The Colodin Project
Written & Illustrated by Ken Krekeler

This was an impulse buy in Artist Alley. The cover grabbed me, and the writer/artist was friendly and engaging (and he still owes me a sketch). Published by Ronin Studios, the TPB is very well printed and produced, with slick pages that showcase the books art and design well.

Dubbed “a modern murder mystery”, it lives up well to the latter half. With classic noir-stylings, shady clients and private dicks with shadowy histories, the murder mystery hits the right notes, feeling comfortable but also intriguing. As for “modern”… the world of Colodin feels decidedly old-school. The characters carry cellphones, but spend a lot of time leaving messages on antiquated home answering machines. Computers are cursory to their investigations. The real twist of Colodin is Quinn, a 15 year-old master thief and possible murderer, raised and trained in an outside place, an alter realm for only the most gifted, significantly different from our own. The glimpses into Quinn’s past and world are what set Krekeler’s tale apart from the noir tradition. Those scenes are jarring, probably by intention, and occasionally pull the reader out of the story with a “WFT?” reaction. However, as the book progresses, the intrigues hold the interest and the ideas cement satisfyingly. This is meant to be the first volume in a series. I hope they manage to continue – I’m enjoying the story and would really like to see where it goes.

Website: TheColodinProject.com

X-Factor Visionaries: Peter David – Volume 1
Written by Peter David; Art by Larry Stroman & Al Milgrom

I got into comics back around 1993, driven into my local comic shop after watching the new Fox animated X-Men series. I snatched up anything with an X in the title, which eventually got me hooked on Peter David’s now-classic run on X-Factor. Picking up as the new team was assembled – Havok, Polaris, Wolfsbane, Quicksilver, Strong Guy and Multiple Man – I enjoyed being on the ground floor of a new X-team. I was particularly fascinated by Jamie Madrox’s power of multiplicity (an infinitely practical talent I quite envy) and identified with reluctant leader (and Cyclops’ younger brother) Alex Summers. I considered X-Factor my favorite superhero book through the first phase of my comic reading (an era ended when all of my hometown comic stores simultaneously went out of business).

I managed to procure all 4 volumes of X-Factor Visionaries at the con on the cheap, as well as the first 4 volumes of David’s new incarnation of the book. I tore through the new ones first, eager to soak in fresh stories, and found them up to Peter David’s usual standard of quick, witty, light fare. However, a volume into the original series and I’m afraid this is going to be like Goonies for me – a beloved story from childhood whose reality pales to my memory of it.

Volume One’s story arch features all the hallmarks of 80s and early 90s comics – slipshod pacing, unrealistic situations and interpersonal reactions, out-of-place future tech and gimmicky characters. Stroman’s art, known for his graphic design influences and abstract geometrics, bounces between inventive panel stylings and undecipherable visual storytelling. The villains are silly, the heroes foolish and the situations implausible. In the casual manner of pre-911 comics, one of the heroes accidentally destroys the Washington Monument, with very little repercussion. The whole affair feels messy. The dialogue pops and some bits of action are exciting, but the formation of the group feels flimsy and unlikely.

I’m hoping the book picks up across the next three volumes, but I’m a little way into the second (which starts with an Incredible Hulk crossover) and it doesn’t look promising. Perhaps things will improve when Joe Quesada’s penciling run begins, and that the “X-Factor Sees a Shrink” issue lives up to my recollection. That story made a real impression on me as a teenager, an example of how a “superhero” book could tell an effective, emotionally complex story without any superfluous action and mutant shenanigans.

I started my 2010 movie year right, with a big screen viewing of Up in the Air, starring George Clooney, Anna Kendrick and Vera Farmiga. I expect a lot out of director Jason Reitman, seeing as his other two films (Juno and Thank You For Smoking) are in my top twenty favorites from the last 5 years. Mister Reitman delivers here, with a quiet, subtle and engaging little movie. Clooney is, as always, charming, disarming and deft at understated comedy. I was not familiar with Farmiga previous to this film, but her gorgeous eyes and confident sensuality make perfect chemistry with Clooney.

I think the biggest takeaway here is Kendrick, a young actress largely known for a supporting role in the Twilight films. Though diminutive and severely attired, her upstart businesswoman brims over with a mix of perceptive intelligence and naïve personal inexperience. She is Clooney’s real foil, a challenging opposite who is, in many ways, as empty of true personal fulfillment as the isolated traveler.

Kendrick’s portrayal, a poised go-getter on the verge of achievement destabilized by deeper experience, presents that perfect audience challenge – the person you’d likely despise in real life made appealing, developed into someone you want to root for. Prim and stoic or shaken with an embarrassing, hysterical fit, Kendrick glues her scenes together with impressive gravity. She’ll be one to watch**, certainly.

