Rain King

A bearded boy driving down Beverly Blvd. on a moped with his dog in a messenger bag nestled up to his chest. At a red light, he leans his head down and talks to the dog, ruffling it behind its ears.

All in the game (of thrones reblogs), I guess.

I had to bar my arm over my mouth and cackle into the crook of my elbow halfway through the penultimate action sequence of Man of Steel. Then, during the credits after a certain name appeared on the screen, I had another outburst. Very much in the vein of Lucille Bluth, I exclaimed, yelled almost, “Ahhh! I knew it!”

What name did I see? Jon Peters.

If you haven’t heard Kevin Smith’s Superman Lives/Jon Peters story, look it up right now. I don’t give a shit what you think about Kevin Smith as an artist, or even just as a storyteller; he fuckin’ knows how to tell that particular story, and it’s a good one.

Anyway.

I started laughing hysterically during the noisy, garish, boring action sequence because Smith’s Jon Peters story flashed through my mind and in an instant I identified what would have been his three new Superman rules when Zack Snyder, Christopher Nolan, and David Goyer were working on this movie:

1. No tights. They’re stupid looking and homoerotic, like a professional wrestler. Lose ‘em!
2. No secret identity. People aren’t going to notice that Clark Kent and Superman are identical minus the glasses? Ridiculous! He’s Superman and that’s it.
3. There needs to be a fight with a giant squid in the third act. Oh, why a giant squid? Don’t you know anything about giant squid? They’re the deadliest predator in the ocean blah blah blah…

I hadn’t read anything about Man of Steel beforehand, so I had no idea how right I was. The minute that I saw his name was actually attached to this piece of shit I almost died.

Do I grow it back or keep it shaved? You decide! Voting ends a week from today. I imagine there will be, like, 10 votes at the very most, so don’t treat this like real voting and ignore it: every vote will make a difference!

So, what say you?

I caught up with a dear friend I hadn’t had any solo hangout time with in about a month. We chatted, had a few drinks, a few laughs. She said I seemed like I was doing really well. I agreed.

As I was driving home tonight from my kid sister’s graduation dinner (she just finished middle school, a milestone that, only a few years ago, none of us in the family thought would or even could happen, for a variety of reasons), this song came on and it hit me as hard as it had been on the night I felt compelled to post it.

“It’s getting harder and harder to fake

acting like everything’s in it’s place.”

and then I thought back to just earlier today, seeing my sister graduate and catching up with an old teacher or two, and how great that felt. and I thought about my upcoming gig at Shakespeare Santa Cruz this summer and how excited I was about that.

Pretty contradictory, I thought.

and then I decided that, no, it isn’t. I have been doing really well over the past couple months, and I also have no fucking clue what to do with myself once the summer’s over/in general, and both those things are coexisting and it’s fine. I don’t need to have everything in it’s place right now. It’s enough just having a couple things.

and virtually every negotiation involves food.