Romana3.1

Zombie Gundown and Other Tales

Steven Ringgenberg’s new short story anthology, “Zombie Gundown and Other Tales” is an entertaining, energetic, and very readable adventure into multiple genres.   The first (and eponymous) story is an apocalyptic tale with an interesting twist.   What would a zombie apocalypse be like in Arizona, the land of guns?  The answer is that you need guns, guns, and more guns, and if you think you have enough guns you are wrong and need to collect more guns. 

The story involves a group of lounge lizards in a local watering hole.  On the very first night of the living dead, their immediate response is to collect as much fire power as possible. I particularly liked the small detail of the narrator asking who had guns and discovering that nearly everyone in the bar had been packing….only in Arizona. 

The still-living spend the night gathering up the individual arsenals that everyone in Arizona apparently has and bringing to a central base…which should logically be the aforementioned watering hole.  It is a particularly telling comment on the Arizona mentality that on the very first night of the coming of the undead, when civilization has hardly broken down, the denizens of the Red Onion Lounge see nothing wrong with breaking into a gun shop and looting whatever they think they need.   It’s the logical thing to do.   

The story ends at sun up, when the Red Onioners now in possession of more arms than the Iraqi army and setting up on the roof of the bar, finally ready for the masses of undead that will surely come.

This all works well, with the one false note of having the governor of Arizona warning folks that the zombies are upon us.  It would be the role of the police to make these warnings, not the governor.  Nor can I imagine the current governor of Arizona, Jan Brewer, would be so empathetic to the plight of the people. 

 

The second story, “Brides of the Wasteland,” is a more typical post-apocalyptic yarn.  Set in the far future, the story revolves around Synwulfe the bounty hunter, working on gaining his freedom by killing his quota of the hordes of mutants that ravage what is left of the earth.  It is an action packed story which exposes its comic book origin.  While the style is very visual and easy to read, the story begins with an overly detailed exposition.  That would have made sense as a sketch for a separate and longer piece but it is unnecessary for the story that follows it.  The salient details of the back story could have been incorporated inline. 

The final story, “The Lurker in the Shadows” is an old-fashioned science fiction bug hunt.  I’m told this was originally intended to be Star Trek fan fiction and it does indeed read like an episode of the show. 

While Mr. Ringgenberg does present us with three entertaining monster tales and has a breezy comic book like style, there is one affectation that just didn’t work for me.  In the two first-person stories, the narrators occasionally have internal conversations that are much more erudite than their spoken conversation.  Consider this passage from “Brides of the Wasteland”:

With practiced insouciance, I took a short pull off my drink and began speaking, “Ya see a lotta weird shit out in the wild zones o’ the Shattered Earth. Hell, I been at the center o’ plenty o’ bad craziness myself…”       

I thought this was an interesting character affectation the first time it appeared.  When it showed up in a second story, I realized that it was a voice error.

This is a minor problem however and does not take away from readability of the stories.  “Zombie Gundown and Other Tales” is not classic literature, but that is not its purpose.  It is meant to be an enjoyable and fast-paced read and on that it succeeds well.

Lucy

As wonderful as it is to see Scarlett Johansson's luscious tuchus in anything, Luc Besson’s Science Fiction Thriller “Lucy” has been heavily criticized as ridiculous pseudo-science wrapped around canyon-like plot gaps and strained logic.  If we are talking about the real world then yes.  All these criticisms are valid.  The idea that humans only use 10% of their brains is an urban myth, and Morgan Freeman’s explanatory lecture at the beginning of the film is a lame attempt to give that myth authenticity. 

In dream space, though, the movie makes complete sense.  The touchstone of the difference between real space and dream space is that in the real world you can’t do magic.  If you find yourself being able to fly or manipulate objects with your mind, you can be sure that you are in dream space.   The only thing that prevents people from doing God-like things in dream space is a lack of control.  That can come with control, practice, or in Lucy’s case, from consuming massive amounts of untested drugs. 
In dream space I have managed to do every phenomenal thing that Lucy winds up being able to do in her drugged dream.   My miracles and apotheosis are not nearly as violent as Lucy’s but it can be excused since her dream space was induced by violence and a very real death threat. 

 
Freeman’s nonsensical expositional lecture is exactly the kind of jumbled logic one finds in dreams.   Arguments like these, non-sequiturs wrapped around symbols instead of concrete concepts, make perfect sense while you are dreaming, but make you scratch your head and wonder “what the hell was I thinking?” when you awaken.

