks. I wanted to be a vegertarian. I really did. I had a Buddhist like mindset about it all. I did it for two years having given up at the foodcourt of the mall where Dawn of the Dead was filmed. Chris and I were sitting there having just gotten our usual mid-day Pittsburgh Con lunch. The Chinese joint chicken special. You know. Free sample?! Well, one particular piece was just about the foulest little chunk of flesh that was ever consumed. Im easily traumatized by food, so that with a hundred hours of PETA video brainbashing I was eager to stop eating animals.
And I held out. For awhile. But when J brought those damn Starbucks sandwiches back to the apartment, well, I lit up a smoke and ate a damn turkey sandwich by god. Six years of not smoking gone in an instant. I know it seems bad, but something told me I needed to do this. And more.
Nights spent on Jareds floor. Cold in the heat, hot in the cold. Im still drunk as Jared tries to lift my head and slip a pillow underneath it. But Im done. Were out on the weekends as the Young Turks, Disciples of Strange; the East Village Kings. 7305. Lucys. Black & Tan.
..
Days spent with a family. The Estes. Ben, Lee & Jen. I think thats how it goes on the answering machine. I love them dearly. When I had nothing and nowhere left to go, they took me in and loved me as one of their own. Nate and I became blood brothers; Jedi & Padawan, Padawan & Jedi. I slept in Bens room while he was away in Ireland. Thank you Ben. I hope you had fun over there and I want to smoke my stogie with you when you get back.
Lee & Jen. Man, what a couple. They laugh, they love, they drink, they puke, they host, they fight, they welcome, they teach, they believe, they wrestle; theyre family. It was an amazing honor and privilege to see them turn a house into a home. THANKS AGAIN for allowing me to be your humble guest who did his best to clean up and not be a bother.
I knew I was family when I was doing shots with Jen and saw Lee naked. Thanks to the Estes and Hettel families who welcomed a sad soul into their holiday festivities. It was nice to feel like family again. Yay! Presents!
Too bad Im broke. Unemployments gone and Im trying to figure out a way to have enough money for gas to get to any job that may call back, and then hopefully out to NYC to go out drinking and maybe dancing but probably puking, although possibly scoring. Christmas comes with a double paycheck and money from my parents. Thank you to you both who have saved a slacker son from complete financial failure.
Happy New Years! Twothousandsix?!! Damn. Youll be thirty this year. I moved to NYC on my 28th birthday. Now I was suburban Jersey, living on the fault line of ghetto and kingdoms, much like where I grew up in Wheatley Heights. East Orange felt like an old, long lost, childhood home.
Three months in the Garden State and I am blessing my beloved mother every day as the EZPass gets me around New Jersey, to my job and straight back into Manhattan. A job that I soon quit; a graphic design job with Alphagaphics, and then start a customer service training for Cingular. Its a good time, hanging out with a bunch of characters, and getting paid to draw in MSPaint and conquer that most wicked of PC games, Solitaire. Gotta hit the phones after a few weeks.
..
So I quit, just a few days after I go out on a thirty-six hour Brooklyn bound date during the blizzard of 06. Meganificent. I'm nearly completely broke but I have one last paycheck from Cingular. This money is spent on a small food purchase at Target, a tank of gas, and the rent for my new apartment. On Seventh Street.
I move out. On my own. Well, sorta. With a roommate. Not a girlfriend. For the first time since I was twenty one years old, I had my own space to do with as I please. I decorated it with the essentials, aka whatever fit in my Eclipse. Lee & Jen drive me out a mattress, sheets, pillows, and a blanket. Its the epicenter.
My 15 Powerbook and Dell Inspiron 2600 (may as well be Atari 2600) sit at the foot of the bed. Chow Yun Fat is on the wall by this window, next to a portrait Chris drew of me as Wulong. By the other window I have trinkets, including a superball, bottle caps, stones, Ninja Monkeys, a Green Lantern power ring, my sunglasses, two Flash figures, and a Buddha.
