Let's Start Something, or "How I Came To Fear The Metal Cop."

Sometimes I'll use this blog for my own agenda.

As you can see, there are just as many 'item find' posts on here as there are musings from yours truly. 

But we all laugh about them, right?

Despite this blog's infancy, when it began I vowed to keep it free of political agenda. The last thing I want is to upset someone and have them boycott the store because of my beliefs. However, I need to make an exception to this rule. Once. And know that I wouldn't do this unless I felt that it was absolutely warranted. This may seem like a joke. I assure you it's not.

With so much news to follow these days, it's hard to keep up with all of it. Yesterday, I came across an article about a proposed Robocop Statue being erected in Detroit. The article is here if you'd like to read it.

     I felt a little odd after I'd finished reading. I should think this is hilarious, right? It's a story about a group of people whose aim is to create a metal statue in the likeness of a fictional, crime-fighting Robot. So why am I not laughing?

There isn't a single day that goes by where someone doesn't come into this store and complain about the state of things. Gripes about the Economy seem to be the most prevalent topic, but, more specifically, the Economy of Buffalo, New York. And while I generally try to turn the conversation towards the positive aspects of this area, I can't help but agree. When you're surrounded by so many vacant buildings, it's hard to look someone in the face and say, "You're worrying too much." I worry about these things, too, but it has become so common-place that I'm dismissing opinions based not on their validity but because, deep down, I'm sick of hearing them. In truth: I have become disenchanted.  

    
     And this is how Robocop Statue's creep in.

     I spend my day pondering questions: What could I do to change things? Could one of these vacant buildings be turned into a charming Art Space? Maybe one of the various literacy groups could use this old storefront as a centralized hub? Should I, as a concerned citizen, focus more on the rich history and architectural beauty of this area to spike tourism? Or should I convince the working people of this area to donate a portion of their hard earned--and equally hard kept--money into erecting a statue of a fictional f****** character? 

     Because the impact of that is, what, going to revitalize that area? Showcase the resilience of the people living in it? Reflect the character of a population who has continually smacked around and sold out? These areas of American industry are dying, and in a time when we should be putting our heads together and trying to figure out the things we can do to create growth, the populace screams back to build a statue of Robocop?

F*** off.

I don't live in Detroit, but I care about what something like this says to people everywhere. It's says we've given up, and we're tired of trying. So, Buffalo/America/World, I'm going to make this pledge to you now: I'm going to change things. I'm going to get involved. I'm going to find a way to bring people together, to create things that celebrate diversity & adversity; I'm attempting to take great strides to make things better, but I can't do it alone. Let's hold meetings, let's form a group, let's get together, let's bounce ideas off one another, let's make a commitment and stick to it. 

I'm not claiming to be an expert at the revitalization of an area, but I am willing to learn. And if one group can put out the call to raise $50,000 dollars for the statue of a 80's Action Hero, then what can be accomplished when, educated, like-minded individuals come together and pledge to change things for the better? Anything. And I bet it's a hell of a lot better than Robocop.

Nothing To Offer.

The Class of '48

I have loads of High School regrets but being a lame yearbook signer is in my top 5. I know that sounds stupid (and, well, it is), but I signed so many yearbooks "Love life with no regrets" which is nothing like me at all. I'm not saying I don't believe in it, but it's not something I'd ever say to anyone in real life. If I could go back, I'd be much more cryptic. "Dear Steph, The keys will always hang on the mantel. I'm sorry the jeans didn't fit, but you're smile makes up for it. Stay Golden." Twenty years from now, when your kids go poking through your yearbook, they won't know what that means. Chances are you won't either, but you might laugh. "Oh, that, Eric Mowery. Always a kidder." 

Today's find comes from Pelham, NY's Class of '48 Yearbook.

"Dear Betty,
     Don't kill to many Boys with those big brown eyes while I'm aw away. Hope your House doesn't burn down
                  Love
                       Bob Peterson
                          alias
                            "Pete"


See? Either Bob was planning ahead for the joke or he was some kind of serial arsonist (also planning ahead).

Unfortunately, I could not find a picture of Betty anywhere in her yearbook. Based on what her classmates were saying, Betty was a stone cold fox and one of the 'swellest' underclassmen at Pelham.

*****************************************************************************

Special Nostalgia Section! 

A time traveling Eric tells High School Eric the things he will regret about his Senior Yearbook if he doesn't make an effort to correct them before it's too late:

1. Do not wear a Smashing Pumpkins T-Shirt while you have your Senior Picture taken
2. Do not have all your senior info revolve around Marilyn Manson quotes. 
3. Do not actually call anyone that writes "Gimme a call sometime!" in the back of your book.
4. Lose weight

Oh, Youth, you were so entertaining. 

Confessions of a Comic Geek: Part One

I'm a geek. And, admittedly, a pretty big one.

