Tuesday, December 21, 2010

WINTER'S BONE

I rarely see a great movie. Last night, I did.

It's called WINTER'S BONE. Directed by Debra Granik and based on the novel by Daniel Woodrell. The novel is unknown to me, but I'm going to find a copy to read it. And then I'm going to hunt for more work by the author. The film starred a young woman I'd never seen, Jennifer Lawrence, who was great, absolutely great.

Jennifer Lawrence as Ree Dolly.

Here's one of the official online synopses that I found:

With an absent father and a withdrawn and depressed mother, 17 year-old Ree Dolly keeps her family together in a dirt poor rural area. She’s taken aback however when the local Sheriff tells her that her father put up their house as collateral for his bail and unless he shows up for his trial in a week’s time, they will lose it all.

She knows her father is involved in the local drug trade and manufactures crystal meth but anywhere she goes the message is the same: stay out of it and stop poking your nose in other people’s business. She refuses to listen, even after her father’s brother, Teardrop, tells her he’s probably been killed.

She pushes on, putting her own life in danger, for the sake of her family until the truth, or enough of it, is revealed.

That's the basic premise and true as far as it goes. But this movie was just an amazing representation of the poor rural people I knew for most of my childhood. Every actor in this movie was used to maximum effect by the director and cinematographer. You can see the hard life etched into each face--even youthful ones as relatively unscathed by time and experience as that of the hero of the tale, Ree Dolly. At only 17 she already appears worn and tired, if unscarred and unlined by the approaching wreck of life in the Ozarks hill country.


John Hawkes as "Teardrop", Ree's uncle and older brother of her missing father.

The movie, of course, is effective because it rings so true. The man who penned the tale lives in those Missouri ridges and valleys and knows the folk who exist there. And I can tell you the situations and the reactions of those humans are also true. They are little different from the folk among whom I lived in my own parts of the rural south, whether in the lowlands of the coastal plains or the mountains of Appalachia. Wherever you go and find poverty, these people are there.

One overriding image in the film was of the women of this community. The men are like poltergeists, waiting in the background and only there to inflict or to do violence. It's the women who stand as a buffer between authority and the men, between conflicts and their males, between these male gods and the mad world they have created.

If I've met a more effective hero than Ree Dolly in a work of fiction I don't recall this character. The story is a great one, told on a small scale, but a classic quest for all of the claustrophobia of the tiny, grimy, dangerous environs in which Ree is forced to journey.

One of the few moments of compassion that Ree experiences from a man during an attempt to enlist in the armed forces. Portrayed by Russell Schalk. I suspect that this guy is an actual Army recruiter because he surely made me believe it.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Great Show

As usual, Dave and Rick did a great job putting on a fun comic show. Spent time with my pals Budd Root, Andy Smith (the comic book artists, not my son), Eric & Royce Thrower, and I bought some neat old comics and sold a decent amount of my novels and did an online interview. All in all the day was a lot of fun and I had a great time!

The show was pretty darned crowded for most of the day.

Star Wars fans!

Being interviewed for online magazine.

Star Trek fan!

Another Star Wars fan! Cool!

Saturday, December 18, 2010

ComicCon

THIS is where I'll be tomorrow.

Hope to find some nice back issues and to sell some copies of THE FLOCK and promote THE LIVING END.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Great Big Trees


Almost two years ago I hooked up with some of the guys from the Eastern Native Tree Society (now The Native Tree Society) for a day-long hike through our newest addition to our National Park system, Congaree National Park. It was once a National Monument but was tacked on to our National Parks--the government agency that I consider the greatest thing our nation has ever done for its citizens.

Congaree is an exceptional place. It has a truly vast and comprehensive tract of old growth bottomland hardwood forests that are relatively intact. You can tramp around in there for many miles while all around you are forest that have probably never felt the bite of the woodsman's axe. I've heard that some parts of the big forest were selectively logged for exceptionally valuable timber such as bald cypress, but even with these trees you can find some truly old groves.

One thing about this place is that I would definitely not recommend a trip there in warmer weather. I went on a very cold March morning when the day greeted us with frost and a hard freeze. It warmed up a tad as the day progressed, but because of the cold we were spared the ravages of the swarms of mosquitoes and hordes of ticks that the park is well known for. As it was, we never saw any of these nasty creepy bloodsuckers and were rewarded with a walk through an enormous and stunning old growth forest.

Since I haven't posted any notes or photos from this hike since shortly after it happened, I figured I drag some of the images out of the etherbox and show them around.


The facilities in the park are pretty good. Lots of bridges and raised boardwalks for when the water is up and the Congaree River is flooding the swamps and lowlands. We didn't have to deal with such things, it having been normally dry when we went.

