"The Fear of the Horror"

Hi! How have you been? I've neglected this blog, and have been meaning to update it, but life was a whirlwind of fun, with a lot of lightsabers and sonic screwdrivers mixed in, and I didn't think my doubting the direction Star Trek was going, for example, was enough of a temptation to put work - and, by that,  I mean time and tears- into a post. That's Mister LAZY Tibbs to you! I said to no one ever but should have.

Good grief. So many things are happening. I didn't even know how, or where, to begin, truth be told; I had to use a Doctor Who episode title generator to come up with a title for this one, which is, yep, lazy, but it did distract me for a while, which was nice... 

But: to business! Yes, Star Trek has lost me, and I will share why, but it'll be difficult, and will require my doing so over the course of a few posts, because while this breakup with Trek was an amiable one, and I still respect aspects of Star Trek, and always will, one needs to get the words right and, erm, respectful, knowwhatImean? 

But that's not what's happening, is it? Things are currently happening in the world that are affecting my fandom, and I need to mind-map/distill my thoughts via this forum. This. My blog. My blog that I had to bring back from the dead so that I can feel like I'm doing something about it.

Hope you don't mind. I'll try and keep it light and fun. Promise.

Wherein I question my status as a geek

I haven't blogged in months-- I could tell you that I was away on a months-long mission of mercy, or that I had a brief affair with an eccentric Eastern European magnate's daughter, or that I was hospitalized with a contagious disease that baffled the world's scientists, and was only just cured by extra-terrestrials (or some sort of mystical entity), and sworn to secrecy by the shadowy Illuminati...  

No, no, friends, the truth of the matter was that I was waiting to hear from my alter-ego, who abandoned me months ago to try his hand at the Gaming Room of the Sky with the King of Curiosities, and got shanghaied by conspiring members of his Royal Court, and recently escaped, knocking on the door of my apartment at 4:47 yesterday morning with strange, horrible tales that left me catatonic with their perversity...

The Line

These are, of course, all lies, and as I still don't know the truth, I decided to try and find the answers at a comic book convention this past Saturday in the City of the Angels. If not by being surrounded with my familiars, then with whom?, I asked myself, while sitting in the subway train filled with ne'er do wells ("Spare a buck?" one such miscreant asked me while I was sitting on a dubiously clean seat, Moleskine in hand, pages as blank as a red-neck's imagination. "Spare me a story?" I snarled back.), faded beauties, scruffy Oliver Twists, and other mediocrities. I didn't know where my inspiration went, I wanted to tell the lot of them, feeling like Amadeus' Salieri.