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“As someone who reads comics, watches art film and listens to metal, I'm in a unique position to be driven totally insane by neophytes dipping their toes into the things I'm into and having the nerve-the gall!-to call themselves "fans." I spend a significant amount of time researching the things I'm into and going on excavation digs to find hidden gems in the various forms of art that I love, and so when someone says they're a huge Batman fan after only having seen the Nolan movies, or when someone says they're really into "indie" movies when the only non-blockbusters they've ever seen are a smattering of Wes Anderson films and Juno, or when somebody tries to claim membership to the Metal Club by holding up a Disturbed album as identification, my gut reaction is to get a little irritated, maybe even to retort with a catty putdown. After all, I'm the one who's spent hours, years, of my life plunging the depths of the things I've loved. I've earned the right to call myself a "fan"-how dare you exercise the same privilege after such nominal involvement in that which you purport to love? And then, once that initial wash of indignation has subsided, I climb down off my high horse. I keep in mind that there are people out there who can name every title that the Buscema brothers have ever worked on, down to the issue numbers; I remember that there are film buffs out there that would laugh in my face if I told them that I had never seen a film by Bela Tarr; I consider all the black metal kids with their fathomless collections of demo tapes culled from all over the world and reflect that I will never in my life match their dedication. Fandom is a curious thing: You can't seem to claim membership if you don't try to kick someone else off the docket, and a lot of the time, if you're to believe your peers, your credentials don't seem to be as sound as you think they are, especially if you're a woman or a teenager. Everyone is going to have to take part in a Beta-Male Headbutting Championship over the things they love at some point, but for those two groups it can practically be a given before entering a conversation.”—I wrote this article for Comics Bulletin. Like everyone else in the world I was inspired to write something about Tony Harris’ absurd outburst on Facebook. I do think that elitism has a tendency to be kind of inherent in any subculture but you fight against that, for God’s sake, you don’t revel in it.
“When you spend a lifetime trying to find something you don't have, a young man making his way in the world that doesn't love him, doesn't trust him and is trying to kill him, love becomes fear. Baby don't hurt me is what we say when love isn't safe. When the world is full of double agents, cyborg killers, and psychic battles, love is a myth. This quest for love, for a moment of safety in a world of danger and madness is what Luxuia is really about. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, fighting, fucking, betrayal are what you fill a day with when the emptiness of your heart is asking just to be loved.”—Aaron Myers, during an insanely detailed and gratifying round table discussing Casanova:Luxuria over at Comics Bulletin
New article: Motorway to Damascus: Fate and Agency in Dear Esther
My latest article for Comics Bulletin went up a few days ago! I recently played thechineseroom’s Dear Esther, and found that the game’s linearity and symbolism reflects its theme of fate. It was a great experience in which the pieces of the puzzle slowly but surely fell together in my head. I’d highly recommend you purchase and play the game! You can read the article here.