Category: Uncategorized

One of the things my therapist talked about early on in our sessions — and something that I didn’t quite get for awhile — was how things felt. I thought she was talking about emotions, because this was therapy and surely that’s what you talk about in therapy, but no; she was talking about how things felt physically. She’d ask me how my body felt after particularly stressful or emotional moments, and I’d offer some variation on, I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention, and she’d come back with her own variation on, well, can you start because that would really be helpful, thank you.

All of this is prelude to telling you that I can tell when I’m stressed these days because my lower back aches.

I think this is one of those things that I’ve actually known before I knew it, if that makes sense; I’d noticed over the past couple years that the first day of any given convention will end with me in the hotel room feeling a sudden pain in my lower back that temporarily makes me think, oh fuck, it’s finally happened, I’ve thrown my back out until it subsides and I blame it on walking around all day with my laptop in a bag. (This, for some reason, always seems to happen when I’m standing up after writing for awhile, hunched over the computer, and suddenly realize I’m hungry and should do something about that.) The laptop isn’t to blame; my age isn’t, really, either. It’s that I’m inevitably more stressed than I’d admit at the time.

I’ve come to notice the warning signs, and realize the lower back is one of two places I hold all my stress. (My left shoulder is the other; why the left and not the right? Would that I had an answer.) It’s like realizing that when I feel sad, I can feel it in the back of my neck and as a headache before the emotion makes its way to the bit of my brain that can name things. Or noticing that I feel happiness in the back of my head first. (Nope, I can’t explain that; don’t ask me to.)

Other people’s bodies, according to pop songs, are wonderlands. Much to the doubtless satisfaction of my therapist, I’ve finally realized that mine is just early warning signs.

I think everyone is at least familiar with the concept of having run out of fucks to give, right? It’s internet shorthand for all bets being off, for nothing holding anyone back, and the idea of someone being freed from whatever constraints they’re normally under, whether societal or otherwise. We’ve all thought, at one point or another, that it would be wonderful to have no fucks left to give, or complained whenever we’re feeling pushed to some imaginary limit that we’re getting close to that point.

Or, at least, that’s what I used to think it meant.

For a multitude of reasons — none of which were inherently bad, I hasten to point out — I found myself utterly exhausted by the time Friday rolled around last week. I was feeling a little bit sick, but also run down by a work week that was particularly heavy (and also my first full five-days-of-regular-work since the start of the month, thanks to New York Comic Con); there were also visiting family members, which was at once a welcome thing and another reason why I just felt “on” continually from waking up until going to bed all week… and then I got to Friday, and I realized that I genuinely had no fucks left to give.

But I don’t mean that in any angry or even energized manner. I mean it very literally; I was so tired that I struggled to care about anything I was doing, whether it was for work or for myself. Everything felt particularly flat and rote, as if I was going through the motions before I could make it into bed and collapse to re-energize myself a little bit. It’s not that good things didn’t happen on that day, because they did, it’s that I looked at them as if through a microscope: that’s good, I thought to myself very calmly and dispassionately. I should remember to be excited about that later. I was simply too run down to do anything else.

If there was one upside to this unfortunately thin day, it was that my head started making plans for what to do when whatever could be described as my mojo was suitably regained, thinking of ways to be indulgent and comforting in the face of the cold, wet weather and the lack of sun in the sky for the next few days. It was entirely unintentional, but instinctive, as if my subconscious was declaring, this behavior cannot stand. We’ll come up with a way to safeguard against it in future, if we can.

All things considered, I’d rather have had a few fucks left in my back pocket, though. Just to see me through.

Traditionally, in the aftermath of a New York Comic Con, I find myself wandering the streets of the city without purpose, enjoying the anonymity — no-one is going to ask for my help! — and the New York-ness of it all; in 2024, I wandered the streets for hours, listening to music and feeling at one with everything in an indefinable, utterly necessary manner. (It helped that I’d had such a bad few days prior that just not speaking and exercising alone felt really good, to be honest.) This year, that wasn’t really an option — while I had the time, I didn’t have either the raincoat or the umbrella.