Did you not know this? Surely, you must have suspected. I mean, there have been hints of this since I was young. My action figure wall in college, my collection of Nine Inch Nails import albums, my hetero-crush on Neil Gaiman...all of it pretty damning evidence. But if you have any lingering doubts, let me put them to bed right now: Eric Mowery is a Geek.

And why is this even a topic? Because last night, while discussing said geekdom, I had a thought: For years I've considered myself to be a fairly well read person; yet, the thing that I'm most knowledgeable about is still seen as somewhat shameful. Despite the recent influx of people hearting comics, superhero comics are still not taken very seriously. And if this is the case, how much brevity does my comprehension of comic books carry? Should I stop telling people I'm well-read? Where do I really fit on the Smart Smarter Smartest pyramid of social standings? Can having a brain full of Marvel comic trivia make me an literary juggernaut? Or did I only use the word 'juggernaut' because he is a Marvel Character? To find out, I had to break down my history with comics into sections. 

Read on, True Believer, you're my only hope.

 Part One: 

"The first thing I ever remember reading is also the first thing I remember keeping."

Uncanny X-Men #113 came out before I was even born, but I was given a copy of it as a child. When I say 'remember keeping' what I really mean is: the first item I cherished. Above anything else, I coveted this comic and kept it rolled up and with me at all times. On my mental shelf of nostalgia, it sits beside my Nintendo, my Smurf Guitar, and my light up Glow Worm; however, no other single item had an impact of my life like this comic did. Be it a blessing or curse, my path in life shifted.

The X-Men are Marvel characters, and Marvel is who held my allegiance throughout my childhood. I, like many other boys, quickly became obsessed with Wolverine, but also fell in love with Daredevil, Alpha Flight (I know. I was the only one.), and Captain America. X-Men was my most accessible title (they sold that title at the gas station by my house) so I relied on that to get my comics fix. The man working at the local Uni-Mart always tried talking me into DC titles, but I couldn't be bothered. In addition to reading them, I also drew the images from them, and this practice dominated many of my evenings.  

Part Two:
"No, no, stop, stop! You're far too kind."

     When I was a teenager, I knew a great deal about movies. Whenever a family member had a question about an actor or series, I was quick to answer, and this knowledge always brought on a wave of undeserved praise. "You're so smart," my Mother would say. "I can always count on you to know what I'm talking about." But (sorry, Mom) this really had nothing to do with my intelligence. It just meant that I spent a lot of time watching films and reading reviews. If I've told you I've watched American Beauty and know of all the actors associated with it, you think, "A lot of people have and do." But if I'm asking you questions about the themes in American Beauty, it's parallels with other films, and what it's trying to say then maybe giving a shout out to my intelligence is warranted. If only because I'm creating a dialogue.

      Growing up it was much harder to have dialogue about comics. Until chat rooms came along, a lone friend and myself looked to our semi-local comic shop to satisfy our need to discuss all things Marvel. This shop; however, always employed the variety of comic geek that would not waste their time reading mainstream issues of anything. And since my friend and I wouldn't dare read anything that didn't have a guy in tights as it's star, we were constantly at a loss for things to discuss. All of my dialogue happened with one other person, and I never once got to impress anyone with anything I'd learned.


My artistic ability excelled during this period in my life. I failed at getting my friends into reading comics, but I was very successful at getting them to appreciate the artwork I was pulling off because of comics. Eventually, I began writing and drawing a series of dailies that I passed around during lunch. 'Soldiers of Fortune' was my first but also my least successful. It was a straight-up superhero comic with a detailed backstory (well, as detailed as 8th grade gets) and complicated characters. It wasn't until 'The Adventures of Dickey' came along that my classmates began asking for these dailies by request. Dickey was a crudely drawn superhero who used his..well, I WAS IN EIGHTH GRADE! Come on. Seriously. How riveting a story line does one expect from an thirteen year old? Anyway, everyone loved Dickey. Yet, it was impossible to have a conversation about it. I marched onward, falling back on stupid humor, and waiting for the right moment to say, "Hey, if you like my comic, why don't you check these out?" And just when that moment finally arose...
    
...High School happened.

To Be continued!

   

With A Capital D

"What was the plate number again? Oh, right. Very funny, smart ass."

I have a confession to make. I'm a terrible drinker.

No, not a terrible drunk--a terrible drinker. Meaning: I've never been very good at drinking for a long period of time. Sure, I've been drunk before, and I have some fantastically funny stories that revolve around   intoxication, but when it comes to drinking over long periods of time I'm no good. I get slow; I get lethargic and I just want to lay down. All I can say right now to save my 'cool' is: 'When I peak, baby, I peak.' The raving madman that my friends adore may only come out between Southern Comforts 3 & 4, but when he does he brings both magic and mayhem. 

And then immediately needs to be put to bed.