Shot largely in St. Louis, there were a few times where I lost the moment because I recognized locales. In particular, the hotel for the Wisconsin wedding is the Cheshire Lodge, a quaint and cozy little inn I’ve done web promotions for and stopped in for a few drinks. It was cool, though, to hear our Lambert airfield get some loving respect in Clooney’s dialogue.

Up in the Air is likely going to join my list of favorite films – at every point I was enjoying myself, completely taken in by the direction, the cinematography, acting and soundtrack. It fits well on my keeper shelf beside Lost in Translation (which I think of as my favorite film, along with the combined might of the Lord of the Rings trilogy).

* Jason Bateman and J.K. Simmons, both stars of the lamentable Extract, pull smaller – but stronger – roles in Up in the Air. Simmons in particular provides for an emotional scene. I love this guy, seriously. I wish he were my neighbor so we could sit on a back porch somewhere, drink beer and talk amiably about nothing in particular.

** You can follow Anna on Twitter (though she hasn’t posted in awhile) as @AnnaKendrick47. As if she needed to be more endearing, this is her self-description: “Pale, awkward and very very small. Form an orderly queue, gents.”

Fairview Heights is the primary center of commerce for the Illinois-side of the St. Louis metro area. During the holiday season it becomes a national disaster, as Christmas shoppers dog pile on sale racks and litter Highway 64 with fender benders. You’d expect the pandemonium to slow down a bit, though, after little J.C. exits the virginal boy-howdy and the world drinks away the pain of another year. And you’d be wrong.

Pretty much just like this.

There’s an impolite compound phrase, the pairing of simian and feces, which is the only appropriate term for the mess we encountered out and about today. I finished up my holiday gift buying a few days before Christmas, and it hadn’t been this bad. It was like Robert Pattinson was hosting Macy’s white sale – just knee deep in crazy.

Wanna kill any hope or respect for humanity? Go hang out at any retail chain this weekend. Be honest – if the undead rose up in legion to devour the blank-eyed, drooling masses at the shopping mall, you’d be rooting for the zombies. That is, if you could tell the difference between the two groups…

When I was a kid, I remember folks talking down people on the coasts, particularly fast-paced New York and plastic, narcissistic Los Angeles, focused on their lack of friendly decorum. “Nobody’ll even hold a door for you, or give you the time of day,” my small town denizens would remark knowingly. “Here in the Midwest, we’ve still got manners. People have a kind word to spare, know how to be considerate.”

And then we all ejected Pleasantville from the Blu-Ray and dared to step foot in public – just in time to be mowed down by a 65 year old woman dressed like a college girl (oh, gawd, the tights – they burn my eyes!), hell-bent for clearance at Bed Bath & Beyond.

Nothing will kill that old sentimental attachment to Midwestern Hospitality than a day getting pushed aside, elbowed, mean-mugged and bulldozed by your fellow consumers. I’ve grown used to the low number of people who say thanks when I hold a door for them (and the fewer still that will hold it for me). I’ve learned to deal with dirty looks from quatro-moms when their unattended children rebound off my leg in the Target aisles. But these people today, their uncanny valley stare, their aggressive yet directionless trajectories, their disregard for traffic signs and lights, their gumption to cough right in your face without any attempt to cover their germ-spewing maws…

Seriously, I’m 6’1”, 250 pounds of blue-eyed, broad shouldered, pissed off consumer. How can you stare straight at me while playing a game of pedestrian chicken without registering my existence until the point of collision, only to give me the evil eye when I step aside? You should be goram grateful I didn’t body check you into that endcap of iPod stereo alarm clocks.

Midwest politeness, my ass.

But… I’m sleeping tonight on Calvin Kline* pillows ($16.99 at Marshalls!), so I’m feelin’ alright.

*So extravagant! 

2010: Doesn’t it sound like the future?

Welcome to TEN. What are we going to call 2010? Is there an official version, and who decides? Is this what that Pearl Jam record was about?

We partied in the New Year with an impromptu gathering at casa de Wendronimo, also celebrating my wife’s birthday. Double whammy of awesome. With only a few hours of notice for our low-key shindig, we had a full house of merry makers and a full evening of laughs, hugs and good times. We kept it alive, if laid back, until about 4:00am, which is pretty good for a bunch of early-thirty-something/late-twenties folks, right?

Goodbye, 2009. Few will miss you and your Dexter-like habit of killing celebrities. But what of this new, sci-fi sounding year?

I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions, but I’m all for setting goals and making plans and using a milestone (birth of a new decade) to kick-start some new habits and positive inertia.