Instead, I ran between awnings and storefronts and tried not to get too wet on my way to, and then returning from, brunch with a friend. And in the process, I has this strange, my-mind-is-clearly-overworked-and-going-places, thought that appeared unbidden in the forefront of my head: I think the city is trying to talk to me.

What had actually happened was that I’d noticed just how ubiquitous language is in Manhattan. There are signs everywhere: storefronts, ads, building names, fliers, graffiti. Everywhere you look in the city, there’s writing and it’s all colorful and eyecatching and ever-present, this cacophony of words that’s at war with each other: buy these bananas and STOP and this mobile plan is better than yours and by the way have you seen how cheap these burgers are. As I was ducking in and out of small places of shelter, the idea of, “what if there’s actually a hidden connective thread in all of this that I’m not seeing?” popped into my mind.

There isn’t, of course; it’s a strange science fiction idea that I’m sure has appeared in something I’ve watched or read — Danny the Street in Grant Morrison’s Doom Patrol but wihout the letters re-arranging to make coherent sentences — but for a brief second, an eyeblink, the possibility was in my head like the briefest of glimpses into another world where things are just that little bit more interesting.

I was eating toast, of all things, when I was struck by a very particular sense memory. Specifically, the toast I was eating suddenly tasted like the toasted rolls I had when I was a kid back in Scotland, and I was 12 years old again and eating the rolls in the kitchen of the house I grew up in. The sensation of eating childhood food again — even though I wasn’t, or at least, not exactly — sent my brain tumbling down a particular staircase that ended up with me suddenly realizing that there are all manner of flavors I’ll never taste ever again in my life.

When I was a kid, I had very specific favorite foods; it wasn’t just that I liked a particular dish, but I liked a particular dish as made at a particular restaurant or made by a particular person. I’m not sure if this was a latent super-taster tendency that dropped off later in life or simply being a particularly picky kid, but there were things that I loved that I knew very clearly that I would love even more so if came from one specific source. (I say “restaurant,” but I was a kid in Scotland; really, I mean “takeout place.” It’s where we all went; don’t judge. There is barely any Scottish cuisine if you remove the fish and chip shops, dammit.)

I remember with the utter certainty of a surly teenager that I loved shell pies but I particularly loved the ones from a local Italian takeaway. Was it really that different, or was I just oddly particular? I couldn’t tell you, looking back, although they probably used a different fat or flavoring to make it taste slightly different in a way that I preferred; the restaurant has changed hands — and maybe closed, then re-opened, if I remember correctly? — in the literal decades since I left the country, and the odds that I’d ever be able to eat that particular shell pie again are catastrophically slim.

Same with the frozen potato Alphabites — literally, fries but in the shapes of letters — that I loved so much, same with the slice sausage sandwiches my parents made, same with so many other foods that were favorites and so central to the hellscape that was my diet back in the day. All these foods that were comfort foods, things that could make my day better in almost any circumstance at the time. They’re all gone forever.

That’s probably a good thing; I can imagine revisiting some of them now and going, oh, this is terrible and then being embarrassed that I’d ever loved it so much in the first place. And yet, I find myself mourning those flavors more than a little. They did me a lot of good, way back when.

As I write this, it’s a week earlier and I’m still days away from flying to New York for NYCC 2025. Nonetheless, it’s happened; the same thing that happens every year around this time: my body decides that sleep is for the weak.

I think what actually is happening is that I’m beginning to get stressed enough about the trip — or, really, the workload that’s waiting for me during the trip; the travel itself is neither here nor there, given how little of New York I’ll get to see that isn’t my hotel or the convention center — that I’m tense enough that something in me can’t last more than six hours a night before waking up. It’s been every night for the last week — I make it about six hours of sleep, no matter when I fall asleep, and then I’m awake. Maybe I’ll get six and a half if I’m really tired, but that’s it. It’s time to wake up.