Dirty laundry pile is straight along the wall, while the clean clothes are a mound before me. My jackets (including my high school leather jacket with Aerosmith airbrushed on the back, the last birthday gift given to me by my Grandma) now hang in the closet beneath a shelf full of CDs, VCDs, DVDs, copies of Liquid Fury, and a humble library of graphic novels & paperbacks. Another smaller shelf just above the closet holds my cowboy hat, a beautiful vase courtesy of MB, and my Curious George stuffed animal; purchased on September 21, 1976 for a bouncing (oddly yellow) baby boy named Kurt Joseph Christenson.
So here I am. Brand new. Spun around. Made whole.
Things the new Kurt enjoys:
Independence.
His own space.
New York City. Daily.
Having Netflix again.
Rod Stewart.
Downloading comics.
Scrubs. Finally being able to see Oldboy. And Serenity.
That should have been up there under Netflix.
My new haircut. Supercuts. St. Marks.
I need a new one already.
Muy Thai. Tai-chi.
Lifting weights in the mirror.
Admitting embarrassing things.
Getting breakfast.
Making lunch.
Affording dinner.
Buying rounds.
Lady Strange.
The Faces.
Horse the Band!
My old job back. More money, less hours.
Just had a week off.
Brooklyn.
iPod shuffle.
The Cinematic Underground.
Cigarettes.
Jurassic 5
Adult Swim on Demand.
12 oz. Mouse
Downloading comics.
Teen Titans. Comics.
Sleep.
Getting things written.
***
And to end things on a more literate note, heres Shakespeares Sonnet 7 which I received earlier today from my Sonnet-a-day email:
VII.
Lo! in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage;
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract and look another way:
So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,
Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.
***
Write or Die.
K
Comicbook Rockstar 6: sixsixsix
Lift the curse of those feelings which oppress men, which force them into wars they do not want, and consign them to work from whose fruits they never benefit Assume within oneself perversion and crime, not as exclusive values, but as a prelude to their integration into the totality of humanity. Participate in the destruction of a world as it presently exists, with eyes open to the world which is yet to be.
We were the losers of Universe K. Cowboy Outcasts of the Lost Earth. The Superheroes that came out of the Left Field of Reality. The Bad News Bears of the Multiverse. Operation: TenTon.
The hard luck veterans of the twenty-thousand mind war, infinity constantly just a hair's breadth from ultimate annihilation from the most sinister of forces. Hatred, corruption, crime, and genocidal ideologies slammed at the doors of this world and every Wednesday the battle would begin again and again, forever fighting the good fight.
We're a diverse pantheon of the hopeful creative individual, imagination given flesh. Within our minds we have the power of epic conflict that is begging to be set free. These very words are the magic formula I must constantly type in order to keep pace with these mighty beings. But our powers came with a price. A charge. A duty. A holy mission. A promise.
We must keep every malevolent spirit in all of creation from spilling forth from the darkness. The Devil is banging on our souls and there we sit like a lock on a mighty chain that stretches across this country and even across an entire ocean. Hell was seeping through the crack called New Jersey.
I'm the NYC Kid and, along with my sidekick Spider, I patrol the East Village, keeping a lockdown on things, the girls and the bars in particular. By day Im holed up with Captain Mad Dog Estes. He has a complex out in Jersey, hidden among the suburbs. Hes a natural leader, one you didnt mind following into a showdown with the devil. He keeps his family close, with an eternal eye out for the looming apocalypse. On the other side of town, Doc. Malbrough sits with a vigilant watch over his baby girl and his Mrs., a sixgun in each hand. Kai-Zen, the triads former ninja assassin, and J.B., the tough as nails private dick, are stationed a few miles away, protecting the armory. (The selection of goggles is astounding, not to mention disguises for undercover work. Essential in the biz.) Speaking of undercover, Statutory Browns in deep undercover work, infiltrating and penetrating certain key areas of local Jersey corruption.
MC Samurai keeps a vigilant watch over fuckin Baaahhhston, while honing his swordsmanship at his mountain temple. Purple Turtle? Well, he operates just outside Philly, from within a nuclear power plant, where its said his bizarrepowersoriginated. Around the corner is the undercover paramilitary superagent I can only refer to as Project: Khoi. Suffice to say, Phillys covered.
