"There's Always A Way"

Cross-posted from the Spectrum Culture blog:

Musings by me, on one of my favorite series, All-Star Superman


WARNING: MAD LONG, AND FULL OF SPOILERS, SORTA

There’s nary a person alive that doesn’t know Superman. In both the fictional universe he exists and in our realm, he’s easily the most famous man on the planet, maybe even the entire solar system. He’s achieved all the feats that a man can achieve in his time or any time at that. But have you considered the opposite? Though Superman’s name is commonplace, he most assuredly does not know everyone alive. How could he? Even with his stellar powers, what mind could process that type of information?

Humans are an inherently self- preservational: although we maintain our illusions of the greater good and of being kind to one another, most people truly look out for their own best interests. There is not anything wrong with that mentality, but it is not unheard of to be an insular type, unconcerned with any of the world’s problems but one’s own. But who isn’t, you ask? Who is the one person in the world who can put the needs of everyone above his own?

Superman.

Superman has been presented as a savior, as a Christic figure, as mankind’s last hope. But religious ascribements aside, he’s really just a super man, and Grant Morrison sees this. Longtime comic book fans tire of the character- they see him as a boy scout, as an outdated, overpowered relic of Golden Age fantasy. Lest we forget his original incantation was as a villain, Superman has always been the Superhero Gold Standard. People the world over debate every aspect of his powers: can he outrun the Flash? Is he stronger than the Hulk? Would he and Captain Marvel have a chin-off if they met in real life?

In All-Star Superman, Morrison and artist Frank Quitely take a refreshingly new perspective on The Man of Steel- they write him the most human he’s ever been. They cast the fan boy arguments aside and treat the man like a normal person, who just happens to be able to fly. Bear in mind that Superman draws his powers from Earth’s yellow sun, and that he is, for all intents and purposes, an alien. Were he back on Krypton, he would not stick out- he’d have some fame, being the son of that planet’s greatest scientist, but ultimately he would not be as recognized or revered as he is on our planet. On Earth he has to disguise himself as Clark Kent, and Morrison writes this version as the costume, contrary to other writers who prefer to focus on strictly his abilities. While the man’s powers do make for some cool reading and events, ultimately what kind of a story could be told with a one-dimensional character who does the same thing every time? I, for one, would (and did) get tired of just reading stories where Superman got his ass kicked around space or Metropolis for 20 pages, only to kick back in the last two. Other writers have tried to “spice” him up with radical redesigns and extreme new powers, but Morrison and Quitely realize that a character as iconic as Superman is more compelling when they investigate what truly makes him tick.

The most important part of writing Superman as a human is his giving him humanity and the creators of All-Star Superman manage to make him accessible like none before- they make him confront his mortality. While saving a scientific expedition to the sun that has been led astray by Lex Luthor, Superman’s cells are irradiated by sun rays, overloading them with more than he can bear. He is literally dying for the first time in his life. (“Death and Return of Superman” doesn’t count, because he was straight-up killed, and it sucked.) While green Kryptonite used to be the one thing to bring him to his knees, Morrison and Quitely present a Superman who has experienced a lifetime’s worth of living. As he’s aged he’s gotten stronger, even growing resilient to his former poison. However when his cells are dying, he begins to slowly lose even the powers that make him Superman.

Confronted with the knowledge that he’s coming undone, Superman finds himself making his peace with his former friends and lovers. At the end of issue one, he reveals himself to Lois Lane, who endlessly doubts him, and contradicts her own theorems about Clark Kent’s strange behavior. In the most memorable story in the series, “Sweet Dreams, Super Woman,” Superman presents his beloved with his greatest gift of all: his powers. He synthesizes a formula that will allow her to be as he is for exactly 24 hours. They spend the day flying together, fighting crime, and just experiencing the world through his eyes, until the time traveling troublemakers Samson and Atlas show up. They try to woo Lois, and one of their gifts is a necklace stolen from a pharaoh, who shows up and promises to end her life if Superman cannot answer The Unanswerable Question, which is one of the 12 Feats of Legend that he is to complete before his death.

After freeing her and dispatching of her would-be suitors, her powers wear off and he lays her down to sleep tenderly, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. Although we know he’s falling apart on the inside, Superman has never had a more vulnerable moment in his life.