What happens when I wake up is that I make small, ridiculous deals with myself: I won’t actually do anything about being awake before 5am, because then I’m at least trying to go back to sleep, as unsuccessful as it may be. (It’ll be unsuccessful.) I can read in bed, but anything else would be giving in to the fact that I’m awake, so I hold off. (That said, I’m writing this at 5:30.) I refuse to actually get up until 7am. All of these little things to fight the fact that, for a week or so, sleep is an even more temporary than usual refuge from everything that’s going on around me.

It’ll get worse during the trip, because my sleep always suffers during convention trips. There was one Seattle trip — Seattle! No time zone weirdness at all! — where I didn’t sleep past 4am for the entire thing, and then just had to push through based on sheer will and stubborness, just because I was on the entire time, workwise. If I’m lucky, I might be so tired because of this current bout of sleeplessness that I’ll collapse the first night, absolutely exhausted and reset the whole thing.

Yes, my definition of “luck” shifts when I’m on a work trip, why do you ask?

• I can’t explain why, but 51 feels like “the second half,” not that I believe for a second that I’ll make it to 100 years old. But I kept thinking that this birthday marked a shift into a different era or phase or something similarly melodramatic, not that I know what it actually could mean or truly believe that it’s actually a thing beyond being in my head. On the plus side, I’m not calling it “the downhill slide.” Well, not yet.
• It’s actually nice not to be 50 anymore. For the entirely of that year, I felt as if the year was somehow meaningful, or that I should be doing something special with it, and all I was doing was… living my life? It was the half-century mark and a round number and surely that had some kind of deeper meaning, and what was I doing? Well… working, and taking care of every day stuff, and seeing friends, and the usual. But shouldn’t I have been doing more, I thought to myself on an all-too-regular basis? (Not really, and with what time? And yet.) I look forward to not putting that odd internal pressure on myself.
• I do wonder if I’ll stop calling myself “old” so much this year. For some reason, I complained to friends — you know who you are — that I was “old” after turning 50, prompting them all to make faces and say things like “50 isn’t old” even though they were a decade or so away from it themselves. I get what they’re saying, and if I’m entirely honest, I don’t actually feel old, and yet for the last year, I’ve self-consciously been arguing the opposite and I’m not entirely sure why. Hopefully, that’ll fall away now.
• I almost forgot my birthday this year. Prep for New York — I leave tomorrow — and other things just got in the way, and so I didn’t really think about it much, to the annoyance of people who’d ask if I wanted anything in particular as a present. That was oddly lovely, and I’m wondering if it’s going to be a new tradition. (Not the reasons for forgetting, but the forgetting.)

In short: What a relief.

September proved to be a very strange month, in terms of viewing — movies, especially. I watched fewer than usual, because I was watching more television. (Next Gen Chef and Peacemaker in particular, ate up a lot of my month in front of the screen.) But I also just… watched less, in general? I found that I couldn’t really settle into what I was watching often because my head was filled with work stuff or some other distraction, so I abandoned a lot of movies not listed below, unsatisfied and frustrated.

That said, I still managed to finish 28 Years Later, a movie I genuinely disliked intensely, so… there’s that, I guess…?

Usually, there’s some through line of my comic book reading, but this past month… not so much? I think the most noteworthy thing might have been a low key Kieron Gillen binge — The Power Fantasy, but also revisiting Phonogram, which apparently I do every couple of falls (The Wicked + The Divine is next, of course; Phonogram as superheroes) — and revisiting the latter Frank Miller Dark Knight stuff, which both holds up better than you might expect but also has so much less weight, comparatively. The Golden Child is by far the best of it, a fever dream of a superhero comic that isn’t weighed down by undoing the previous two series like Dark Knight III is.

(Wait, I did basically read all of Matt Fraction’s Invincible Iron Man run, all… 60-odd issues of it…? Well, aside from the first six issues that I read in August.)

The month ahead is going to be a weird one, as Octobers tend to be: the New York Comic Con of it all will be so exhausting — and so lengthy — that I’ll likely spend a week or so not reading, so… we’ll see how all of this turns out, all told. Anyway. Here’s what I read last month.