Spreading further out across the country, over in Ohio, we find Major Freeman, who, not only hosts a bezerker fourth dimensional Viking God within himself, but also toils endlessly, preparing the fallout shelters and a backup bunker from which we can defend the world if the evil is ever able to break through. We then turn to the mad genius of Chicago, Dr. Phalex. Surely the power to warp the very fabric of reality could not be in safer hands. When backups needed, the Windy City can also depend on modern day pulp hero, Mr. Burnham. Whether its mummy mobsters or demonic pirates, Blazin Burnhams got it covered with a southpaw and a grin. Prof. Polacek, better known as the Mysterious Minotaur, gets in on the action in Chi-town when hes not scouring spell books, searching for some way to keep the wicked hordes at bay.
A little further out, deep in the Wild Plains of Imagination, Utah, Doug Hills wrestles the Savage Cave Giants, the Ferocious Feral Men, and the Cutesy Cosmic Cheerleaders from Malibu X. Its true. Lucky guy. And I said across an ocean, did I not? Masters, Jason Masters. Currently stationed in South Africa, the man has seen it all. He rocknrolls his way through certain doom and dances out of the room with a deadly karate chop or a devastatingly charming smile. And what group would be complete without the cowboy rogue we call Our Man Mitch. Lee found him wrasslin monsters from the badlands, before finishing up early enough to rock the stage of Mollys Drinkin Shack. Last we saw, he tossed his belongings into the back of his hotrod and blazed down the highway to rocknroll hell. Fire is rocknroll, my friend. Fireis rocknroll.
The devil is asking me to let him out. Hes showing me all that he can offer, for all of us. The accomplishments we can achieve if only I was to say it would be okaybut its not. I cant. The bastard knows Im the weak one though. He visits me every day, just to whisper in my ear all the reasons I should just give in, just give it up and let it all come to me and all of us, but at what cost. So I run and superspeed and leap and jump and flip away, hoping that his voice wont follow, wont seep into my brain and draw me back to where Ill be weak and helpless before his power.
I feel his pull as I bounce through the city, so I soar across the East River and fly on home. Im holed up on Long Island and gripping the sides of my keyboard with all my might. Dont. And suddenly I feel ashamed. Ashamed at being so weak. What would the others think of me? Wasnt I one of them? Wasnt I strong enough to march into battle beside them? I was, goddammit. My mind began to clear and I remembered who I was. I looked around at my family and friends, the people who were there when I grew up and first headed into the eternal struggle. I pledged my service to the betterment of mankind in this very town, in this very house, in the very room I am sitting here typing this.
I was bathed in the radiant light of enlightenment and it dawned on me that we didnt need the devil to get what we wanted. We just need to build and work and fight for our creations in the world around us. Hokey mumbo jumbo about potential and the beauty of creation came too, but I was busying glimpsing the future, watching the parties and fun wed be having. Im no divine being, just a man. A superman, like my brothers in arms.
~TenTon4Life~
K
We were the losers of Universe K. Cowboy Outcasts of the Lost Earth. The Superheroes that came out of the Left Field of Reality. The Bad News Bears of the Multiverse. Operation: TenTon.
The hard luck veterans of the twenty-thousand mind war, infinity constantly just a hair's breadth from ultimate annihilation from the most sinister of forces. Hatred, corruption, crime, and genocidal ideologies slammed at the doors of this world and every Wednesday the battle would begin again and again, forever fighting the good fight.
We're a diverse pantheon of the hopeful creative individual, imagination given flesh. Within our minds we have the power of epic conflict that is begging to be set free. These very words are the magic formula I must constantly type in order to keep pace with these mighty beings. But our powers came with a price. A charge. A duty. A holy mission. A promise.
We must keep every malevolent spirit in all of creation from spilling forth from the darkness. The Devil is banging on our souls and there we sit like a lock on a mighty chain that stretches across this country and even across an entire ocean. Hell was seeping through the crack called New Jersey.
