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Thinking that maybe what the moment calls for is the acceptance that I'm not in a fiction space right now (right now being this moment, this second; the next half hour could be different – nevermind the next day, week...) and roll with whatever creative space I'm presently in? Feels as though – and has for a very, very long time, even if I didn't have the words to describe it – I've been going against the current of myself for years, fiction when I'm in a non– mode / non– when I'm in a fiction mode / organizing when it's time to let things rip and letting things rip when it's time to organize: what would happen were I to approach each working morning without an intention of a single project? if I simply let fragments come and become what they will, fiction or non...? Eventually – I'm more or less certain – they'll become something. All part of an effort to lower the stakes, I presume…

X-MEN, No. 34 (Nicieza / Kubert, Ryan; Marvel, 1994)

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Every Wednesday morning, I make a blind pull from Siri's (randomized) choice of one of the 20 alphabetically-organized shortboxes that constitute my comics collection, (re-)read it, write about it, and publish the resultant review / memory / whatever. Earlier installments live here.

(Box20): While my complicated relationship with The X-Men remains so, this bit of '90s 90s-ness wasn't as bad as I feared when I opened my eyes and found it in my hands: Nicieza is nothing if not a reliable teller of quality pulp with a soap opera-y mutant twist (Gambit and Rogue were having problems again) and Andy Kubert art (though Kubert was on breakdowns in this issue, with finishes by Matt Ryan) is always welcome.

Nonetheless, there's something, some mental block that has, even in the '90s heyday of mutantmania and my resultant and impressionable mini-collection thereof, rendered me unable to embrace the X-Men corner of the comics world as I have, say, the Bat-village or the Daredevil-burg. Not sure what it is – a general aversion to team books and preference for solo characters, perhaps (though I have found myself, as I stumble through life, enjoying The Fantastic Four – Alex Ross's FULL CIRCLE being a useful gateway drug to Kirby bombast), but my lack of... anything, really, WRT the X-corner remains, with the exception of the cartoon and LOGAN, resolute. Worth noting that I hold a similar indifference to most team books: all of the Avengers series, the various Justice Leagues (I do, however, find the Justice Society intriguing and Super Friends are Super Friends even though they’re the Justice League and yadda yadda yadda)...

Reminder to self: still want to check out the Jonathan Hickman run. Tried it in digital form and couldn’t get into it, but perhaps a physical visitation will do some good.

An enjoyable enough revisit that's made me question my unwillingness to open up to the X-world but, as has been uttered in more than one congressional hearing, There's no there there.

no more deadlines until it’s time to have a deadline and even then

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I suppose that it's a good sign that getting to work on The Main Thing this morning felt like being able to breathe again, a creative tracheotomy freeing me from the suffocation of the last several weeks and/or months and finally letting me ride the wave as it were of whatever waters I'm navigating and while I'm uncertain of what, exactly, changed (or maybe it's nothing more than the happy pill dose readjustment finally started to work), I'll – no, wait, I'm actually fairly certain of what changed: two weeks ago I made the announcement to subscribers that I didn't know when or if the second issue of PRESS(A) would come out and followed that up yesterday morning in a note to myself written in pencil on a "note to god" while not spontaneously combusting during my annual (grand)father's day endurance test of fire and brimstone horseshit (seriously, these people have gotten even nuttier than last year – it was more than moderately terrifying, whatwith the addition of "more jesus in america" callouts from the usually taciturn and silent crowd of 20) that I wouldn't make any further announcement about PRESS(A) until I had at least two more main features, for 03 and 04, in a state of forward motion as I've found, on a visceral level, that adding a window of release / self-inflicted deadline is, at this point, the most sure-fire way to fall off the wave, get hit in the head with the board, and become narrative fish food. Guess that's that then – end of story, as that one guy said in FARGO.