“Funeral in Smallville,” about the passing of Jonathan Kent, takes place in the past, and has Superman at his most naïve. As he fights with other future Supermen to defeat a creature called the Chronovore, he suddenly realize he can’t pick up Jonathan Kent’s heartbeat. As he flies away so fast his hair catches fire, tears well up in his eyes as he exclaims, “I can save him! I can save everybody.” Such simple dialogue masterfully understates one of the defining moments in the development of the Superman character: the day he realized that the world wouldn’t always be kind.

Volume 2 features the more exploratory stories including issue 10, “Neverending,” which might reasonably be the most important story since Alan Moore’s “For the Man Who Has Everything.” The issue deals with Superman’s life legacy in the diegetic world, but also doubles as a commentary of the longevity of the character in comics form. A near-death Superman spends the day settling his affairs, and in perhaps the most touching moment in the series, he comforts a teenager contemplating suicide. He embraces her and he utters, “You’re much stronger than you think you are.” With this little girl on the ledge of a building, Kal-El, the Last Son of Krypton, is unequivocally the most connected he’s ever been with humanity- he’s on the ledge of his own life, looking over, but with no one to hold him in their arms. He’s not going to be okay, but the girl is, and he knows- but he comforts her anyway.

The ending of the series is much too important and touching to be summed in a few sentences, but what Morrison and Quitely achieve is monumental- with their book, they’ve turned the Man of Steel into a more than a Boy Scout in tights- they’ve made him a man. As writer Mark Waid postulates in his intro to Volume Two, “Superman achieves his power by believing in us.” In his youth and in his twilight, he always was the same kid from Smallville, who thought he could save everybody. The beauty of All-Star Superman is that even though he is Superman, and Clark Kent, and the savior of humanity, he’s always been Kal-El: the boy of two worlds who lost the center of both. Morrison and Quitely hit home the idea that he may be an alien, and he may be more able than us, but he’s ours. There’s always a way. He’s failing himself, but he’d never fail us.

END OF SUPERMAN TALK

Things have been going- let's just leave it at that.

This Property is Condemned.

*The content of this post has been edited for time, alloted volume, and general reasons of reflection.*

I miss you.

[CENSORED.]

Yes, you, [CENSORED.]

My heart hopes you're happy, but my mind can't say as much.

I'll always miss you.

[CENSORED.]

*The lyrics to "A Better Son/ Daughter" by Rilo Kiley go in this section.*

Honour Among Thieves

In the spirit of new year and new changes, I will attempt to update this blog more frequently, and have more content-rich posts.

With that...

Lately I've been sleepless. I toss and turn with thoughts rocking about, uneasy with what spews from my mind. I'm sure this has happened to us all, so I'll spare the rhetorical bit and dive right into my point:

Do you ever think about the ones you said you'd never give a second thought?

Last night, as I lay in bed, my thoughts turned to one person: Honour Fisher.

Honour Fisher was the only blonde in my summer school classes. The Summer Enrichment Academy was rife with pretty girls, and supercool dudes, but being South Florida, Honour stuck out like, well... a blonde haired, blue-eyed girl in a sea of brown haired, brown eyed girls. Honour was a commodity that all the boys hoped to trade.

Every boy was in love with Honour Fisher. She was friendly, outgoing, and surprisingly down-to-earth for a cheerleader. Honour knew she was loved, and Honour valued this. It wasn't an accident when Honour would drop her pencils or knock over her books- it was an opportunity for the one of us who would volunteer to help her out. Honour would appreciatively smile, and reward her valiant suitor with middle school's prized possession- the ever elusive "kiss on the cheek."

Most young Hispanic men and women will tell you that a kiss on the cheek is nothing more than an informal greeting- a way of showing familiarity and welcome. This wasn't so with non-Hispanics- any physical contact took on a much more sensual meaning. This is why Honour Fisher and her cheek kisses were so sought after. Then came the day that Honour Fisher asked me if I could help her gather her things.

******

Her books lay on the floor, and she sheepishly grinned.

"Oh, I'm such a klutz!"

"Allow me," I said, from just above the tile as I scooped her notebooks and papers off the floor.

"Thank you, Ralph," she said to me. I hated being called Ralph, but Honour above all.

"You're welcome, Honour."

She leaned in for my reward... but so did I. That was when the tips of our lips touched. Innocently enough.

"Thanks again!"

She took her stack and took off.

This had to mean something! That's when the word got out. When you're a chubby young Hispanic kid who had never kissed a girl, there was Honour to be upheld.

*****

She laughed when she heard. Laughed so hard she choked on her milk. She even snorted. It would have been a cute snort.