I'm the NYC Kid and, along with my sidekick Spider, I patrol the East Village, keeping a lockdown on things, the girls and the bars in particular. By day Im holed up with Captain Mad Dog Estes. He has a complex out in Jersey, hidden among the suburbs. Hes a natural leader, one you didnt mind following into a showdown with the devil. He keeps his family close, with an eternal eye out for the looming apocalypse. On the other side of town, Doc. Malbrough sits with a vigilant watch over his baby girl and his Mrs., a sixgun in each hand. Kai-Zen, the triads former ninja assassin, and J.B., the tough as nails private dick, are stationed a few miles away, protecting the armory. (The selection of goggles is astounding, not to mention disguises for undercover work. Essential in the biz.) Speaking of undercover, Statutory Browns in deep undercover work, infiltrating and penetrating certain key areas of local Jersey corruption.
MC Samurai keeps a vigilant watch over fuckin Baaahhhston, while honing his swordsmanship at his mountain temple. Purple Turtle? Well, he operates just outside Philly, from within a nuclear power plant, where its said his bizarrepowersoriginated. Around the corner is the undercover paramilitary superagent I can only refer to as Project: Khoi. Suffice to say, Phillys covered.
Spreading further out across the country, over in Ohio, we find Major Freeman, who, not only hosts a bezerker fourth dimensional Viking God within himself, but also toils endlessly, preparing the fallout shelters and a backup bunker from which we can defend the world if the evil is ever able to break through. We then turn to the mad genius of Chicago, Dr. Phalex. Surely the power to warp the very fabric of reality could not be in safer hands. When backups needed, the Windy City can also depend on modern day pulp hero, Mr. Burnham. Whether its mummy mobsters or demonic pirates, Blazin Burnhams got it covered with a southpaw and a grin. Prof. Polacek, better known as the Mysterious Minotaur, gets in on the action in Chi-town when hes not scouring spell books, searching for some way to keep the wicked hordes at bay.
A little further out, deep in the Wild Plains of Imagination, Utah, Doug Hills wrestles the Savage Cave Giants, the Ferocious Feral Men, and the Cutesy Cosmic Cheerleaders from Malibu X. Its true. Lucky guy. And I said across an ocean, did I not? Masters, Jason Masters. Currently stationed in South Africa, the man has seen it all. He rocknrolls his way through certain doom and dances out of the room with a deadly karate chop or a devastatingly charming smile. And what group would be complete without the cowboy rogue we call Our Man Mitch. Lee found him wrasslin monsters from the badlands, before finishing up early enough to rock the stage of Mollys Drinkin Shack. Last we saw, he tossed his belongings into the back of his hotrod and blazed down the highway to rocknroll hell. Fire is rocknroll, my friend. Fireis rocknroll.
The devil is asking me to let him out. Hes showing me all that he can offer, for all of us. The accomplishments we can achieve if only I was to say it would be okaybut its not. I cant. The bastard knows Im the weak one though. He visits me every day, just to whisper in my ear all the reasons I should just give in, just give it up and let it all come to me and all of us, but at what cost. So I run and superspeed and leap and jump and flip away, hoping that his voice wont follow, wont seep into my brain and draw me back to where Ill be weak and helpless before his power.
I feel his pull as I bounce through the city, so I soar across the East River and fly on home. Im holed up on Long Island and gripping the sides of my keyboard with all my might. Dont. And suddenly I feel ashamed. Ashamed at being so weak. What would the others think of me? Wasnt I one of them? Wasnt I strong enough to march into battle beside them? I was, goddammit. My mind began to clear and I remembered who I was. I looked around at my family and friends, the people who were there when I grew up and first headed into the eternal struggle. I pledged my service to the betterment of mankind in this very town, in this very house, in the very room I am sitting here typing this.
I was bathed in the radiant light of enlightenment and it dawned on me that we didnt need the devil to get what we wanted. We just need to build and work and fight for our creations in the world around us. Hokey mumbo jumbo about potential and the beauty of creation came too, but I was busying glimpsing the future, watching the parties and fun wed be having. Im no divine being, just a man. A superman, like my brothers in arms.
~TenTon4Life~
K
Comicbook Rockstar 5: The Power of Love
TenTon has annihilated the 2005 con season and rocked out ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Boston as final proof that we are the nuclear bomb of cool. There was drunken debauchery, rockin' riffs, and many a sexual innuendo. But what I ultimately got out of it all, is a sense of family.
These boys are not just friends, they are brothers. Truly something deeper than just a bunch of starving creators have banded together here. This is a group that found each other because we were meant to. I never imagined I would be surrounded by the coolest of the cool, the baddest of the bad, and they would accept me and love me as one of their own. That's right, love. I said it. There is true TenTon love here baby.
