Third Year

Go Your Own Way – Fleetwood Mac

First off, I’d like to say that I just found out about Paul Jenkins working on Origins II. For those of you who don’t know, once upon a time (about three years ago) there was a comic book miniseries called Origins, which revealed the true origin of Wolverine. Yep, someone actually had the gonads to write a definitive origin for one of the most popular and enigmatic characters of all time.

Guess what? It sucked. I don’t care about ruining it for anyone, because I don’t want anyone else to read it. We find out that Wolverine’s real name is James and his dark secret is that…he was a little sissy boy. Apparently, James comes from the rich Logan family and spends his time hanging out in the garden with his friend, Rose. One night there’s a violent incident in his house and his mutant powers trigger and blah blah blah…honestly, I don’t remember that well and I refuse to read it again. The series rambles on for six issues of semi-Victorian speak and nothing of interest happens. There’s pretty much no explanation for how Wolverine becomes the super cool bad ass that we know and love today, but I guess you can find that out from reading OTHER BETTER COMICS! If I was going to explain how Wolverine got so fucked up, I would have just done six issues of him getting anally raped and then chopping off his assailants’ penises. Or something.

So yeah, now there’s a sequel. Paul Jenkins is a great writer, but he already screwed the pooch on the first one. Why he’s even bothering to follow it up is beyond me($$$). Garbage in, garbage out, you know?

*****

I’ve got to remember to thank Shirley and Annia for putting up with me on Saturday and for letting me zone out at one point. Somewhere in the middle of running around during Taste of the Danforth and Masala! Mendhi! Masti!, we found some time to just sit down by the Harbourfront waters. It’s one of my favourite places in the world to be. I could sit there forever watching the little waves, trying to catch all the rays bouncing off the surface. There was this great South Asian band playing on a stage behind us too. I had a thought. I realized that this is one of the main reasons that I’m looking forward to going back to school. One of the reasons I’m not afraid of going to U of T anymore. I realized that no matter how hard that place tries to beat me down, no matter how bleak an image it tries to project it can’t take moments like this away from me. It can’t take my appreciation of great beauty away from me. It can’t take a damn thing away from me.

*****

Happy third anniversary to the WAMBAG! Much thanks to one Mr. William Cheng for giving me a place to put all my crap. I’ve posted well over a hundred times now, but if anyone actually bothered to go back and read my posts, you could probably sum them all up in four or five posts. “Alex complains about school.” “Alex complains about work.” “Alex meets a girl.” “Alex sees a drop of water on a leaf and writes six hundred words about it.” “Alex struggles with his homosexuality.” Yep, that’s my contribution to this site in a nutshell.

You’ve gotta admit though, three years is impressive. I mean, most people use blogs as journals to chronicle the events of their lives. We have no lives and we’ve managed to keep going for three years? Also, most blogs actually have readers. We have no readers and we’ve managed to keep going for three years? Is there any reason for this site existing?

I suppose as long as the world needs random quotes, teenage angst from people in their twenties, porn, a faction dedicated to bringing together the world’s first supergroup, Elk penis humour, gay porn, links to websites far more interesting than our own, Schwarzenegger, Van Damme, VAN HELSIIIIIIIING!!!, Malaysian bear porn…well shit, I guess there is a reason this site exists.

Cheers to three more years!

*****

We drove three blocks and then she pulled the car over and just sat there…and it all came pouring out. Her pain, her fears, her whole life, y’know? I mean, ordinary people, right? All the things that happen to them…doesn’t that move you more than a bunch of rubble?
No. I read atoms, Laurie. I see the ancient spectacle that birthed the rubble. Beside this, human life is brief and mundane.