"Eww, him?! I can't believe he's telling people he stole a kiss from me. Like I'd ever kiss a guy like him!"

I had to agree, frankly.

The teasing ended soon after, but I knew what heartache was. My crush on Honour grew, even though I knew she would never have me. Finally came the day where I bought Honour a birthday card. It was hand-picked, thoroughly thought-out, and contained the most heartfelt sentiments a second-language seventh grader could muster.

She said she loved it. She loved it so much she left it unopened, along with the thirteen other envelopes from our classmates, buried in her purse beneath the teddy bear that Alex got her. She didn't have to read it- she knew how I felt, right?

*****

That was the day I learned what seventh-grade heartbreak was. There had to be a reason Honour and I touched lips, right? But then why was she so cruel? If she never kissed anyone so closely before, then why was she so keen on Alex? And what were they doing behind the school during lunchtime, or in the Jurassic Park arcade game with the curtain at the bowling alley?

I swore I'd never be suckered like that again. My feelings were mine to control- I'd know if a woman was playing me, and I'd know when she wasn't interested.You can believe a lot when you're young.

I recently tried to look up Honour.I might have her name misspelled, or perhaps she's fallen off the grid... but what if she knows I was looking for her? The seventh-grade side of me suggests I spelled it right- how could I have forgotten?

I'm not in love with Honour Fisher. This may seem like the case, but it's not. Honour just popped into my head recently while thinking of this long, strange trip I dare to call a "love" life. She wasn't the first girl I liked, or even the first I noticed, but she was the first that made an impression. When I met girls in middle and high school that I might be interested in, I judged them on the Honour system. I made sure to accentuate the negative before I could accept the positive. It worked on the one girl I dated in high school.

*****

Last I heard, she and Alex were still together. Granted, this was roughly a decade ago, so things might be a little different. If y'all are still together, good tidings to you, and Alex- no hard feelings. There never were any. Thanks for that wallet though- it was pretty awesome.

Love, be loved, and spill your satisfaction into the material world. Your gut feeling is usually much better than your overthought instincts. Every one of us has had or will have our stories like this. As you lay your head down when you do, you'll probably think of a time like this. Just promise me one thing, please.

Don't put your Honour above all.

Heaven at Night

Hey everybody,

I made it before another 12 months rolled by! If I keep this rate up, I might have some semblance of an update schedule... but I wouldn't worry- I'll be back to thinking of updating instead of doing it in no time.

As for now,

I'm back at work! I had a brief (like two and a half week) stay with Target, but on day two I remembered why retail jobs are so readily available, and why I swore I'd never cotton to a job where I get lotion on my hands. How can people stand looking at diapers and Advil bottles all day? They're the real heroes... except for the actual ones.

Currently I'm working in an office in Carlsbad, which is about 35 miles from San Diego. It's supposed to be a call center, but we haven't had a single call in four days, so I'm essentially getting paid to tell you fine folks about it, makes jokes with Graham Linehan on Twitter, and read forums about movie mistakes.

You know, things are actually working out quite nicely. I'm not feeling the guilt-ridden pangs of being unemployed anymore- dare I say I'm actually happy? If not happy, then definitely on the road in that general direction.

Oh yeah- and for those not in the know: my insurance debacle was finally settled back in July. I have a new car- a 1995 Ford Mustang convertible. I have dubbed her the Green Hornet, and I am aware it is a bit of a misnomer, so please, just run with it?

What else can I briefly update you on... I'm still DJing for KSDT, and with this job, it means I will be able to stick to the schedule. Please tune in this Saturday from 12:00 p.m to 2:00 p.m. PST (3:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. EST) to hear more stories, synthesizers, and severe banter.

I really have got to start writing more. Be it here, for my personal interests, or even for creative and potential endeavors. This time, however, I don't intend it to be an empty promise. I have a story I'm working on transcribing and then editing- perhaps I'll post it and maybe you fine folks can give me some feedback?

Oh, Pre-Post Script- thank you to all of you for the birthday wishes. My birthday was a lovely time, and it ended how I always dreamed it would: drunk in the 1970s in a red leather booth, with hamburger grease on my paisley tie and a heart of helium.

Til' next time, please, continue to love each other as I do you.

-Raf

This is what I've always wanted.

Years of Refusal.

Sometimes I felt like I would never come back. Sometimes I thought I'd visit every day.

I'm still here though. Just thought I'd remind you all of that.

See ya when I see ya.