1. The Immortal Hulk #13
2. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #7
3. Hawkeye (2012) #8
4. JLA: Incarnations #7
5. Titans 2025 Annual #1
6. The Immortal Hulk #14
7. The New Gods (2024) #10
8. Justice League Red #2
9. Wonder Woman (2023) #25
10. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #8
11. Uncanny X-Men (2011) #s 2-3
12. The Immortal Hulk #15
13. Wolverine & The X-Men (2011) #2
14. Daredevil (2011) #s 1-2
15. The Punisher (2011) #1
16. All-New Venom #10
17. The Amazing Spider-Man (2025) #11
18. Avengers (2023) #30
19. Doctor Strange (2025) #450
20. Imperial War: Exiles #1
21. It’s Jeff! & Other Marvel Tails #1
22. Spider-Man ‘94 #1
23. Uncanny X-Men (2024) #20
24. The Legion of Super-Heroes (1980) #s 307-310
25. The Immortal Hulk #16
26. Daredevil (2011) #3
27. The Punisher (2011) #2
28. Uncanny X-Men (2011) #4
29. Wolverine & The X-Men (2011) #3
30. Hawkeye (2012) #9
31. Uncanny X-Men (2011) #5
32. Wolverine & The X-Men (2011) #4
33. In The Days of the Ace Rock & Roll Club
34. Alec: Episodes from the Life of Alec MacGarry
35. The Immortal Hulk #s 17-18
36. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #9
37. Uncanny X-Men (2011) #6
38. Wolverine & The X-Men (2011) #s 5-7
39. Magneto: Not A Hero #s 1-4
40. The Legion of Super-Heroes (1980) #311
41. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #s 10-11
42. Hawkeye (2012) #s 10-11
43. The Immortal Hulk #s 19-20
44. Iron Man (2012) #s 25-26
45. Daredevil (2011) #4
46. The Punisher (2011) #3
47. The Immortal Hulk #s 21-22
48. Uncanny X-Men (2011) #s 7-8
49. Iron Man (2012) #s 27-28
50. The Immortal Hulk #s 23-24
51. Original Sin: Iron Man vs. Hulk #s 1-4
52. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #s 12-19
53. The Legion of Super-Heroes (1980) #s 312-313
54. Action Comics (1938) #544
55. Superman/Batman (2010) #6
56. The Immortal Hulk #s 25-27
57. Transformers (2023) #24
58. 2000 AD Progs 2449-2450
59. The Immortal Hulk #s 28-33
60. Daredevil (2011) #5
61. Closer #1
62. Daredevil 2011) #6
63. The Punisher (2022) #4
64. The Immortal Hulk #34
65. Hawkeye (2011) #12
66. Hawkeye Annual (2012) #1
67. World’s Finest (1999) #s 1-3
68. The Immortal Hulk #s 35-39
69. The New History of the DC Universe #3
70. Superman (2023) #30
71. Justice League Unlimited (2024) #11
72. Justice League: The Omega Act Special #1
73. One World Under Doom #7
74. The Punisher: Red Band #1
75. The Undead Iron Fist #1
76. Imperial War: Nova Centurion #1
77. 3W3M: Foundations
78. Love Everlasting #s 11-15
79. Captain America (2025) #3
80. Absolute Green Lantern #7
81. Detective Comics (1937) #s 583-584 (First Wagner/Grant issues)
82. The Immortal Hulk #s 40-42
83. King in Black: Immortal Hulk #1
84. The Immortal Hulk (2020) #0
85. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #20
86. Detective Comics (1937) #s 585-586
87. The Immortal Hulk #43
88. Batman/Superman: World’s Finest #43
89. Titans (2023) #27
90. Superman Unlimited #5
91. The Flash (2023) #25
92. Weird War Tales #s 42-44
93. Superman (1939) #295
94. The Immortal Hulk #s 44-50
95. Detective Comics (1937) #s 575-576 (Year Two parts 1 & 2)
