Holy shit! I’ve just capped Invincible, and the last seven issues, begin to end, is an all out war! I can’t remember ever getting a violence-gasm like this, with tangible plots and enriching characters, and such an emotional tidal wave to carry the action… THIS is what a superhero comic is supposed to be like! Robert Kirkman is much more than a writer! Having finished the conclusive issue of Conquest, I was breathing hard, my heart was beating so fucking rapidly… nothing I’ve read so far has been as exciting and fulfilling as Invincible has been recently, and I’ll be damned if this book isn’t added to my subscription this week!
It’s been a while since I’ve read any Walking Dead, and apparently, it was to do with the inclusion of another series’ first issue printed on the back. I’m sure it’s quality reading. I’ve no reason to doubt Kirkman or Image.
I’ve had to catch up with Astounding Wolf-Man, to make sense of the crossover issues, but I’m not entirely sure that I care about the series as much as I did in the beginning. It’s taken some interesting turns, but so slowly. The rate of change in the story’s plot is relatively rapid for a superhero story, but it takes two issues to set up a drastic change that can just occur in half the reading material. My exposure to the art also affects my view of the story, which I can’t seem to take as seriously with this pop-rock cartoon style. I know that they’re trying to steer away from being another gothic vampire/werewolf comic, but the character’s existence in the Image universe is enough for me not to mistake it for another horror story. The art makes me want to mock the main character, when I should sympathize with him. Maybe it’ll pay off to continue reading, the same’s happened for me when I stuck to Preacher, when I had my doubts with it.
I’ve grown to love Ryan Ottley’s artwork. It’s cool to see how it’s changed so subtley over the years, and the gore has certainly been amplified a great many times over. When Omni-Man slaughtered the Guardians of the Globe, I thought I’d seen some real hardcore shit, but goddamn!
Mom’s watching a documentary about some teenage asshole who killed himself. Fuck that kid. If life was so fucking terrible for him, none of those people should mourn him as much, giving him credit for being a person he wasn’t, honoring him with this documentary, glorifying the human youth’s desire for self destruction. Fuck that shit. He didn’t celebrate his own life, why should anyone else?
You may think I’m being harsh, but I don’t care. I face many times a day when I could kill myself, and I don’t. I’m not celebrated for doing what comes naturally, to overcome this wild depression without any fucking assistance.