Lucy’s apotheosis revolves around a return to a primordial state.  As she becomes more god-like, she returns to confront the very first human.  She eventually witnesses the birth of the entire universe.  These scenes are dizzying and trance-like and exactly the sort of thing one experiences in the depth of profound meditation or in the throes of what Jung called an “Epic” dream, a dream so profound that it is life changing.  The feeling here is exactly the visceral feeling felt in the last ten minutes of the film 2001:A Space Odyssey.  That film, too, involved a primordial deification that transcended logic.  I had my first religious experience watching 2001.  The self-referential scene of the modern Lucy meeting the Australopithecine Lucy was just as dizzying and ineffable as Bowman’s final meeting with the black monolith.



The plot of Lucy therefore becomes: a woman is forced to act as a mule for untested drugs.  When the pouch carrying the drugs bursts and begins to empty the drugs into her system, she is thrown into a dream state in which she is able to control more and more of her reality.  As she slips ever closer to her overdose induced death, she experiences an apotheosis, resulting in her complete deification as she dies.

The Secret

Forget "the Secret."  Here is the real secret to living a successful and fulfilling life.  

1. Let go of your suffering and your desire...in short,  "Let it be."
2. Laugh and dance and sing and laugh.  You can't do too much of any of these things....especially the laughing part.
3. While on your journey, help as many people as you can.  And remember to do it without revealing your secret identity to anyone....sort of like Batman. 

These rules are of course extremely hard to do, especially the letting go part.  Think of them as goals to strive for. 

Surviving the Total Perspective Vortex

In “The Restaurant at the End of the Universe” Douglas Adams describes a torture device called the Total Perspective Vortex. Victims placed inside the device are shown their infinitesimal place within the immensity of the universe. The minds of nearly everyone who is thrown into the TPV are completely crushed by the experience.

Recently, I experienced a series of soul-crushing events that were so extreme and happened so closely together that it was very much like being thrown into the TPV. The experience caused me to back away from nearly all interactions with people until I could reassess my life and my relative position in the universe. 

One ding to my self-actualization came when I discovered that I was forbidden from going to my own granddaughter’s birthday party….again. I knew right away (and had this later confirmed by said granddaughter) that I was not allowed to go because the LDS side of the family “does not like me.” (i.e. I am a freak and a danger to children.) It was a perfect example of irrational bigotry (as opposed to reasoned and rational bigotry.)

I was hurt. I was angry. My rage was justified, but lashing out to that bigotry with unreasoned bigotry of my own was not. My comments on this thread were out of line. I offer no excuses but simply and humbly apologize to my Mormon friends (if I have any left) for my words. 

Another soul-crushing to my well-being occurred when several comedians came together to criticize “burners.” They called them dirty and disgusting and that they should just get a job. Every insult that used to be hurled at hippies was now re-hashed and hurled at people who are dear friends of mine …including my own daughter.

I attempted (perhaps too zealously) to explain that they were being bigoted and prejudiced against people they didn’t know. That’s when the shit storm hit. Suddenly all their ire turned directly at me. My attempts to defend myself only gave them more ammunition. It ended up with personal attacks on my character…that I didn’t know what humor was and that I was a hypocrite. They meant it to sting and it worked. I was in tears.

I did nothing wrong and will not apologize for my words. But in hindsight, my mistake was to get involved in the conversation in the first place. They were comedians after all. Being snarky is what they do. What did I expect? It was like plopping down into a pit of scorpions and saying “say, did you guys ever think about NOT being scorpions for a while?” That sort of thing rarely ends well.
Lesson learned. In the future I will do my best to stay out of any thread that is insulting to me or anyone I love. No more trying to teach a pig to sing.

One word from those that commented on this thread…if someone is already dizzy and reeling from personal attacks and criticism, it’s probably not a good idea …however well-meaning it may be…to add more criticism on top of it.

Several of my critics accused me of being a “narcissist.” This is particularly troubling as several people in the past, independently of each other, have referred to me in this way.

It is doubtful that many of my “comforters” are aware of the clinical definition of narcissism. A narcissist is not just someone who is in love with themselves. They are abusively so. They seek out victims (called the “Narcissistic Supply”) who can provide the narcissist someone to dump on and belittle. A large part of my reassessment consisted of trying to figure out if I was one of these people after all…if the criticism of “malignant self-love” could accurately describe me. I didn’t think I was abusive but I wondered if it is possible to be abusive and not be aware of it. I actively avoided people because I didn’t want to take a chance that I really was a narcissist and seeking out a new supply.
I think now, though, that what my critics were actually accusing me of was something more akin to being “self-absorbed,” and there is some truth in this. Yes, I am quick to take offense. We “People of Trans” live in a state of nearly constant denigration of our very existence, and we cope with it in different ways. Some hide from the criticism and go completely stealth. They pretend that they aren’t trans at all or insist that they are no longer trans. Those that choose to be out about their affliction often have their sense of humor completely burned out of them. Some retreat into themselves and have a difficult time considering anyone’s pain but their own. Almost all develop hair-trigger anger responses to criticism.