Typical forest of bald cypress with the forest floor alive with cypress "knees".

Another solid bridge along the way.

You can see a party of kayakers coming down the creek as we crossed on a bridge. I've been told that the most impressive cypress trees are accessed only with the use of a canoe or kayak.

Here I am with the world's champion Loblolly pine.

This forest will make you feel appropriately small.

Everywhere we hiked we found champion-caliber trees.

Puny human!

I stand between an oak and a pine, feeling that Mother Nature runs the show.

A "walking tree". This one a cypress. Created when sapling rise from a fallen nursery log. After many years, the nursery log rots away, leaving a newer tree with root system straddling the space once filled by the nursery log.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

New Comic

I've done a lot of book and collectible buying in the past month or so. I bought some more fiction by Michael Chabon. I really enjoy his work. He's quite the writer.

Latest pickup on the comic book front is a copy of TALES TO ASTONISH #25. It has a great Jack Kirby cover and was mainly picked up as part of my quest to collect the Silver Age work of Steve Ditko.


Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Short Story Mentality

I'm trying to make some time to create a short story. I've gotten a bit rusty when it comes to writing short fiction. Short stories are a lot of fun to write, but sometimes they're just hard work. I've been writing novel-length fiction for so long that I'm having a hard time getting back to working in the short story format. It takes a completely different mental attitude to create a short story--in some ways it's far more difficult in that I am unable to accept a leisurely pace in the creation process.

As I daydream and try to get back into that groove, I'll also pine away for the mountain vistas that I've neglected for so many months. I'm hoping to get myself back to the southern peaks as soon as I can.


Mill Creek Falls--in West Virginia. Remains one of the prettiest waterfalls I've ever seen.

Potato Knob in West Virginia. I don't get into technical climbing, so this is about as close to that as I'll go. This wall of rock is what's known as "Class III" climbing. It looks like it's straight up, but there are plenty of handholds. You can get hurt if you slip, of course, but you'd have to be careless or a terrible klutz. I went up this section in quick order.

This was taken along a cliffside trail in Hanging Rock State Park in North Carolina.

Monday, December 13, 2010

High Country Places

Just a some spots I've passed in my wanderings through the high country of my native South. It's been far too long since I've gone hiking or backpacking. Carole and I haven't even had time to go camping in our travel trailer because of my writing commitments of the past year and because we spent so much of our vacation effort going to Yellowstone last year.

I really need to get back up to my mountains. I miss them terribly.








Sunday, December 12, 2010

Shopping 101

Well, we went shopping today. Carole and I went to see her mom as we try to do at least once a week. There is a mall near her house so we stopped off there to do some Christmas shopping. It wasn't too bad, I have to say. The traffic was bearable and it was easy to find parking and there wasn't an absolute crush of humanity in the mall itself. So it was actually a pleasant experience.

I suffer from SDD--Shopping Deficit Disorder. Like most men I'm just not into shopping. I don't understand how women get such a kick out of it. So I try to find a nice place where I be a bit of a vegetable and watch the human beings and maybe read a book. This was easy to do because they have a Borders Bookstore in there and we nabbed some cookbooks and novels as gifts and--since two of the books were MY gifts--I read part of one of them (Chabon's THE YIDDISH POLICEMAN'S UNION: A Novel). Looking forward to Christmas morning when I can unwrap that one and read it for real.

I also like to go into malls from time to time because they're the best places to watch people. All kinds of people. Especially pretty women. All the pretty women go shopping in malls. Yep, I'm a lout. "Is that all you care about? Looking at women's breasts?" my wife complains. No, there are always their asses, too.

The food court. We stopped here and had a tad to eat.

This was some kind of Santa bubble. People were lined up here and they'd go inside and have photos taken of their kids sitting on Santa's lap. I think the crazy thing was sponsored by the movie studio that makes those damnable Narnia movies.

I called this one "The Orca Dress". Carole was not amused.

We found a store in there that sells absolutely nothing but Hello Kitty shit. For real.

This is the Borders Books where we spent some money buying Christmas gifts for ourselves and for others. It was really busy in there. I was impressed.


Saturday, December 11, 2010

Music of My Youth

I liked the music from the late 70s and early 80s. I enjoyed keeping up with pop in those days. Not for decades, now. Because I'm an old man? Couldn't say.






These guys had me ready to start a revolution. Alas.

Debbie Harry: what a beauty.


Friday, December 10, 2010

YOW!

If you can learn and perform these tunes, I'll be totally impressed:












I always liked this one because it mentions Tibet and Palestine.
(Yes, I know a number of nations have been "created" since. Still a cool song.)