PS:

4540 54 St Apt 12
San Diego, CA 92115

Who doesn't love a good mail surprise?

Also, still DJing. Saturdays at 2pm PST/ 5PM EST.

http://ksdt,ucsd.edu

PPS: I have more news to share, and less time to share it in. AU REVOIRE.

Boombox.

So, I remembered this thing existed, and was saddened to know some of you still check it for the bi-annual update.

Here it is.

Though in real news, I will be DJing for KSDT Fiercely Independent Radio on Sundays from 7:00 a.m to 8:00 a.m. PST (10:00 a.m to 11:00 a.m EST.) It's internet radio, so please listen. The other shows they have on there are some good stuff too. Check it out:

ksdt.ucsd.edu

The show title is Some Folks Call It A Bear Surprise, and it should be really awesome. I plan on synching up this blog to the show, i.e. maybe writing on topics I might bring up during the show or taking ideas from my updates and working them in. I would love it if you would all be a part of it...since most of you who might even listen are out in Florida.

BTDubs, the best album ever is "Incredibad" by The Lonely Island. Too bad I can't play any of their songs on the radio.

Anyways, soon I'm going to write a real post about my obsessions of '08 and of late (808s and Heartbreak, Battlestar Galactica, Punisher: War Zone, etc.) so it will feel like we've been in touch all along. Won't that be nice?

I do miss you all though, and if you're in the Gainesville area from April 30th- May 3rd, then act like you know and come see a brotha.

For now, I gotta go to bed to wake up for my job I don't like, much like a lot of you. Sorry :-/

Laters,

Gaytown.

West Coast Smoker.

Is it narcissism if you love yourself for all the wrong reasons?

What if you feel the opposite?

PS: New Fall Out Boy is catchy as fuhhhhh.
PPS: Ask me about Crenshaw Boulevard.

Robot Rock.

I love that I live in a house where a joke about willingly becoming a robot leads to a legitimately intriguing discussion about the dynamics, drawbacks, and advantages of implanting a robot with quantifiable emotion.

Andrew's point: What good is a perfect feeling of love and happiness if there was never any sadness to counteract it? Essentially, without sadness there can't be happiness, so even a certifiable implant of an emotion, where it possible, would be meaningless. Really, there would be nothing to compare it to. Andrew feels that sadness needs to be ever-present to properly "calibrate" the measure of "happiness" included.

Raf's point: Agreed that there has to be a measure of the opposite to compound a feeling, but I feel that were one able to perfect a sadness that leaves an impression without remaining, it would truly lead to a permanent and quantifiable feeling of ecstacy. Think of a footprint: it lets you know someone was there, without you have to see the person walking those steps. My suggestion was to implant sad memories, but to remove them after a while, so that the impression remains, and not the impressor.

Having known sadness without reliving it, could a robot truly be permanently happy? Once the being recognizes and/ or relives these events, it acknowledges the flaws and essentially, it becomes humanity. In knowing there is more than it knows, so to speak...giving a robot sadness makes it human.

Discuss?

In non-sentient technology news, it's almost Christmas and I'm starting to fall victim to the Yuletide of emotions people tend to get this time of year. I miss home, I miss you all, yet I'm strangely happy I'm staying in California. Going to Vegas won't hurt, but the fact that I didn't have the option to fly back does. Bollocks to that nonsense.

For those of you worried, my Irish Kudzu patch is coming back nice and think, and bramblier than ever. Every day I look at myself in the mirror and I get scruffier and scruffier. 2009 will be a bear of a hair surprise.

Here's hoping the best for you and yours.

-Raf

PS: No, we're not drunk: this entire discussion came about because of how much I love synthpop, electronic music, and Daft Punk's phenomenal Alive 2007: Japan

PPS: If only I could be an android bear...

Coldest Winter.

So what motivates someone better than greed? Well, girlz, dawg, but you can't win those from Shaun Spalding's brother Steve. I am posting about the Sears Grant a Wish contest, brought to us by the good folks at www.howtosplitanatom.com. Apparently Sears is offering Steve and seven other cohorts the chances to spread material Christmas cheer. I love nothing more than talking about myself and winning stuff I didn't earn, so I am linking back to his site, as per the official rules. If you're reading this Steve: thanks a lot; it's awesome that you're gonna be able to make a few people's Christmases that much more awesome.

In order to officially participate, I have to link to the post, so here we go

A Steve Spalding Selebration


Click on it, and maybe you'll win something too! Maybe we all will, if we melt enough corporate hearts with our combined Christmas sneers.