I think I've been missing something vital for so long in my life. I had become so jaded and cynical over the past few years that I had forgotten what an honest love for people I used to have. Somewhere over the last decade I had become what I always swore I wouldn't: Someone closed-hearted and content with spreading negativity to everyone around me. I have a newfound love for my fellow man again, and I find myself not being intimidated by people as much anymore.
I was also letting expectations of people reading my work stop me from writing. I found myself paralyzed every time I sat down at my computer to work. I found I was censoring my thoughts and trying to perfect every word and line so as not to disappoint. But I was letting someone down. Me. I had forgotten what had driven me to write in the first place. That true moment of joy I felt as I put down the words for no one other than myself, not even thinking that anyone would ever read it and being content with the fact that I was putting something together so that I could make sense of things.
Self-love is the hardest thing in the world for me to actualize. I had always torn myself down, expecting to beat anyone and everyone else to the punch. I was extra sensitive my whole life, so an offhanded comment from a friend or family member would send me careening into the chasm of self-hate. I never thought myself good enough, smart enough, or capable enough to do or get anywhere in this life. Now I can see that the only reason I didn't get or do the things I wanted in life was because of these self-imposed limitations.
Now I can see that I'm not alone in all this either. Seems most people have felt these things I've been writing about here. Hopefully something I'm saying here speaks to a part of all you fine readers out there. And for those that aren't reading these columns, that's aight. A big middle finger to all those sucka MCs that don't, but much love to all of you that are reading these here words of mine. I love you all and have a hug for each and every one of you. Seriously, just ask next time you see me. I have love for all y'all.
Big ups to the TenTonKrew, especially to Senor Scott St. Pierre and his lovely wife Karen who put us up in Baaaahhhhston while we drank ourselves silly. I personally had a total blast and miss you guys.
Also, much love to Jay and Jong who are letting me crash at their swank pad. Thanks homies!
K
These boys are not just friends, they are brothers. Truly something deeper than just a bunch of starving creators have banded together here. This is a group that found each other because we were meant to. I never imagined I would be surrounded by the coolest of the cool, the baddest of the bad, and they would accept me and love me as one of their own. That's right, love. I said it. There is true TenTon love here baby.
I think I've been missing something vital for so long in my life. I had become so jaded and cynical over the past few years that I had forgotten what an honest love for people I used to have. Somewhere over the last decade I had become what I always swore I wouldn't: Someone closed-hearted and content with spreading negativity to everyone around me. I have a newfound love for my fellow man again, and I find myself not being intimidated by people as much anymore.
I was also letting expectations of people reading my work stop me from writing. I found myself paralyzed every time I sat down at my computer to work. I found I was censoring my thoughts and trying to perfect every word and line so as not to disappoint. But I was letting someone down. Me. I had forgotten what had driven me to write in the first place. That true moment of joy I felt as I put down the words for no one other than myself, not even thinking that anyone would ever read it and being content with the fact that I was putting something together so that I could make sense of things.
Self-love is the hardest thing in the world for me to actualize. I had always torn myself down, expecting to beat anyone and everyone else to the punch. I was extra sensitive my whole life, so an offhanded comment from a friend or family member would send me careening into the chasm of self-hate. I never thought myself good enough, smart enough, or capable enough to do or get anywhere in this life. Now I can see that the only reason I didn't get or do the things I wanted in life was because of these self-imposed limitations.
Now I can see that I'm not alone in all this either. Seems most people have felt these things I've been writing about here. Hopefully something I'm saying here speaks to a part of all you fine readers out there. And for those that aren't reading these columns, that's aight. A big middle finger to all those sucka MCs that don't, but much love to all of you that are reading these here words of mine. I love you all and have a hug for each and every one of you. Seriously, just ask next time you see me. I have love for all y'all.
Big ups to the TenTonKrew, especially to Senor Scott St. Pierre and his lovely wife Karen who put us up in Baaaahhhhston while we drank ourselves silly. I personally had a total blast and miss you guys.
Also, much love to Jay and Jong who are letting me crash at their swank pad. Thanks homies!