96. Cheetah and Cheshire Rob the Justice League #3
97. Superman: Leviathan Rising #1 (Jimmy Olsen story only)
98. Detective Comics (1937) #587
99. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #21
100. Uncanny X-Men (2011) #9
101. The Incredible Hulk (2023) #1
102. SWORD (2020) #s 1-2
103. Artificial #1
104. 2000 AD Prog 2451
105. Mechanics (1st Jaime Hernandez L&R)
106. Detective Comics (1937) #s 588-589
107. Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen (2019) #1
108. Star Trek: Celebrations 
109. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #22
110. World’s Finest (1999) #4
111. Trinity: Daughter of Wonder Woman #s 1-3
112. DC Worlds Collide #1
113. SWORD (2020) #3
114. Detective Comics (1937) #590
115. Batman (1940) #s 655-658
116. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #s 23-24
117. SWORD (2020) #4
118. JSA (2024) #12
119. Adventures of Superman: Book of El #1
120. X-Men of Apocalypse: Alpha #1
121. World’s Finest (1999) #5
122. New X-Men (2001) #114 (First Grant Morrison)
123. Valkyrie: Jane Foster #s 5-6
124. New X-Men (2001) #s 115-116
125. Trinity (1993) #1
126. Weird War Tales (1971) #s 22, 23, 30, 32, 40, 46-49, 53, 64, 68, 69, 123 (Day After Doomsday stories only)
127. The House of Secrets (1956) #s 86, 95, 97, 318 (Day After Doomsday stories only)
128. The Unexpected #s 215, 221 (Day After Doomsday stories only)
129. Strange Adventures (1950) #117
130. New X-Men (2001) #117
131. New X-Men Annual 2001 #1
132. New X-Men (2001) #118
133. Weird Mystery Tales #1
134. World’s Finest (1999) #6
135. Batman (1940) #s 663-665
136. Detective Comics (1937) #591
137. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #25
138. Uncanny X-Men (2011) #10
139. Wolverine & The X-Men (2011) #8
140. The Power Fantasy #1
141. Deadpool/Batman #1
142. Amazing Spider-Man (2025) #12
143. Fantastic Four (2025) #3
144. The Incredible Hulk (2023) #29
145. Marvel Zombies: Red Band #1
146. New X-Men (2001) #s 119-122
147. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #26
148. The Power Fantasy #2
149. Detective Comics (1937) #592
150. New X-Men (2001) #s 123-124
151. SWORD (2020) #5
152. The Power Fantasy #3
153. New X-Men (2001) #s 125-126
154. The Power Fantasy #s 4-5
155. World’s Finest (1999) #s 7-8
156. New X-Men (2001) #127
157. SWORD (2020) #6
158. LEGION (1989) #s 40-41
159. Guardians of the Galaxy (2020) #5
160. DC K.O. #1
161. The Power Fantasy #s 6-11
162. Blood Syndicate: Season One #s 1-2
163. Gotham City Sirens: Unfit for Orbit #1
164. Catwoman (1993) #38
165. Robin: Year One #1
166. Batgirl: Year One #1
167. Green Arrow: The Wonder Year #1
168. Dark Knight III: The Master Race #1
169. All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #1
170. Superman: Year One #1
171. Guardians of the Galaxy (2020) #s 6-7
172. Dark Knight III: The Master Race #2
173. New X-Men (2001) #s 128-131
174. World’s Finest (1999) #9
175. DC Universe: Legacies #s 1-4
176. 2000 AD Prog 2452
177. World’s Finest (1999) #10
178. New X-Men (2001) #s 132-134
179. Robin: Year One #2
180. New X-Men (2001) #s 135-138
181. Superman Unlimited #6
182. The New Gods (2024) #11
