Good morning from the MACP. It’s dreary out there, man. Relatively chilly–the Carolingians are swathed like Shackleton’s crew, but this New England kid is ready for Mai Tais poolside. It’s a good day for The Good Fight.
Let’s get to it.
One thing you ought to know about me, if we’ve only met recently, is that I am a total mark for Joseph Campbell. You know how people have that one author they read, generally in college, and it just rewires their entire neural net? Joe C. is mine.
My Facebook memories for today, rather than bum-rushing me with pictures of my dead father, served up this gem from “The Power Of Myth” that I’d posted last year:
“Follow your bliss and don’t be afraid, and doors will open where you didn’t know they were going to be.”
Now, Madison Avenue would have you believe that the word “bliss” means “that feeling you get when you eat chocolate or sit in a bubble bath.”
“Bliss,” according to Campbell, is almost like being on the proper flight path. You’re in the pipe, five by five. Deviate from that path, you fly into a mountain or get shot down by an F-22. But if you stay the course, you get to where it is you need to be. It’s like the thread Lachesis spins. It’s your route. And when you’re on the right track, it feels right.
It feels right because it is right, goddammit. It’s your doom, in the old sense of the world. You’re acting in accord with wyrd. Five by five.
I feel like I’m beginning to course-correct. I feel like my doom is giving me a big-ass thumbs up. You’re getting there, kid–just try not to fuck it up.
Working on it. I might even have a little chocolate today.
Not a bath, though. Never a bath.
The Phil Coulson Power Hour, one of my favorite programs currently on TV, really chapped my ass this week. No spoilers, but consider this your warning if you want to know nothing.
All week long, the ads pulled the “This Week: AN AGENT WILL DIE!!!” stunt, and the two-hour season finale was, and I can’t back this up yet, an elaborate torture device designed by Joss Whedon to drive us all nuts. A few weeks back, one of the characters had a vision of somebody’s death, and all we knew was that the dead person was in space, had a crucifix on a chain, and a SHIELD patch on their shoulder. And all through the episode, the crucifix and the jacket got passed around like it was a Harlem Globetrotters game. Come on, Marvel. I’m rooting for you here, but you gotta give me something. I stick up for you. Meet me halfway.
Thinking about doing a Free Fiction Friday segment, where I go into the Vault and drag something out to show yez. Let me think on that some. I’m also considering video messages, but you guys are going to make fun of my accent, I just know it
forget i said anything okay jeez
The Far Harbor expansion for the magnificent Fallout Foah comes out today, set in the great state of Maine.
I am calling it now. In the zone representing Bangor there’s going to be a big, spoopy Victorian, with wrought-iron bats flitting about the gate. Inside said edifice there will be either a skeleton or a Ghoul at a terminal. The terminal entry will be a horror story.
Ten to one odds. Somebody take the bet.
Speaking of sai King, photos from the actual, real-life movie set of The Dark Tower surfaced this week, showing Idris “Goddamn” Elba in costume as Roland Deschain, scion of the line of Eld, last of the Gunslingers, and Mad Dog of Gilead.
He looks PERFECT. Dead serious. The Dark Tower is tied with Star Wars as my all-time favorite story. I know what I’m about here. Elba is Roland. The Guns are as if somebody went to Mid-World, just like you can do in the stories, somehow got ahold of Roland’s gunbelts, and brought them back. It’s unfuckingcanny.
And if you want to talk shit about Elba not being able to play Roland because he’s Black, you can go fuck yourself. You’re not needed here, nor are you wanted. Go fuck yourself.
AND ON THAT NOTE. I hope each and every one of you take a little time today. Take a breather. Kiss the person you want to be kissing. Make a nice sandwich. Tell a dirty joke. Because, you know what? Sometimes the little pleasures are the only things keeping the Abyss away. And that’s what we want.