The first appearance of Superman
in Action Comics Number One
just sold for its highest price yet
at six million dollars.
That’s a lot of money.
That’s an extensive amount of money.
It’s astonishing.
It’s the best condition found for the eighty six year old comic book.
I hope the new owner finds the story holds up.
For an instant, the storm struck,
and nature threw its wrath down upon us.
All the water in the world was hurled,
a furious wave upon wave coming down
with thunder cracks too fast
to even notice the lightning preceding them.
It was the world seeking revenge for everything
we had done to her
for a moment
and then it was over
and the skies opened up again
and we saw blue.
It was like, “Never mind.
Reset.”
And we got back to destroying everything
we ever loved.
Please don’t tell my schoolthat I never returned the furniture
– or worse
that I entered campus after hours
found the depository of furniture
and took the modular makings of a desk
so I could use them in my apartment.
I still have them.
They still work.
I continue to write on that desk
so my education did pay off, after all.
Don’t tell anyone.
My fate is in your hands.
She circles herself
seeking ouroboros-state,
never quite succeeding.
She comes close
tempting attention
but racing when it is offered.
She meows for you to look at her
then darts away
lest she be seen.
I’d think she’s referring to another
but she doesn’t eat enough sweets to get Macavities
(ugh. Now I want to disappear).
This critter-cat makes no sense,
but she probably does to herself.
I wish I could understand what goes on in her head,
but of course, it’s probably “meow.”
On the bright Saturday morning, I woke up especially early,
excited,
pockets full of change at the ready.
I dressed myself as well as I could
so I could sneak out to the corner newsstand.
I had a designation with destiny.
Today I was buying Spidey Super Stories.
I had seen the cover:
It featured the mighty Thor on a stormy day
with our hero, Spider-Man.
Maybe the villain Loki was thrown in for good measure,
who can be sure?
It was breathtaking. It had to be mine.
I got up early to ensure the magazine would still be available
by the time I got there.
You never know when these things might sell out!
I quietly left the house
closed the door behind me
took the elevator down
and softly closed the building door.
The super was probably somewhere else anyway.
I probably did not skip down to the newsstand.
I had more restraint than that.
But I got there
and I handed my money over
and I got my easy-read comic book
and I took it with me to the basketball court
where I could drop it to watch the bigger kids shoot some hoops.
That’s where I was when my mother found me
informing me she was worried
when she discovered my bed empty in the morning
and had to track me down.
It hadn’t occurred to me
that I might appear kidnapped.
It could have been a job for Spider-Man!
But no, it was just a job for my Mom.
I got home safely that day
and I had Spidey Super Stories with me.
When I ran away from my Dad’s house
he just followed me
like 30 feet behind.
I didn’t notice for twenty minutes
but then he became
a comforting shadow.
It was it this way
we moved on together.
I no longer shop for books.
I do not want to own books
– and I don’t know what to buy for friends.
I enjoy looking at books at libraries,
though it’s often as good to check their catalogs
as the shelves.
Not as visceral a thrill, of course,
but you can cover more ground.
I don’t shop for toys,
as I’m too old
and I have too many clothes.
Shoes? I need to get rid of some.
There’s perhaps more music to get
but I haven’t yet consumed all the songs that I already own.
There isn’t much I want to consume
except food
and I consume too much of that as it stands.
I need to cut down on meals
but I’m hungry.
Shopping brings me little pleasure.
Saving, though, does.
I like saving money,
so I enjoy not buying,
which I am doing all the time.
Probably the greatest vacation of my life was to Rome.
I loved the antiquities, the ruins.
I loved the cafes, the streets that I walked.
I had a friend that showed me around.
It was great.
It felt life-changing.
I didn’t realize how until I got on the plane back to New York.
I started receiving Facebook messages in the air
asking my opinion
about what was happening at the club.
Nothing was happening at the club,
as far as I knew, but then,
I’d been away for a week and half.
How out of the loop could I be?
I checked on Facebook.
It looked like the club had been sold
and would be closing down for repairs
in about two months’ time.
Had they done this because I was out of town
so they had this window of opportunity?
I had no power or significance.
Nobody cared what I thought about anyone
– except for who had asked my opinion
about what was going on.
I guess some other people cared what I thought, too.
I fielded some other correspondence.
I was trying to catch up with the news
as I barrelled back towards the States
to learn the state of affairs.
Not everything was set in stone
when I landed,
but I learned a bit about the lack of clarity
with the upcoming owners of the club
the plans for a farewell show
and the time for renovations.
The club that I’d known and loved
would be out of commission for at least a month
or three.
At most forever.
This was all immediately on the heels
of the finest vacation I’d ever had.
This is why you must never relax.
Never let your guard down.
Never think you can take a break.
Never let your dreams get the better of you.
This is what happens when you do.
When the band broke up,
Roger and Basil and Phlegm all opted to start a new project
under Roger’s direction.
No longer just the bassist,
now he was the songwriter.
Now he was the star.
He asked a singer, Jenn,
that looked nothing like Carlotta to join him on stage
and do co-lead vocals with him.
Jenn also sang lead on lots of songs that he wrote for her.
Perhaps she was really the star.
They did all right.
Meanwhile, Carlotta was fuming.
She felt this had been the plan all along:
to disband so they could restart without her.
She had her own gigs
with her own fans
but she felt like there had been a plot against her
to take her star
away from her.
Maybe it wasn’t about stars.
Maybe it was about people being able to work together comfortably.
It didn’t matter.
Roger, Basil, Phlegm and Jenn
didn’t last much longer
than Phlegm, Basil, Carlotta and Rog.
Nothing lasts long in this town.
All fires die
eventually.
Dean is done with drink.
Problems with his gut.
Saves some pain,
probably saving his life.
Now he sees stuff a little more clearly.
The women he used to end up with
at Three AM,
he understand the phenomenon somewhat better now.
The friends he lost for no reason,
he’s found the reason.
And these days, he’s got an astonishing amount of pocket change
he never had before.
His clothes fit better.
He doesn’t get scratched up anymore
– nor do his shoes.
People seem to like him more.
He seems to like people more.
What is this twisted alchemy?
Maybe it doesn’t matter.
He’s just glad his gut doesn’t hurt.
jonberger 