Instead of a resolution, I’ve decided on a theme for 2010 – “Who do you want to be?” I think this is an important question; it requires self-analysis and reflection, with a focus on the desired positives as opposed to dwelling on perceived negatives. Instead of looking at myself and saying, “damn, here’s a bunch of things that make me unhappy – I should probably change those”, I’m imagining an ideal version of myself, and seeing how close to that model I can become.

I don’t mean some unreachable, fantasy version of myself, but a real world manifestation of my dreams, goals and personal happiness. Not just for 2010, but for my life in general, down the foreseeable timeline. Some of those things will be easily described, maybe easily achieved. Some will be intensely personal, requiring a lot of “behind the scenes” effort. And there might be some lofty ambitions, lifelong pursuit kinds of stuff – but this is about forward thinking and positivity, so that all works.

(My comic book brain says this is like taking an established character and revamping him for a universe reboot, What If? story or parallel universe line. An ‘Ultimate Adron’, so to speak. If it’s half as good as Bendis’ Ultimate Spider-Man run, things will definitely be looking up.)

I’m still sketching my answer to “Who do you want to be?”, designing my specific archetype, but I can say this much so far:

I want to be happy, healthy and physically active. I want to be a great husband, an excellent friend, a loving pet parent and, eventually, a nurturing father. I want to write everyday, to create a career with my words and vision, to build worlds that people love to get lost in. I want to be a leader in media (of many kinds), to generate quality, to effect change and progress. I want to be an active, performing musician – to play and sing and keep my songs alive. I want to always advance my skills, to never stop learning, to never be complacent – to always grow, evolve and innovate. I want to be strong, to take charge, to not back down from adversity – professionally or personally. I want to de-clutter my life, free it from pointless things that distract or slow me down, to streamline to the things that are important, that are enriching. I want to be a whirlwind of ideas, projects and good works – to always surprise, to capitalize on my poly-talent nature. I want my work ethic to be professional and fruitful, without interfering with the quality of my personal and emotional life. I want to look back without resentment for opportunities missed and roads not taken. I want to live a vivacious present, with eyes on the possibilities of the future. I want to be the man who achieved or failed, but always tried – never squandering my blessings. I want to do right by the ones I love, to never lose sight of their needs and their commitment to me. And I want to always be mindful and grateful, to know how fortunate I am and to give back however I can.

And there’s so much more than that. But that’s my start, that’s my beginning for 2010.

Now then – who do YOU want to be?

EcoLifeSTL.com is a Green-lifestyle portal focused on promoting sustainability and environmental awareness in the St. Louis community. Our aim is to bring the green-lifestyle message to both the average consumer – new to eco commitment and wanting to learn, and to aid and connect those actively pursuing a sustainable lifestyle. As a gathering place for green-minded individuals, companies and organizations, we facilitate connection, education and cooperation in St. Louis’ eco-lifestyle.

EcoLife is Emmis St. Louis’ first truly web-only brand (the general focus usually being radio stations and their online brand-extensions). The Emmis team perceived that while the Green movement is alive in the StL, and there are many small sites addressing various sustainable businesses and topics, there wasn’t a hub – a natural starting place for the St. Louisan looking to go Green. So that’s what we set out to create.

From conception to site launch was a scant couple of months. The aggressive schedule and nature of the product (content-oriented as opposed to promotion-oriented, as our radio station websites are) made EcoLifeSTL a challenge. However, I’m really proud of the way the site came together. As a hands-on creative director, I designed all visual elements of the brand – logo, color scheme, website design and all promotional materials.

My mission was to create a logo and website that communicated a friendly, organic tone, and that differentiated itself from other green-related brands. So many of the non-regional sites devoted to eco-matters feel cold, cookie-cutter or corporate – the antithesis of what our brand needed to convey.

Did it work? Our clients and visitors seem to think so. But what about you?  EcoLifeSTL.com

The savage beast.

There is a creature unique to the bounds of civilization, growing overpopulated and more prevalent. It inconveniences us, endangers our vehicles and, perhaps worst of all, takes up all the good parking spaces. It affects all but the most dedicated e-commerce consumer, and it’s an epidemic of our own making: shopping cart abandonment.

Every department or grocery store parking lot is an urban wilderness populated by cast-off carts, left to litter and, all too quickly, dominate the white-lined landscape.

We’re probably all guilty of it: after a long hunt for discounted, brand name cereals, dog toys that will survive more than 10 minutes and reasonably watchable DVDs from the $5.50 bin, that cart corral five parking spaces down from our SUV just seems too far. The looming danger of Timmy’s upset tummy and a gratuitous soiling of the Huggies is a powerful motivator to get moving. Yet you must not neglect this most vital of duties – deliver your shopping cart from the perils of the parking lot.

