in the company of plastic people

in

Carded and/or otherwise and possessed of deep, animate personal meaning: the more I've added (the more curtain rods too: curtain rods + zip ties + ceiling = wonderful display unit), the more I've found a set of specific avidities: Batman (McFarlane releases of odd variants, the Black and White statues, especially – though a recent find of four carded figures from the '93 Kenner BATMAN: TAS line was a pleasant-enough surprise that it might've triggered a new seeking); SUPER POWERS (particularly my prized, unpunched original 1984 Superman – though I now have almost a complete set of the current McFarlane releases too: love the new Batwing next to my original issue '84 SP Batmobile); Dick Tracy (such a deliciously weird line – I WILL FIND CARDED BLANK); Universal Monsters (NECAs and Megos - just added Hammer's 1962 Herbert Lom Phantom - great flick); and the recent Marvel Legends 60th anniversary Spider-Man (and a yellow-suited Daredevil) figures (the Japanese Spidey variant is wonderful and I'm thrilled to have a Spidey 2099 figure) – which has added three of the 1984 SECRET WARS line to my carded seekings: red & blue Spidey (I think one of mine became a (horribly failed) attempt at a custom 2099 Spidey 30 years ago or so), symbiote Spidey, and Daredevil; an uncarded and plastic-sealed Captain America SECRET WARS figure is currently on the shelves next to a VHS copy of the 1944 CAPTAIN AMERICA serial – I like to pretend that it's "frozen in ice" Cap with immobile preservation action.

As to the origin of this particular encircling, all I can surmise – other than the labor pains of a potential midlife crisis (though there are far more deleterious things to be wasting my midlife on) – is that it's an extension of a period I've been in since my mother's death featuring, among other things, this reclamation of plastic people – not necessarily the exact same plastic people, mind you, only the aforementioned lines, some new, some old / all obtained via a "that's neat" principle having no rhyme or reason other than that – many of the pre-Boston era's having been thrown out when I moved to the land of dropped R's as part of a concerted effort on my mother and (Step-He)’s part to eliminate all traces of me from their new lives; a reversion, perhaps, to a form that once upon a time kept me happy and creative and sane here in this bucolic hellhole – though far less of one in my forties than in my teens –; a reversion to a me surrounded by comics and action figures, toiling away at things and at writings that will go nowhere amidst a (re) discovery of the zen (and the art) of bagging and boarding comics, fake plastic friends reclaimed, reorganized – a reversion to a previous iteration with the experience of the last 20 years as a way to move forward into the next whateveritmaybe or whateveritmaybenot.

All this being the current operating theory, anyhow; maybe it is, indeed, a midlife crisis – but fuck if I know, fuck if I care: I'm rather fond of my toiling away at these things no one reads back here among my plastic coterie.

something(...) more

in

Spending some time figuring out the next form that this space takes. Wanting it to be something... more; what, precisely, that something... more (ellipses req'd as "... more" is more interesting than "more" (apparently)) actually entails is TBD but the phrase/notion that's been floating, trapped, in my headspace for the last several days is THIS IS THE PROJECT. A clearer picture of what that means to me is in the process of forming. If/when I figure that out, I'll be the first to know. And then maybe you - but then again, this is me talking to myself in public.