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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.