K
Comicbook Rockstar 4: The Quest For Peace
Int. New York City Apt. - Night
The Meaning of Life.
I'm in bad shape. I'm looking out at myself and feel it all falling apart, no matter how hard I'm trying to hold it all together. Maybe it's just the September blues, or the bi-polar/manic-depression kicking in, but whatever's going on it's hard to concentrate.
I can't write this now. Not in this state.
Morning. Back now. Things look better. I've just been having a rough time of it lately. It's a yearly thing really. Every September as far back as I can remember has had me go through the wringer. And as is par for the course, September is nearly over before I even got used to it being here.
I've locked myself away for the last two weeks and just tried to write. It was an agonizing process. I took every opportunity to do all this other miscellaneous nonsense and made excuses to myself. I wasn't sure what I was afraid of, what it was I was trying to avoid, but I had buried myself beneath research and outlining for long enough. It was time to get something done.
So I started, and it was awful and difficult and my eyes darted around the room, as my mind raced. I couldn't help but think of all the other things I needed to do, the people I needed to call, etc. So I slapped myself back into action and pushed through it. It sucked, but I got a major chunk done and I was happy.
But it got me to thinking for this column. Why was it I was having such a hard time finishing these projects? I thought long and hard about it. More distraction I suppose, but I think it helped. I realized that I had changed so much since these projects began, and that I had somehow lost my connection to who I was when I came up with these ideas.
I was always idealistic. A romantic utopian even. Naive? Certainly, but filled with a nearly inextinguishable hope in my fellow man. Then came 9/11 and something had snapped in me. I remember sitting there for days on end, glued to the TV and computer monitor unearthing any shred of information I could find on anyone and everyone involved. This led me down a path filled with conspiracy theories, human rights abuse, civil liberty abuses, and on and on. I became disillusioned and often found myself in the middle of shouting matches with co-workers as our soldiers invaded another country.
I felt insane, or more to the point, sane in an insane world. But what's the difference really? Here I was, a lone voice calling out to any who listened about the injustice going on world wide and I was consistently ignored by peers. I made meek, veiled threats against the government and Bush in the secret hopes that the FBI, who had their Long Island branch right next to the office I worked at, would come and pay me a visit.
But they didn't. Nothing happened. I didn't reach anyone, or help enlighten anyone and I became more distraught. I would never reach them, I could never change anything, or help anyone. And that's all I really wanted to do for as far back as I can remember; help people in the best ways I could. So I gave up. I retreated and withdrew. I gave up on politics for the sake of my stomach and surrendered.
In doing so, I think I lost something vital to me. Something that gave me the drive to write. The drive to live, really. And that was my passion. My passion to help and learn and become involved with others. I just wanted to exist and live as happily as I could without wanting to curl up into the fetal position and check out mentally. So I did like the Romans did, and ignored it all with a drink in my hand. And kept on drinking until I didn't care.
I was happy, distracted by free movie screenings, my fair share of drugs, and lots of late nights at the bars. New York City is full of things to keep your mind busy and unthinking. That introspective nature just doesn't give up so easily though. It crept up on me and started making me sad almost at random. Something wasn't right, and I needed to figure it out.
So I went back to what's always helped. The words. I just kept writing and writing until all the junk sitting on top got cleared away and I could see what the problem was. I had lost direction. I had lost who I was. I had given up trying to help, given up on trying to get something done. My passion for life and writing and the world at large was just about gone. So when it came surging back these last few weeks, it was quite the shock. To be honest, most of this I'm just putting together as I write this right here.
Hopefully, trudging through the next few weeks will see me back and whole. I have lots of lofty goals set for myself and I'm not getting anywhere sitting here spinning my wheels. There's a world that's outside this window here and it's not going to wait for me to catch my breath. And I know everything I write these days seems like a manifesto, a declaration, a call to arms, without the surging forth of the troops into battle. But each one of these columns brings me closer, and every two weeks in-between I get more and more done.
I may not be able to hurl all the world's nuclear missiles into the sun, but I know I can make a difference. Even if it's only to those around me, but then again, they're the ones who deserve it most of all.
This column is dedicated to Chris Chua & Diana Zuluaga, who have had faith and encouraged me, even in my worst moments. Thank you.
