Tfw you're an emotionally repressed genius teenage CEO who only has a good relationship with your younger brother out of all your relatives and you find out your jerk dad wants to use you to bring back your dead sibling you knew nothing of
In every American city, anti-French partisans waited anxiously for word of “Col. Hamilton and his Lady.” When his recovery was announced, letters of gratitude and relief from the most distant places appeared in Brown’s Federal Gazette. For a while the Secretary’s illness was the biggest new story of the capital city.
Source: Bring Out Your Dead
Can you imagine, like, hundreds of people are dying a day, but as long as Ham and Eliza survive? PHEW!
also I like that this one explored more of how various groups in society participate in the purge
purge cosplayers, spoiled brats with fancy clothes and decked out guns like this is their sweet sixteen, white nationalists going all out with their stupid confederate flags and swastikas, people searching for victims via homemade, patriotic drones, europeans who come over to do the things only stupid americans allow, purge insurance policies, a literal “bring out your dead” truck, and so on and so forth
this is the rythym of the night || the circus is open
of the night -bastille // bring out your dead - beautiful small machines // rabbit heart (raise it up) - florence and the machine // parasol - sarah slean // the garden - mirah // carousal - melanie martinez // dark doo wop - msmr // not safe - mortis ghost // dreaming - bruno coulais
So I’m putting off writing a scene that I’ve rewritten a dozen times and rather than bug the overly generous Mr. Gimple for more writing tips (he has a show to prepare after all)—- I thought I’d shake out the cobwebs by laying some fresh impressions of Walker Stalker experience on y’all.
I said “y’all” because I now wish I lived in the Dallas convention center… in booth number 30. I’m pretty sure my wife wouldn’t mind and my daughter would have the run of the place. She’d also have as many “zombie show” treats as she could jam into her tiny little face.
And I’m pretty sure I could talk the #comicbookmen into living in booth 43. We’d have interesting neighbors anyway. (I think I’m going to finally run that marathon I’ve been unconsciously training for with Ming—-if we can talk AMC into chipping some money for our fave charitable organizations. WD VS COMICBOOKMEN!!!!). Maybe we could even get zombies to pop out of the crowd to chase us occasionally. Or super villains. Or BOTH! Can you imagine Lex Luthor and Gorilla Grodd and the entire Legion of Doom chasing us along with a legion of walkers in like Philly or something?!
Ok convention: First off, even though there were some rope lines, watching my fave actors interact with genuinely excited fans was just awesome. When I managed to see through the crowds anyway.
Chad Coleman is an old friend. A theater friend. One of those friends who when you talk to him after long absence it seems as if no time has passed. He’s also a great listener. Which is good, because I talk too much. Anyway he stayed late to meet as many folks as he could. Signed stuff for volunteers, gave of himself, genuinely took an interest in everyone he met. Treated fans he’d met with the same interest and warmth that he would muhself if we ran into each other in midtown. A walking lesson in simply being a person with other people.
We all went to Bobs steakhouse and talked too loud and laughed even louder. my new friend Daniel Thomas May and made plans to do stuff in the future.
I photobombed Michael Cudlitz. I photobombed a cast member of Lost. I had a picnic with some fans. I didn’t photobomb them but I wish I had.
I met the infamous “Aaron” who’s real name is Ross and isn’t really that infamous at all. Guys a mensch. And if you aren’t from NEW YORK CITY look up mensch. We sat down for horrible stir fry and I found myself face to face with a guy who, like me, was a broke damn actor going from job to job for a while before something special came along. He also does a killer Han Solo impression. He prodded me to whip out a childhood c3po impression. I’m gonna do a #goodnessgraciousme at him when we deplane.
I got bit by a lot of zombies.
I met 4 tween girls who were so fun and curious and COOL. If my kid turned out like any of them I’d be proud. (Stay 5 for just a little longer though honey…)
I met a bunch of kids from St. Jude who are fighting the good fight. I met a 16 year old cancer survivor. We talked zombies and comics, not cancer (I think that might have been a relief to him). And I made a mental note to raise some money for that organization.
I met friends of friends, cops, lawyers, doctors, a couple nurses, one lady that made guitar gear, another that had 6 kids. (She’s 6 times the woman I am) I asked her how she scheduled everything: “I just do.” She said. And SHRUGGED! Then one of her progeny hopped around to “my” side of the table and I had the rare opportunity to give a drawing lesson that my Uncle Walter gave me to a budding 14 year old cartoonist. I turned him on to “How to Draw Comics the Marvel Way” which was a primer for me in beginning to understand anatomy. (Not the end all in terms of comic drawing—- as Alan Moore said not everyone needs to draw like John Buscema—- but it’s a good start for someone who could turn out to be very talented young guy.) Look out Robert Kirkman. ;)
I made dinner plans with Giancarlo Esposito 6 times but he was so swamped and we were both so tired that we decided to do it in the spring in New York with my wife.wait til you guys see what we 3 have up our sleeves.
I bought a Walking Dead Compendium to replace the one my dog peed on. (At least I think it was my dog.)
I did a “hospital” panel with Tyler and Cullen Moss. Tyler was hilarious and awesome as usual. Cullen nearly threw the green lollipops he brought to the crowd. Or I hallucinated that he had. He had groupies! I talked to much. The moderators were awesome.
I said on stage that since I was a zombie in the remake of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD that I’d gone from “walker to doctor”. Someone retweeted that a bunch of times. George Romero was my first director and the shouts from the audience when I mentioned him and special effects guru Tom Savini were loud as a religious revival. That gave me hope.
Season five posters were sold out so I have to wait to hang it in the office next to my comic book stuff.
The volunteers (especially my associate JOSIE) came out in droves and were so helpful and kind. None of them minded my mindless music recommendations and tales from the set. All of us couldn’t stop smiling. It was freeing somehow.
I don’t know how many hundreds of people I met (or zombies for that matter) but a happier, weirder, more excited group of individdles I cannot imagine. Haven’t felt this at home since my last Grateful Dead show.
All that to say that I finally understand what people mean by “Walking Dead Family”. That’s what we are after all. Thanks for adopting me.
Ok. Now I’m gonna listen to some Hawkwind and write this scene for this pilot.
IAN: Doctor. Doctor, come and have a look at this. DOCTOR: Hmm? What? IAN: Look. DOCTOR: Huh, stupid. IAN: Read it, read it. DOCTOR: Well, I repeat, it’s stupid. A stupid place to put a poster. Right under a bridge where nobody can read it or see it. IAN: I don’t know. If you have a body to get rid of, I should think it’s a very good place to come to. DOCTOR: A dead human body in the river? I should say that’s near murder, isn’t it, hmm? IAN: Bring out your dead. DOCTOR: Hmm? IAN: Plague?