In real life news: I got a bonus at my job I don't like. It helps deal with the blatant disrespect and the egregious abuse of my good nature and willingness to help.

I also have to replace the brakes on my car and it appears someone stuck a nail in my tire, so chuuuuuuch.

Oh yeah, and I don;t know if I'll post any more frequently than once a month as it seems, but happy holidays to you and yours. Happy Chanukah, Merry Christmas, and those of you who celebrated it, I hope you had a solemn and dignified Ramadan.

I might be going to Vegas after Christmas... so stay tuned.

Thanks to all of you for reading, especially Katrina Tan, Andrew's sister, who I had no idea would find rantings about comics and weirdos that interesting.

Later days.

PS: I drink on Sundays.

Debaser.

Sometimes I really do feel like I'm frontin.' I mean, I have a job in this economy, yet I still find everything to complain about. Maybe I'm being too melodramatic...and this is almost assuredly the case, but I can't seem to help myself. In Other news, EMILY VUXTON, here are the long promised pictures of our house three months ago:















For those of you who I've unfortunately left out of the loop, I work for a company that monitors drug and alcohol testing for the trucking industry in California. Believe you me, it's more soul crushing than you'd think... but a paycheck is a wonderful motivator.

Also, I got a haircut, a fascination for Star Trek, a decent tolerance level, and an internal sense of responsibility: all things I was sorely lacking before I skipped town.

I do plan to post in this more often, for the three of you who read this, so I hope you enjoy.

PS: Yes, I did see Punisher: War Zone

PPS: Whatever you think I thought of it, that's what I did.

PPPS: <3 you all.

Naive Melody.

I acknowledge I don't write in this enough... but that's mostly because I feel it doesn't merit to parrot.

For those of you who aren't Danny, here's what's up:

1) I have a job. Full-time, working for a company that monitors drug and alcohol testing for the trucking industry. It's every bit as glamorous, interesting, and fulfilling as it sounds... if you're an idiot.

2) I got a haircutsurprise. Before you accuse me of actually going corporate, I'll thank you kindly to try to scrub shampoo into a thick bramble bush, then rinse it all out. Now you know my pain.

3) I shouldn't have cut my hair.

4) Oh, how I miss you all. Terribly, to boot.

5) Life is a series of checks and balances, for better or worse.

6) Holy shit, Ice Cube might be the best rapper alive.

To wrap it up, I'm 23, employed, miserable and complacent.

Oh yeah, and I bought myself a MacBook for my birthday. Sell-out salaries let you do things like that.

Plz, let me know how your lives are; I try to keep in touch with all of you, but it's just hard, yo. Especially when I sell my soul for a third of the day for just enough scratch to keep the demons away.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record... I love you all.

PS: At Emily Vuxton's request, I'll post pictures of our new house... when I get over my distaste for digging through folders.

Thanks for reading, you all, and I am going to make an actual, honest to Grodd attempt to post in this more often.

PPS: LOLZ comic books.

Wild Pack of Family Dogs.

The following paragraph is a rant. Be warned. It is completely skippable.

So here we are, in beautiful, maniacal, San Diego, CA. The weather's 73 degrees year round, usually, and the people are FUCKING CRAZY. As Daniel and I discussed, I think we live next to Arkham Asylum. A man missing his lower jaw comes out every day at around 8am, and departs at 8pm. Normally, this would not be a problem. However, since there's no central air, we open the windows. Solomon Grundy takes it upon himself to smoke and mumble for hours on end, sometimes under the pretense of having a conversation. Since my window is a perfect vantage point to next door, I get the full blast of his insane demeanor. It was cute for a couple of days...now we just fear for our lives.

END RANT

In other, actual news, I start in October with the Registrar of Voters, but am currently awaiting a hopefully fruitful opportunity with Verizon Wireless. I always pretended I'd never sell out...but I can't fucking wait to be a company man.

Also, for your enjoyment, a list of the films we've watched in the past couple of weeks:

2Fast 2Furious
Four Brothers (Twice)
John Witherspoon: You Got to Coordinate.
Postal
Soul Plane
Who's Your Caddy?

A startlingly obvious trend, if ever there was one. Let me just state, for the record: I LOVE BLACK PEOPLE.

Yes, I do miss you all. Yes, all of you. Yes, even those of you that read without my knowledge. I do hope you'll visit.