******************   

Today's item is a flier from New York State's Division of Motor Vehicles. If you were to open it up (don't try opening it up. It's just part of the screen.) it would inform you of the penalties enforced by the state and the programs available to those in need of help. Most notably the 'Drinking Driver Program.'

******************

Completely Unrelated: Does anyone have any new music they'd recommend? Doesn't have to be something that was just released, just something new that you feel like sharing. Feel free to post it in the comments below. 

     

Let's All Go To The Movies

"What building shaped crater?! Damn it, we're lost!"

I find a lot of movie related items.

A Lot.

In the world of collecting we call this 'ephemera,' or 'things that most people threw away.' Take this sweet looking 2001 ad, for example. Made to advertise the first screening at Warner Hollywood's Famous 'Cinerama' back in 1968, Joe Everyman, who may have obtained this via local store or through the mail, would read the detailed info (located on the back) and decide whether or not he was going to shell out the $3.00 for this 'reserved seat engagement.' After ordering tickets, Joe would toss the ad and end it's short life. A short, sweet life mourned by all.

But, obviously, some of these things survived and are now being collected. '2001' is unique because the Hollywood Cinerama premiered the movie there just two days after it's debut in Washington, D.C. Is it worth a lot? Might be. But you'd have to be into Kubrick ephemera...or just really like old movie announcements. Or Arthur C. Clarke items. Or Cinerama items. Or...you get the point.

 <----Wizard of OZ ad. Nice shape but
probably worth pennies.

       Steve McQueen in 'The Reivers.'----->
       Hunk Factor...er, uh, Worth point:  $2


Most of these items are fun to collect because they are fairly inexpensive--or should be, anyway. They're not old love letters or  photographs, but I still enjoy them if only for the tag lines.



In a totally unrelated note: Last night's performance (see yesterday's post) was great! Still plenty of weekends left if you'd like to catch one of the showings.

Shameless Plug #1

Hello, Blogosphere. Good to see you. Me? Oh, I'm fine. You're looking tip-top though. Been working out? No? So you just always look this good? Hmph. I would hate you if I didn't love you so much. And I do love you. So much. 

Blogosphere, I need to talk to you about something. I'm in a play called '4:48: Psychosis' that opens tonight, and I was hoping you could help me spread the word to those who might be interested in coming. It's an emotional piece--very experimental--and deals with Depression and Suicide. We'll be staging this at the Manny Fried Playhouse/Subversive Theatre located at 255 Great Arrow Avenue (right off of Elmwood). It stars Rebecca Ward, Sara Ball, and Myself. Brian Zybala is directing; Rachel Zeller is stage managing. 


We would all love and appreciate any support, Blogosphere. 




Check out additional info here.   

Everything Was Different

Before graduating from LAHS, I was required to give a presentation in my English class about what I wanted to do with my life. I chose 'Become Famous' (I'm not lying) and outlined the many different ways in which that could happen. Along with a paper, cited sources, and oral presentation, an interview was also to be performed with someone in a related field. Since Lewistown had no movie stars or famous musicians, I chose Matt Wagner, a comic book writer and artist that was, strangely, living in my town while working on a book called 'Mage' for Dark Horse Comics. I found Matt's name in the local phone book and (probably) freaked him out when I called to ask about his life, his income, and his fame. My results weren't as glamorous as I wanted them to be so, for the sake of graduation, I just made things up. Mrs. Everhart, I'm sorry for lying. I know you're probably sitting at home, reading my blog, crying about this while simultaneously picking out all of my punctuation errors, but, let's face it: You loved having me as a student.  You allowed my senior project to be 'Become Famous.' You were going to pass me anyway.

And now that all my dirty laundry has been aired, let's focus our attention on today's find.

 Everything Was Different is comprised of interviews done by a group of very honest & trustworthy Hunter High School students in the Spring of 1986. Their objective was to talk with Seniors affiliated with the Stanley Isaacs Center Neighborhood Center in New York as a way to challenge age segregation. This booklet, which, I'm assuming, saw very limited publication, is a collection of said interviews--uncensored and typed exactly as spoken.

The seniors--and participating students--are identified in the front of the book, but their names are missing from the interview exerts in the pages that following. They were asked a range of topics, including (but not limited to) War, Work, and Segregation.

Incredibly interesting. But, did I really need to tell you that?



It's hard pricing an item like this. It's uncommon but I doubt anyone (before this post, of course) would come in asking specifically for it. For now, it remains in the Mowery Collection*.

Suggestion: Read 'The Contract With God Trilogy' by Will Eisner. It's a fantastic look at how old neighborhoods came about. I kept referring back to Eisner while I read Everything Was Different. Even if you have no interest in this sort of thing, check it out anyway. The man was a genius.

*Mowery Collection is housed in my work desk. Example: "Would you like to come down to Old Editions and check out 'The Mowery Collection?' It's kept in Eric's desk. It's just the things he has found since he began working there. He keeps all of it locked away in 'The Keep.' Which is his desk."