Thursday, December 09, 2010

If I Only had a Gort

"If I Only Had a Gort"
With apologies to Yip Harburg



I could wipe away the towers, that crowd out all the flowers and crush trees of every sort.
And the cities I'd be scorchin' while yer countries I'd be torchin'
If I only had a Gort.

I'd unravel every nation without any bit o' patience, For the citizens of course.
With the panic you'd be knowin' you would feel yer life a-goin'
If I only had a Gort.

Oh, I could show you why Civilization's end is sure. I could think of killings never known before. And then I'd sit, and kill some more.

I would make yer navies nothin', their ships all full of stuffin'
The seas bereft of ports.
I would dance and be merry, and yer towns-o I would bury,
If I only had a Gort.

Wednesday, December 08, 2010

The Giant Load of Sawdust

Sawdust.

I've actually written about sawdust before.

I'm surprised how many people don't even know what sawdust is when I mention it. These are folk, I suppose, who've never used a saw or seen a lumber mill. I've always been around it--whether building shelves in my dad's bookstore or sawing wood for a building project, or using the stuff as filler in a garden, or when visiting an actual sawmill. I love the smell of it, especially from yellow pine lumber.

I know a little about sawdust. At least I know what it is.

In addition to using it as filler and fertilizer in a garden, sawdust has a ton of other uses. Some companies take it and mix it with resins and turn it into particle board. There are outfits that transform it into pellets and sell it as fuel for steam turbines. Some places burn it in furnaces. You can ferment it and make wood alcohol. I've even been told that it can be made into various types of adhesives.

One thing that I don't know much about is the subject of economics. About the only thing I do know is how one makes a profit. You buy low and sell high. Or higher than you bought, at any rate. If you buy something for ten cents and sell it for twenty-five cents then you did well. That's about all I know about economics.

I've long suspected that our entire economy is based on a shell game. Or that it's all some kind of super-sized Ponzi scheme. (Well, I have to admit that I am knowledgeable enough about economics that I know what Ponzi scheme is.) Sometimes the process of business in the USA just seems like a con to me. It doesn't make sense and it doesn't add up. The numbers are just too large and watching the prices of what is sold compared to the information that I have for how much that object cost seems completely impossible.

What got me really dwelling on this subject occurred some years back. In those days I was making a living hauling molding paper (old comic books) up and down the eastern seaboard and selling that stuff as collectibles. I did pretty good at that for a long time. On one of these trips I was driving my van filled up with thousands of pounds of moldy paper ("valuable comic books") and decided that I needed to pass the large truck in front of me. As I got closer to that large truck and its high and canvas covered load, I began to notice flakes and bits of sawdust flying toward me. It was coming from the load the huge truck was carrying. I figured that they were carrying lumber.


I was wrong.

As I passed them I noticed that the truck was hauling not lumber but just plain old sawdust. And not just sawdust but ragged sawdust. This stuff was more like flakes than dust--the mill must have used a ragged blade or else these were wood chippings that had been run through a grinder to be sold as just that--snowflake-like chips. The truck had a driver and another worker riding along. He must have been a paid assistant, I figured.

Okay. Huge truck hauling big load of sawdust with two employees. Big deal. I drove on.

Later, either that truck sped up or I slowed down. Neither matters, but what they did was pass me. So I rode along again behind them while being showered intermittently with flakes of sawdust that were crawling out from around the canvas and mesh holding it all in. In a while either I sped up or they slowed down and I passed them again. No biggie.

This went on for quite some time. The two of us played leapfrog every twenty or fifty miles. No harm. If not for the flying sawdust I'd hardly have noticed, and they probably never noticed me at all.

For about two hundred miles this went on. Finally, I had to veer off of the Interstate I'd been sharing with this giant load of sawdust and they kept on going. I watched them vanish as I went right and they went on north. That's when it hit me:

The whole project with the sawdust didn't make any sense to me. Yeah, it was a fairly big load of dust. But they were probably hauling almost as much air as they were wood. The sawdust was, as I said, of relatively bulky dimensions and not the smaller, easily packed stuff. And then I started to think of the cost of the diesel fuel they were burning to move that damned sawdust for hundreds of miles along a Georgia highway (we were in Georgia--I don't think I mentioned that). And the driver was being paid. And probably the guy riding along with him.


It occurred to me that it was just about impossible for there to have been a real and actual profit in the moving of a buttload of plain old sawdust across the state of Georgia. It just did NOT make any economic sense to me. How many sheets of particle board could it make? Not that many, really. How many pounds of fuel pellets could be produced by the stuff? Not enough to justify the expending of all of that diesel fuel--surely not! Suddenly it made no sense to me, at all. Someone was paying good money to transport a lot of sawdust a really silly distance for reasons that were a mystery to me.