The cart has been your friend through many shopping adventures. It carries your unpurchased burdens when they surpass a handful. It secures your child and keeps the little predator from attacking unsuspecting canned goods, turkey basters and Pop-tarts on lower grocery shelves. It is your support when the act of consumerism awakens that old crick in your back. It serves as coat rack, foot rest, purse holder and even occasional improvised go-cart (for amusement-seeking high school students).

Your shopping cart is there for you, ready to serve – often with a helpful coupon leaflet tucked into its basket. Sure, sometimes it has a wobbly wheel or a shrill, rusty squeal, lusting for a shot of WD-40 but, hey, your working parts don’t always function just right either. Beware, though – this friendly contraption of metal and casters reverts to a feral state almost instantly when left alone on the great, concrete plains.

Once abandoned, shopping carts will first occupy corners of parking spaces, making the parking maneuvers of large vehicles difficult, and scaring off drivers with expensive cars. Soon, the carts gather into packs, blocking off whole sections of the lot, boldly venturing into the margins of the lot’s lanes. The bravest of all, bolstered by the unruly wind, will cross lines and lanes in pursuit of defenseless Fords, Pontiacs and Infinities.

The front-line against this menace are the unthanked, unsung heroes called cart collectors – part-time employees in garish orange vests and rain slickers, suffering the elements and in-lot traffic congestion to wrangle these refugees from commerce. Ideally their job is to collect the carts from the (too often widely spread) designated corrals set up around the lot. But,  you can bet they spend much more of their time chasing vagrant shopping sleighs, just to return them in a long chain-gang, pushed by a rudimentary R2-D2 topped with a spinning yellow light. After capture, the carts are quickly re-domesticated and prepared for another trip through this endless cycle.

It is your moral and social responsibility to see that your cart finds its way to the proper stall, tucked in and comfortably spooning with its wheeled peers. It’s only considerate of your metallic friend, and it will make the exhausting process of shopping a little easier on all of us.

Until then, I’ll be the guy darting through traffic trying to stop an angry, orphaned cart from cutting a nasty scratch in some soccer mom’s Windstar…

Remember these? Yuck.

While out shopping with a female friend, we stop to examine a kiosk selling trendy purses and belts made entirely of big, dangly sequins in bold, fluorescent colors. I fear someone has accosted a figure skater and stolen their outfit for raw materials.

“I should get one of those,” my friend says, her face a canvas for disco-ball refractions cast by sparkling handbags. I raise an eyebrow. This young woman, characterized by her classy, subdued taste, must be in thrall, mesmerized by the magnificent gaudiness.

“Why?” I’m genuinely curious, and a little concerned.

“They’re so hot right now,” she replies. Her gaze doesn’t leave the display. “Everybody has one.”

“So? They’re popular, so what? You don’t even like pink. Or magenta. Or whatever that is,” I say, pointing to a belt roughly the shade of Liberace’s soul.

She finally looks at me, and her expression is blank. Yet, is it my imagination, or can I see hot pink sequins dancing in her irises? “They’re so hot right now,” she says again, flat, atonal.

“But you hate trend-driven consumerism!” I cry. “You oppose Paris Hilton and all she stands for. Why give in to this?”

She stares at me and points at my wrist, adorned with three thick, mono-hued rubber ringlets sporting unrelated slogans. I haven’t worn a bracelet since junior high. Why did I start again now? I’m struck by the realization that no one else has worn these things in months. Why am I?

Her finger raises to indicate my pseudo-vintage, process faded graphic T-shirt. It depicts a questionably-named business establishment that has likely never existed, in a state I’ve never visited.

The accusatory finger aims higher to my short cropped hair, cut in imitation of Lost star Matthew Fox.

I am overcome by my hypocrisy. My will to fight the system evaporates. I look from my friend’s face to the gleaming, serpentine scales of yellow, aqua and copper satchels. I revel in their gaudy hipness. They are to me as jewels in a treasure chest of fashion.
My friend buys one. I applaud her on how the fuschia complements her pea coat and brings out her hazel eyes. “You’re so in,” I tell her.

A week later, I’m at the mall with my wife. I’m drawn to a display of enormous belt-buckles, some with sharp, protruding edges, others with bright red LED lights scrolling popular catch phrases and rap lyrics. I have never liked such unnecessary belt attire. I imagine how stylishly ironic it would be to wear one now.

I gesture to a buckle resembling a hubcap, a dollar sign spinning in its center. “I like that one,” I hear myself say.

“You’re kidding, right?” my wife asks, incredulous. When I shake my head, her eyes go wide. “Seriously? Why?”

I stare at the spinning buckle bling and mentally compare it to a shiny, sequined pocketbook.

“They’re so hot right now.”