K
The Meaning of Life.
I'm in bad shape. I'm looking out at myself and feel it all falling apart, no matter how hard I'm trying to hold it all together. Maybe it's just the September blues, or the bi-polar/manic-depression kicking in, but whatever's going on it's hard to concentrate.
I can't write this now. Not in this state.
Morning. Back now. Things look better. I've just been having a rough time of it lately. It's a yearly thing really. Every September as far back as I can remember has had me go through the wringer. And as is par for the course, September is nearly over before I even got used to it being here.
I've locked myself away for the last two weeks and just tried to write. It was an agonizing process. I took every opportunity to do all this other miscellaneous nonsense and made excuses to myself. I wasn't sure what I was afraid of, what it was I was trying to avoid, but I had buried myself beneath research and outlining for long enough. It was time to get something done.
So I started, and it was awful and difficult and my eyes darted around the room, as my mind raced. I couldn't help but think of all the other things I needed to do, the people I needed to call, etc. So I slapped myself back into action and pushed through it. It sucked, but I got a major chunk done and I was happy.
But it got me to thinking for this column. Why was it I was having such a hard time finishing these projects? I thought long and hard about it. More distraction I suppose, but I think it helped. I realized that I had changed so much since these projects began, and that I had somehow lost my connection to who I was when I came up with these ideas.
I was always idealistic. A romantic utopian even. Naive? Certainly, but filled with a nearly inextinguishable hope in my fellow man. Then came 9/11 and something had snapped in me. I remember sitting there for days on end, glued to the TV and computer monitor unearthing any shred of information I could find on anyone and everyone involved. This led me down a path filled with conspiracy theories, human rights abuse, civil liberty abuses, and on and on. I became disillusioned and often found myself in the middle of shouting matches with co-workers as our soldiers invaded another country.
I felt insane, or more to the point, sane in an insane world. But what's the difference really? Here I was, a lone voice calling out to any who listened about the injustice going on world wide and I was consistently ignored by peers. I made meek, veiled threats against the government and Bush in the secret hopes that the FBI, who had their Long Island branch right next to the office I worked at, would come and pay me a visit.
But they didn't. Nothing happened. I didn't reach anyone, or help enlighten anyone and I became more distraught. I would never reach them, I could never change anything, or help anyone. And that's all I really wanted to do for as far back as I can remember; help people in the best ways I could. So I gave up. I retreated and withdrew. I gave up on politics for the sake of my stomach and surrendered.
In doing so, I think I lost something vital to me. Something that gave me the drive to write. The drive to live, really. And that was my passion. My passion to help and learn and become involved with others. I just wanted to exist and live as happily as I could without wanting to curl up into the fetal position and check out mentally. So I did like the Romans did, and ignored it all with a drink in my hand. And kept on drinking until I didn't care.
I was happy, distracted by free movie screenings, my fair share of drugs, and lots of late nights at the bars. New York City is full of things to keep your mind busy and unthinking. That introspective nature just doesn't give up so easily though. It crept up on me and started making me sad almost at random. Something wasn't right, and I needed to figure it out.
So I went back to what's always helped. The words. I just kept writing and writing until all the junk sitting on top got cleared away and I could see what the problem was. I had lost direction. I had lost who I was. I had given up trying to help, given up on trying to get something done. My passion for life and writing and the world at large was just about gone. So when it came surging back these last few weeks, it was quite the shock. To be honest, most of this I'm just putting together as I write this right here.
Hopefully, trudging through the next few weeks will see me back and whole. I have lots of lofty goals set for myself and I'm not getting anywhere sitting here spinning my wheels. There's a world that's outside this window here and it's not going to wait for me to catch my breath. And I know everything I write these days seems like a manifesto, a declaration, a call to arms, without the surging forth of the troops into battle. But each one of these columns brings me closer, and every two weeks in-between I get more and more done.
I may not be able to hurl all the world's nuclear missiles into the sun, but I know I can make a difference. Even if it's only to those around me, but then again, they're the ones who deserve it most of all.
This column is dedicated to Chris Chua & Diana Zuluaga, who have had faith and encouraged me, even in my worst moments. Thank you.
K
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