Like the USA economy in general, it just did not freaking compute. It was like part of a huge scam. A silly rip-off being perpetrated by one shyster on a crowd of yokels.

So this bothered me for quite some time. As I drove along, hauling my load of moldy paper across the eastern seaboard, stopping now and again at comic book shows to sell it.

America.

Someone explain it to me.

Monday, December 06, 2010

The Year with No Christmas Tree

Well, this year will be our first one ever without a Christmas tree. The townhouse is going to be messy with painting and new carpet/flooring going in. So a Christmas tree was just too much of a hassle for us. We didn't want the headache. If we still had a kid in the house, it would have been different. But let's face it--Christmas ain't the same when you don't have a child in the household. The holiday is just tons more fun when you can watch your son's face light up when he looks at that tree and opens the presents on Christmas morning.

When they grow up and leave you alone in the house, the effort doesn't seem worth it.

Alas.

The tree we picked out last year in Sparta, NC at the Crazy Fox Christmas Tree Patch.

So what we'll do is...well, we'll do without. We're gifting ourselves with new furniture in fits and starts. We bought the china cabinet last month, and my new office desk two weeks ago (which we haven't even assembled due to the painting/flooring deal) and a new secretary today. Still a few pieces to go.

The new secretary at the bottom of the stairs.

Well, there it is. We'll go to Carole's mom's place on Christmas morning to exchange gifts. She'll have a tree, so it'll be almost like old times. But no trip to the mountains this year to search out and choose our own evergreen. All things come to an end, I guess.

Carole, at our favorite Christmas tree farm, last year.

Sunday, December 05, 2010

Merry Christmas!

I like to post this at Christmas, or at least send it as an e-card. It's very sweet. Enjoy:


Friday, December 03, 2010

Fantastic Four #28

Yesterday I read some good news for the family of Jack Kirby. As those of you who frequent this blog will know, I admire Jack Kirby quite a lot and I've always been horrified of the way he was stripped of the acknowledgment that he created most of the characters that generated the success of Marvel Comics. With few exceptions, one can point to virtually all of the superhero comics of Marvel's early days and find the hand of Jack Kirby solely involved in their creation.

Yeah, yeah, he's supposed to be "co-creator". Even Ernest Hemingway had an editor. Big deal.

The first things that I recall actually reading were comic books. And the first two comic books that I ever read were illustrated and written by Jack Kirby. Either my mom or my dad bought me a few comics at a local bookstore on Norwich Street before I was even old enough to go to grade school. The first of these comics was Fantastic Four #4. I was amazed and read the damned thing to pieces.

I wanted to read some more of this stuff, so my mom took me to the used bookstore where she'd bought that one and I found another issue in the stacks. This one was Fantastic Four #12. Of course I loved the issue and never forgot the story and those amazing images.

After that, though, it was mainly Disney comics and Jesse Marsh adaptations of Edgar Rice Burroughs' JOHN CARTER. These were the only comics I could get from relatives and family members for a time, and so I didn't get to see any more superhero comics until we moved to Atlanta and my dad opened his first bookstore. And then, brothers and sisters, I had so many comics to read it should have been a crime.

The first superhero comic that I can recall reading after my dad opened his store was Fantastic Four #28. It was probably only a year old at that point, and once again I found myself hooked on superhero books. This time there were no limitations because soon my dad had about a quarter of a million of the damned things stacking up in his warehouse and I could read them at will. And there was a drug store down the street from our house that had the new ones on the stands. And my pals all read comics and their big brothers read comics and we'd all sit around talking about them and trading them and reading them.

Today I finally landed a reader's copy of Fantastic Four #28. It's not an investment quality book, but I just wanted to hold it in my hands and look at it the same way I did when I was a kid in the third grade in Decatur Georgia.

Yep. It brought back some good memories. If I close my eyes I'm still living on Mead Road and my pal Wayne Culver lives one street over. We're probably going to go walk to the hobby shop and look at the latest Aurora kits and see if the new issue of Famous Monsters is on the stands. Maybe he found some new Outer Limits trading cards I don't have. And we'll talk about the Fantastic Four, of course.

My own copy of Fantastic Four #28, featuring Jack Kirby's Fantastic Four and some of his other creations, the X-Men.

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

If I Were a Zombie

If I Were a Zombie:
(With apologies to Bock & Harnick)

If I were a zombie,
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
All day long I'd biddy biddy stalk.
If I were an undead man.
I wouldn't have to work hard.
Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum.
If I were a biddy biddy geek,
Yidle-diddle-didle-living dead.

James R. Smith as zombie, image courtesy Stuart Gardner.