183. Titans (2023) #28
184. Batman/Superman: World’s Finest #44
185. Eternals (2021) #1
186. Phonogram #s 1-3
187. Young Avengers (2013) #1
188. Dark Knight III: The Master Race #3
189. DC Universe: Legacies #s 5-6
190. Judgment Day: Alpha #1
191. Judgment Day: Omega #1
192. Phonogram #s 4-6
193. Phonogram: The Singles Club #s 1-7
194. Judgment Day: Final Judgment #1
195. Awesome Holiday Special 1997 #1 (Youngblood story only)
196. Dark Knight Returns: The Golden Child #1
197. Detective Comics (1937) #2
198. Secret Origins (1986) #40 
199. Blue Beetle (1967) #s 1-2
200. Death of the Silver Surfer #4
201. Ultimate Hawkeye #1
202. X-Men (2024) #22
203. Battleworld #1
204. The Moral Thor #2
205. 2000 AD Progs 129-151 (Judge Dredd stories only)
206. New X-Men (2001) #s 139-141
207. Guardians of the Galaxy (2020) #s 8-9
208. Jeff Week 2025 Infinity Comic #s 1-2
209. Dark Knight III: The Master Race #4
210. DC Universe: Legacies #s 7-8
211. Dark Knight Returns: The Last Crusade #1
212. New X-Men (2001) #s 142-145
213. Astonishing Avengers Infinity Comic #5
214. Dark Knight III: The Master Race #5
215. DC Universe: Legacies #s 9-10
216. New X-Men (2001) #s 146-150
217. Dark Knight III: The Master Race #6
218. Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl #1
219. Detective Comics (1937) #593
220. Batman (1940) #666
221. New X-Men (2001) #s 151-156
222. Uncanny X-Men (1963) #444
223. Death of X #1
224. 2000 AD Prog 224-228 (Judge Dredd stories only)
225. X-Treme X-Men (2001) #1
226. X-Men: The Hidden Years #1
227. X-Men Forever (2009) #s 1-2
228. Detective Comics (1937) #594
229. Dark Knight III: The Master Race #7
230. Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl #s 2-6
231. Jeff Week 2025 Infinity Comic #s 3-4
232. X-Men Forever (2009) #s 3-5
233. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #s 27-28
234. Justice League Red #3
235. Die #1
236. X-Men Forever (2009) #s 6-8
237. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #s 29-33
238. 2000 AD Prog 2453
239. Dark Knight III: The Master Race #s 8-9
240. Catwoman (1993) #s 1-2
241. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #s 500-500.1 (Renumbering)
242. Absolute Evil #1
243. G.I. Joe (1982) #11
244. G.I. Joe (2024) #11
245. Transformers (2023) #25
246. Detective Comics (1937) #595
247. Green Lantern Civil Corps Special #1
248. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #s 501-503
249. Final Crisis #1
250. Green Lantern (2023) #16
251. X-Men Forever (2009) #9
252. Detective Comics (1937) #s 596-597
253. Batman (1940) #s 667-669
254. Die #s 2-4
255. Guardians of the Galaxy (2020) #s 10-11
256. Guardians of the Galaxy Annual (2021) #1
257. Robin: Year One #s 2-4
258. Final Crisis #s 2-3
259. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #s 504-509
260. Die #s 5-6
261. Detective Comics (1937) #s 598-600
262. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #510
263. Final Crisis #s 4-5
264. The Amazing Spider-Man (2025) #13
265. Final Crisis #6
266. Venom (2024) #250 (Renumbering/retitling of All-New Venom)
267. Final Crisis #7
268. The Invincible Iron Man (2008) #s 511-527
269. Die #7