Might be going to LA this weekend, which is pretty chuuch.

Lastly, I've sent a lot of you postcards, but if you'd like one (or another,) hit me with your address. Send your letter bombs to:

Raf Gaytown
5755 Potomac Street
San Diego, CA 92139

I think that's it for now...

Oh! I got new glasses. Check out my Facebook profile, http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=2006004 .

I think they make me look gay.

Best to all of you, and I will always love you all.

Once Upon a Time in the Projects.

I think Ice Cube is my favorite rapper ever. That makes him the Thomas Allen Waits of hip-hop.

Once again it's on, I'm going out the front door, Ice Cube and the glass house headed for the store

Idolatry Tonight.

Jim Colee is the reason I am who I am.

Discuss?

PS: San Diego is a see-saw of hope. I miss all of you...yet I want to start anew.

The Keyboard's Been Drinking (Not Me.)

For all you Raf Gaytown fans out there, the soundtrack for this trip: Randy Newman's "Harps and Angels." I bought it at an indie music shop in Austin, Texas and it's fantastic. I also almost bought red sunglasses...more to come.

Greasy Spoon Guidelines:

1) Buffalo sauce and Tabasco go with EVERYTHING.
2) The bigger the omelette, the lesser the man.
3) Of course you can have 8 glasses of champagne at 1pm. It only cost you $2.99!
4) Yes, I WILL have it Animal Style, thank you.
5) Huevos Rancheros Omelettes are the reason you wake up in the morning.
6) 7 eggs is just excessive.
7) Why do apple crepes taste like Apple Jacks?
8) That is orange juice I just poured into my malt liquor.

Fake update: As I was typing that last sentence, the ice cream man passed by, jingling his bells. Feels good to be a kid again, doesn't it?

Stay trill, fam.

Feels Like Home.

Well fam, I finally have news to report. We're in San Diego, and we have a home to call our own. If you're ever on the West Coast, drop by 5755 Potomac Street, San Diego, CA 92139. It's a lovely four bedroom house with a thoroughly modern kitchen. My room is a bit small, and I'll post pictures later, but I like it just the same. There's no central air, but that's both a) a common occurrence in San Diego, and b) perfectly fine when it's 73 degrees year round.

Also, it looks like I'll be working with the San Diego Registrar of Voters for the upcoming election, if only temporarily. It's work and money to pay the bills, so I'm slabbin'

Real talk: I miss all of you, and the phone being passed around at Ying's party made me realize that as hard as it is to say "goodbye," it's for the best. Expanding Westward is one of the best decisions I've ever made..at least, it's looking that way.

To those of you who read this: thanks. It means a lot.

In summation: I love each and every one of you.

The Lonesome, Crowded West.

From Saturday, August 9th, to present, I have:

-Been in a car for over 20 hours.
-Slept about as many hours.
-almost hit a coyote.
-listened to Randy Newman's new album nine times.
-taken the Root Bear Surprise across the Mississippi.
-listened to a bunch of stand-up comedy albums.
-been more lecherous than I've been in the past twenty years.
-dranken a Hand Grenade
-visited America's butthole; Kermit, TX.

There's probably more, and I meant to update a bit more real-time, but finding a signal has been next to impossible. Tomorrow we head to Phoenix, Arizona, so if any of you have any suggestions as for things to do, then I'd love to hear them.

The 14th is the day: we arrive in beautiful, glorious San Diego, CA, at the corner of Adulthood and Responsibility. Fuck.

I miss you all.

California Medley

I'm tempted to try to write a verbose and heartfelt goodbye to you all...but I won't.

I only have this to say to each and everyone of you:

Thanks.

Goodbye is too good a word, because people in my life are seasons..

In conclusion:

I have always, currently do, and will always, love you all.

Comedy Option:

Most of You: It's Been Real.
The Rest: Eat a Dick.
All of You: Thanks.

PS: You were always my favorite...

In Vino Veritas.

I always thought I'd have more time. I'm leaving forever to slab Westward in 44 hours.

Wow; it always seems like you have more time, til you realize you did. I didn't think about it until I typed that number out. Hopefully, you've made the best of it.

Today's sign-off will be a comedy option that I test-ran on Jim Colee:

Most of you: It's been real.
The rest: Eat a dick.
All of You: Thanks.

Screw(ed)ville, USA.

Blog update #1/ Actual update #5/ Gaitan Family Motto:

I didn't think I'd last this long. I wish I had been right.