Pain ennobles no one.

I think it is unlikely that I am narcissistic in this clinical sense.  Narcissists do not respond to criticism well. They dismiss the criticism out of hand and personally attack the ones that dared to criticize them. I DO NOT DO THAT...so I can completely dismiss anything those fucking idiots said about me.

I’m sure a large part of the accusations come from my tendency to assume that if anyone is angry at all or expressing anger, it must assuredly be because of something I did. This is a family legacy. Paranoia runs deep in our tribe. (I say this not as an excuse for the behavior but as way of explanation.) The important thing is that this week, when I was trying to fit the shattered shards of my life back into something resembling a human being, I discovered that this was my mother’s energy, not mine. Consequently, it was the one thing I wanted very much NOT to reintegrate.
It will be a difficult struggle since I am fighting against my biology, but I very much hope to be able to accomplish this. I have lived with the fear of becoming as certifiably insane as my mother for many years. Perhaps, if I can be free of this, I will be free of that fear once and for all.

In the meantime, I deeply apologize to anyone that my familial paranoia has alienated or offended.

Spotlight: Out of this world

After a couple of disappointing shows, I am pleased to report that the Spotlight show is back on track and better than ever.  This is not your typical drag show.  What started out as a drag king show has become a showcase for kings, queens, femmes, male leads, and burlesque…an avalanche of alternative performance.   This show proves that lip-synching can absolutely be an art. 

The theme for this night’s show was “Out of this world” and most of the performers had acts based on that theme.  Interestingly, it was these acts, going beyond drag and burlesque clichés, that were  the most successful. 

No one typifies this artistic sensibility more than Mr. Eddie C. Broadway.  He, probably more than any other performer in the show, knows that drag is primarily a visual medium.    His Avatar and Mad Max outfits could stand as works of art on their own.   But it was not just about the costumes.  His choreography was uniquely tied to the outfit.   His subtle twitching during the Mad Max act was a particularly nice touch. 

I haven’t spoken much about Melody Broadway in the past.  To be honest, her acts were disappointing.   Last night, however, she easily won the most stylized and interesting act award for the evening.   Her first act was an odd Kabuki inspired number.  It may have referenced some pop culture that I am unaware of but it didn’t matter.  It was quirky and ineffable and I loved it.

The guest performers,  Symphonie von Liebe and Dix E. Tracy, in keeping with the Science Fiction theme, did an amazingly sensual meeting of Kirk and Spock.  As much fun as it was to see the beloved Science Fiction icons portrayed by beautiful woman, it was much more fun to see those same icons ruin each other’s makeup with passionate, on stage making out.   Oh yeah, and the choreography was nice too.   Sorry, I’m still having flashbacks to that lipstick besmirching kiss. 

Freddie Prinze Charming, the presenter of the show, served as MC and had one act.  He was painted silver from head to toe and sported a large silver “F” on his chest.  The effect was very entertaining.  He displayed a raw masculine power that is missing from a lot of king acts, who while dressed as men, still often display feminine gesturing. 


The various queen acts were for the most part disappointing.   Rather than follow the general theme of the show, they chose to stick with traditional drag routines  (if the word “traditional” can be ascribed to a drag act.)  Felicia Minor, while staying in the drag milieu, was energetic and fresh.  Seeing her interact with the audience is always fun.   Some of the other queen acts started off interesting enough, but ultimately degenerated into simply collecting tips…to the point of leaving the stage empty for an awkwardly long time.       

If you’ve never seen a Spotlight show, you are truly missing out on an experience.   This is not just the best queer show in town.  It’s the best show. 

Th-th-th-th-that's all folks

I could not think of a more fitting place to have the swan song to my comedy career than at Gunner Daimon Gatlyn's fund raiser for ....well, for whatever MI title he doesn't already have.   The one set I was expecting to do went very well.  Lots of appreciative compliments both on the act and how awesome I looked.  (Not sure which compliment I appreciated more.)  

The second, unexpected set did not go well and I cut it short.  I should have known better.  One of the rules I learned over the years is that after 10pm, the audience will not respond to an intelligent set.  They are usually so drunk by that time that the only thing they will laugh at is how often you say the word "fuck."   I once testing this hypothesis by doing a set after 10pm entirely in Middle English heroic couplets.  The difference was that I ended every line with some form of profanity.  I absolutely killed.

But it was particularly fitting that my last appearance on stage should have ended with the audience not really listening to me.  The words of Eliot came to mind:

This is how the world ends
This is how the world ends
This is how the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper