THE BOYS, Season Three (2022)

in

Finished up the third season of THE BOYS the other night and, while it left me excited for the fourth season, it also left me wondering why the rest of the season couldn't have been as good as the final three episodes.

I get the whole midpoint thing, the fracturing of the group, etc etc - but it was a little... lopsided. Took awhile to get its footing - and to stop Hughie from grating on my nerves as he never has before - but once it did...

My guess is (having not read Ennis and Robertson's original comic) that the arc of the show will be The Boys becoming a new Seven – but not a corporate shithead Seven (the whole DAWN OF THE SEVEN is probably more foreshadowing than we're giving it credit for: we're watching the dawn of The Seven, just not The Seven that we think), with Butcher sacrificing himself since he's dying anyhow (spoilers) to make sure that Ryan becomes an actual hero and not the freaky SHINING kid we leave Season Three with – or I might be completely wrong and it, the show, will become something more, something better. Besides, if Butcher kicks it, they'll need a seventh to make The (non-shithead though still-dysfunctional because it's THE BOYS) Seven... potential seventh Seven: Maeve / Butcher one-night-stand progeny? Victoria Neuman's V-enhanced daughter turning against her mother? ... IDK, spitballing in this writer's room of my brain.

Other thoughts: Antony Starr remains insanely brilliant as Homelander... Frenchie, Kumiko, and MM remain my favorites of The Boys... I stopped wanting to beat the shit out of Hughie near the end of the seventh episode – Butcher cold-clocking him was cathartic for all ...  I hope Maeve isn't gone (see spitballing above, a certain narrative symmetry with Homelander + Becca = Ryan/Shining Kid) as Dominique McElligott elevates every scene she's in (see her all-too-brief time on HELL ON WHEELS - and I would been more likely to watch more of HOUSE OF CARDS had she and Joel Kinnamon moved into the White House) and she was largely an afterthought for the majority of these first three seasons, a reactionary counterbalance to the forward propulsion of Starlight's narrative.

Short version: final three episodes redeemed most of the first five - but it was a close call.

thu/20220804

in

Binding snafus – though my high capacity stapler is marvelous – and a need to let publishing things (the writing part is done) percolate for a couple of days on the final PRESS(A) gauntlet – have brought a most welcome return to fiction for a couple of days. While I can't say that I actually got anywhere in my imagined reality, it was grand to be back there (and to find that something I left to percolate still worked).

Brutal about BATGIRL but I hope this portends Warners getting their shit togther about DC films. Not holding my breath, given that it seems to be more about cutting losses and tax breaks than anything – though the "DC isn't a hobby anymore" line does give me some hope - just a bit, though. OK, not that much.

I get - and appreciate - the idea behind the exhibit, but this wearable baby head will give me nightmares.

new notebook obsession

in

I take my hoarding of the Field Notes Pitch Black 64-page Dot Grid Note books (a little smaller in area than a regular Moleskine and MUCH larger than the Field Note Memo Books) to be indicative that I’ve settled, fully, on a preferred new notebook and journal. Lower page count means that my sourthpawness doesn’t lead to my hand falling off the top of the book and make everything I write more illegible than normal. Great pairing with my beloved Lamy Al-Star fine point.

wed/20220803

in

Halfway through line edits on PRESS(01) and the prototype has already fallen apart but that's why I've got a high-capacity stapler and book binding tape coming later today; margins look good, the thing's 80% ready to go. Will probably open up to subscribers on Sunday or middle of next week.

Also later today: dogchildren get their lyme disease vaccine booster shot which means I'll be carrying an 80-pound German Shepherd into the office, and afternoon workout in addition to the five cubic yards of mulch in the driveway waiting to be delivered to their new homes across the backyard.

Mulchmulchmulchmulch…

tue/20220803

in

Not saying for sure, but I think the text of LAST CHRISTMAS is done. Looks like – though I don't want to jinx it - that the page design and margins are, other than a few minor shifts of a tenth of an inch, likewise. Might be brave enough to try a printing of the whole thing, see how it all comes together. Get ready, little Brother laser printer: you're about to get a workout – and a new, 10000-page capacity toner (so you've got that going for you, which is nice).

A large mulchy delivery inbound at some point this morning: there will be tarps; there will be shoveling; there will be dragging said tarps with said large mulchy delivery... there will not be more trips to understaffed big-box home improvement stores for wasted money and time though I did enjoy the parking lot time to read The Economist on the Kindle (much more pleasant than the iPad).

Finished the Helter Skelter in POWERWASH SIMULATOR and have moved on to the private jet owned by the guy with the gigantic mining drill. As much as I love the power washing - excuse me, pressure washing, as the firefighters so helpfully pointed out – I love the text messages from my clients that pop up on the 10%s. The little burg of Muckington is a living, breathing satire on Americans by a team of Brits and I love it - Kevin Bernard's helpful scoring of my washing technique and advice for improvement during the Helter Skelter clearing reminds me of chainsawing a tree at my grandfather's. Oh, and don't mine near those monks: they've got eggs.

mon/20220801

in

Still figuring the morning timing. Getting there.

I've been staring at the Sanctum for most of the weekend with a desire to make it smaller, to relegate my mind to one back corner and stuff it full of desk and books and weird ephemera – not that it isn’t already – but what I'm talking about here is a deeper consolidation: that which is spread over two chunks of the paint shop shall be jammed into one (minus the couch – though dogchildren might object).

It’s a desire that creeps up every so often and eventually diminishes when I decide that there's no way to pull it off but what can I say hope springs eternal/infernal: my desire to work in something essentially the size of an antique mall booth is nothing if not consistent.

Started playing CHORUS last night – yes, I needed a break from POWERWASH SIMULATOR (the Helter Skelter ride is exhausting) – and I was more than a little thrilled to find that CHORUS is essentially a full-on, souped-up, and absolutely stunning space version of one of my favorite games of all time, CRIMSON SKIES.

I need this figure (SPEEDING BULLETS is one of my favorite Elsworlds stories); I also need a Moench / Jones BATMAN omnibus - Elseworlds (RED RAIN saga, DARK JOKER), 515-552, all of it.

hypoglycemic fascination

in

Endlessly fascinated that, whenever I fall into a blood sugar crash on my run - as I did today - my legs simply refuse to do the running bit and enter into a sort of low-power mode: I don’t collapse or anything, but my body pulls the parachute and says, Nope, not gonna happen, you're walking home / should've brought a snack, huh / maybe you'll learn for next time (ha, right: that’d be too smart) but maybe the endless fascination with it should be the first indication that something’s amiss.