Two weeks ago, while cleaning the attic above the garage, I was reaching for a bag of stuffed animals, trying to hook the strings with a Riddler cane, when I pushed just a little too hard – actually jumped a bit on the ladder I was standing on – and came down on a crossbeam in the attic straight-away on my ribs.
That was a 60-word sentence.
Good morning, everyone! It’s around 5:30 on a Saturday and, as I prepare my brain for work (with coffee), I sit here and wonder how I should greet the world. I decided to greet it with my rib story. They are bruised, by the way, or maybe slightly cracked. I’ve spent a lot of the last two weeks icing, being very careful, taking a ton of Advil, and more or less being in some version of minor-to-major pain. That’s the thing about ribs, though, you can’t do much about them but let them heal. Ibuprofen has taken the edge off a bit – more so than acetaminophen, though acetaminophen is more fun to say – but for the most part, pain. It’s okay, though. Whenever I’m sick or injured I think back to when Peter Parker was ill with some kind of flu bug back in the 70s and still had to go out and fight Electro or somebody. I always think, “if Pete can endure, so can I!”
Although my reading habit – when it comes to books with lots of words – has been in the slack zone for the better part of a year now, I still read volumes of comic book stories and, of course, news and information articles. I’ve always been something of a news junkie, an avid information freak, which is why I love the modern era so much. The Information Age. It’s all out there, to a fault. My recommendation when it comes to information is to get a lot of it but don’t fly down the rabbit hole. Confirmation bias is real and, if you’re not careful, you’ll end up deep in the weeds.
I don’t know who needs to hear this right now, but you’ll never know the whole truth.
Along with re-reading all my old comic collections – starting with Brubaker and Epting’s The Marvels Project – I’ve gotten immersed in a simply fabulous independent comic called Black Hammer by Jeff Lemire. I’ll summarize the plot with the Wiki entry about it:
“Ten years ago, Black Hammer and six other superheroes had saved Spiral City from the Anti-God, but in [the] process became trapped in Rockwood, a timeless Twilight Zone-ish town. Shortly after the heroes arrive, Black Hammer dies. In the present, the six heroes live on Black Hammer farm with very little hope of ever escaping Rockwood.”
It’s kind of a darkly look at the history of the genre but, in the end, just fun as hell. Hell can be fun.
I am making my way through a few books with words right now, too, but I’m not entirely committed to any one. I finished Bruce’s autobiography, of course, and still rock to Springsteen on the deck while reading a little bit here and there from the others. In no particular order I am currently perusing Humankind by Rutger Bregman, The Origins of Political Order by Francis Fukuyama, We The People by Erwin Chemerinsky, and The End of Policing by Alex S. Vitale. A couple of those I’ve been working on for a better part of a year. The Bregman one holds the most promise of getting immersed within should reading passion soon retake my soul.
On deck, purchased but not begun, is (are) Start With Why by Simon Sinek, The Future is Faster Than You Think by Diamandis and Kotler, and Becoming by Michelle. I intend to read a lot. Intend.
Alright, that’s it. Just wanted to say hi this morning, really. And avoid the word “pandemic” and the phrase “idiot president” if I could. I think I did a pretty good job.
Oh, one last bit of advice:
When reaching for a bag of stuffed animals in the attic with a Riddler cane, keep your feet firm on the ladder.
Just trust me on this one. 😉