I wrote, for work — I won’t link it here because separation of church and state, and I don’t want them to check referral traffic, not that anyone does that anymore — about the kid going to PAX West this year and having what could, honestly, be described as something close to a religious experience. What I didn’t write about for work was the reaction of those I was working with to his experience.

The short version of what you need to know about his visit: it was his second convention ever, and his first video game convention. That last part’s very important, because he’s a gamer and it’s something that I worry sets him aside from a lot of people in his day-to-day life. Sure, there are people he can game with online (and he does), but I don’t get the feeling that many of his peers are into the same things he is in the same way he is, and I think sometimes it can be a little lonely for him that not everyone gets (or cares about) his favorite games, references, whatever. Within minutes of being at PAX and walking out onto the expo floor — with its massive booths promoting specific games, or tech, or merch, all of which he’s familiar with ot at least understands the architecture of — he turned to me and said, entirely seriously, “I have found my people.”

The rest of his visit just reinforced that: all the vendors he spoke to got what he was about and talked to him as an equal (ignoring me in the process, wonderfully). He got to wander around and try new tech and, in the strangest way, find new parts of his gamer identity and therefore who he is, and it just felt like this really intense, wonderful experience for him.

By the time he left (asking if he could do it again next year, asking if he could do more than one day), I was pretty emotional; I felt like I’d been able to help him have this amazing experience, and I went back to the show office feeling all kinds of verklempt. A handful of friends who were responsible for organizing the show clearly saw that I was feeling stuff, and asked what had happened and how the kid’s visit was, and I relayed a longer version of what I just wrote, feeling the sting of maybe I’m about to cry during the whole thing. I just felt full of feeling.

Cut to the next day, and one of the friends in the show office pulled me aside to say that she’d shared how much my kid loved the show to co-workers at dinner the night before, and they’d started crying. “This is actually why we do the show,” she said, “so that people can feel like he did.” Another told me, without any sarcasm, that even if I wasn’t working the show next year, they’d make sure the kid got passes to the entire thing.

I think part of what made me feel so emotional about the whole thing was realizing that the kid was having an experience like I had when I got to my first comic show — the excitement of these people get it and also feeling less isolated for liking shit that no-one around me seemed to be able to more than tolerate on my behalf. But, honestly, part of it also became how genuinely touched the people behind the scenes were that a stranger had been so thrilled and excited and fulfilled by something they’d been partially responsible for. I really like PAX West; it feels like such a kind and welcoming space, even to me as a non-gamer. After this year and all of this, that feeling only got so much bigger.

I’ve been thinking about this essay since I read it last week, and turning over and over in my head quite why it feels so dystopian. It’s not that the overall subject matter isn’t dystopian by itself — my first reaction to hearing that Charlie Kirk had been shot, even before it emerged that he’d been killed, was a sense of dread that basically went along the lines of, oh fuck, no matter who is responsible, the Administration and all its supporters are definitely going to blame this on trans folk, and oh fucking look I was right. (One of the few things I like about that NY Post link I just posted is that it misspells “Biden” in the URL.)

(I wasn’t psychic, by the way, when I thought that they were going to blame the trans community; I was just thinking about the fact that, just a week before, the Trump administration was reportedly looking at how to take guns away from trans people and this felt like too obvious of a set up, in multiple senses of the term.) (That attempt to take guns away from people led to the unexpected moment where the NRA accidentally ended up on the right side of history for once.)

That essay, though. For those who don’t have the stomach to read it, the takeaway is that all signs point to the fact that Charlie Kirk’s shooter wasn’t necessarily politically motivated as much as they were… internet troll motivated…? “As easy as it is to point to these costumes as proof that Robinson was a far-right extremist radicalized online by 4chan posts, it’s just as likely that he was a teenage boy dressing up as memes he saw online. This kind of content is basically the water young people swim in now,” it reads at one point. “It’s also possible Robinson genuinely believes in antifascist principles. But his alleged use of random internet brainrot is notable.”

It ends, “We have let school shootings in America persist long enough that we have created a culture where kids grow up seeing them as a path towards fame and glory. Another consequence of how thoroughly the internet has flattened pop culture, politics, and real life violence. All of it now is just another meme you can participate in to go viral. Made even more confusing by a new nihilistic accelerationist movement that delights in muddying the waters for older people who still adhere to a traditional political spectrum. Many young extremists now believe in a much simpler binary: Order and chaos. And if you are spending any time at all trying to derive meaning from violent acts like this then you are, by definition, their enemy.”

The reason it sticks in my head is… I can’t find a counterargument that I really believe in. I think this is the nihilistic worldview that kids (a holdall term I’ll use to include, honestly, anyone through their mid-20s if not their 30s) are immersed in and using as a primary lens through which to look at the world. I joke, at times, about how frustrated I find the “roast” and “troll” cultures to be in general online, but the truth is, it’s not “online” anymore; it’s everywhere. The last election proved it, and this last week proved it even more.

I’m not sure I know where we go from here, even beyond surviving the fascistic reign of the next few years. (Do you remember that Trump only took office again less than a year ago?) There are times I’m not sure I necessarily want to know, either.