Saturday, July 29, 2017

Part 18


A Trail of Crumbs
The Norinko Hanasaki Investigation



Research & Conjecture by

Anthony Servante


A Common Vision by the Norinko Ten 
Will I Be Next to See It?
(Graphic by Jerry Langdon based on Bridget's Description)



I shouldn’t have taken a break. Maybe I would have seen it coming sooner. Martin tried to warn me that he was picking up a heavy mantel, but he saw the pattern first. By the time I went through all the poems I had collected over all my columns and emails and laid them end to end, it was too late. Four more people are missing.
Martin Palomina, the Catholic school maintenance man
Elizabeth Johns, the English teacher
Bridget Segawa, my confidant in this casework
Suzie Namura, my confidant in this casework
And the latter two also my friends.

I’ve been in contact with the Segawa and Namura family. Before calling police, Mr. Segawa called Torinko to ask for my phone number. No one has it to my knowledge. The best he could do is give him my email. It was a simple polite notification that Bridget was not in her room after being grounded for bad behavior, including graffiti writing on her bedroom walls. Mr. Namura, Suzie’s dad, left me a message on Facebook. When Suzie disappeared she was on Facebook trying to reach me live. Mr. Namura entered her room after knocking several times without success. Suzie was gone. He saw my Facebook page and messaged me. I thought it was Suzie messaging me. It’s not like she’s done it before, but only she and Bridget have shown the resources to be able to contact me via routes other than email. Namura’s message warned me that Suzie had sent me a package. 

Yeah. It arrived the day before yesterday, July 27, 2017. I opened it thinking it was a book I ordered from Amazon or eBay. It wasn’t.

It was the journal of Norinko Hanasaki.

Luckily, I solved the puzzle of the poetry. Unluckily, I touched the journal. I have less than fourteen days to follow the instructions that led me to in the puzzle of the poetry. Let me explain before I proceed. There is a fourteen day window between the finding of the journal and the disappearance of the finder.

Norinko Hanasaki received the notebook in the mail from the Tokidoki shop in Santa Monica—a shop that went out of business this year. She disappeared on the 13 of June 2016, the first to vanish after receiving the notebook. She was the catalyst. Somehow the term “Buzzkil” was already in her mind before she got the notebook. But writing it in the journal on the day she disappeared from the tunnel signaled the ghosts of the McClure Tunnel to awaken. Norinko wasn’t the first. Priest Bobue Horaguchi made it clear that many of the homeless living in the secret pocket of the tunnel were also going missing with reports of their disappearances preceded by the flutter of immense flapping wings. Ironically, the winged creature was described as an “angel”. It is my contention that this “bird’ is Yuan Gui, the Ghost of Vengeance and Retribution, long known to haunt the tunnels where Chinese railway workers were killed after being betrayed by their so-called protectors, the Tongs, Torinko’s link to the Hanasaki mystery.

Miriam Hernandez, the school bus driver,  picked up the notebook on her bus on July 27, 2016, the day she wrote madly on the windows of the school bus, and Deputies Baker and Mitchell were called to the bus terminal by the dispatch supervisor; Hernandez disappeared on August 9, 2016, according to law enforcement called to her apartment after her run-in with W. Chris Dubois, the reporter tracking the Norinko journal himself.  

Deputies Steve Baker and Evelyn Mitchell confiscated the book from Miriam on July 27, 2016 and underwent a similar state of events as Miriam before disappearing. I could not gain access to the deputies’ actions after confiscating the notebook from Miriam.

Mitchell gave the notebook to Detective Joe Wu, chief investigator in the Hanasaki missing persons case. He, too, disappeared after fourteen days after touching the notebook on his desk left for him by Deputy Mitchell on July 28, 2016. Similarly, no

W. Chris Dubois, the reporter, pilfered the notebook from Wu at the middle-school on July 28, 2016, when Detective Wu visited the Catholic Middle-School to verify that the notebook did indeed belong to Norinko Hanasaki. Somehow, Dubois managed to sneak the journal from Wu’s files and hid it in the maintenance supply room where Martin Palomina worked. Dubois disappeared on August 10, 2016. Fourteen days later.

Martin Palomina, the school maintenance man, found the notebook in his supply room on July 10, 2017. He also wrote verses on the supply room walls and was sent home pending a termination hearing. He threw the notebook in the trash can in Ms. Johns’ classroom as he was escorted from the school by Security. He disappeared on the 23rd of July 2017.

Elizabeth Johns found the notebook in the trash on July 11, 2017 and locked it in her drawer before she went to talk to the Principal about Mr. Palomina. She disappeared fourteen days later on the 24th of July 2017.

Bridget stole the notebook from Miss Johns’ desk on the same day, July 11, 2017. She also disappeared on the 24th of July 2017.

Bridget showed the journal to Suzie the next day, July 12, 2017. Suzie disappeared on July 25th, 2017.

Just to put things in perspective, I received the notebook on July 27, 2017, two days after Suzie mailed it to me. On August 9th, 2017, fourteen days will have passed.

I have a plan. Based on the message in the journal, hidden in the final line of each third poem and the first line of each fourth poem, there seems to be an instruction to follow to close the vicious cycle of the journal and end the curse for those who touch the journal.

Before I let you in on that message, allow me to share the emails I have been receiving the past few weeks, the weeks of vanishings, Ghosts, and a winged Angel of Vengeance.



The Emails


Email: 
July 17, 2017

Anthony,

Damn. Damn. Damn.
The pattern. It’s not only a message. It’s a warning. Don’t touch the notebook.



Email:
Bridget, July (day unknown)

I wrote a poem for you, Mr. Darkness. Norinko tells me what to write. She says Darkness isn't your real name. I saw the Plumage Pvnk in my window on the school bus. It's not a costume. It's not a bird either. It has a broken smile. It thinks it's a man. But it's not that either. I know the face. I do. It wants to know if I'm ready. For what? To see Norinko. But Norinko tells me not to listen. But I do. This is what it said to me.

Three corners wide
Nowhere to hide
I see you  and you see me
Time to meet the judge of thee.

Thee? Who talks like that? Then I was afraid I'd forget the words. So I wrote them. On the windows of the bus. And on the seats. The floor.

At first the other girls giggled. Even when the  bus driver told me to stop over the PA system, the others laughed. But then the got closer to the infamous McClure Tunnel. Then the giggles turned to groans and the laughter to tears and sobs. Then screams.

The bus driver turned the bus off the freeway at Lincoln Avenue. He parked the bus. All the girls crowded around him, keeping far away from me. I kept on writing. Even when the driver took the marker from my hand, I continued to move my hand as if the writing never stopped. 



Email: 
Suzie, July 25, 2017

I can’t get the notebook out of my head. I found your address on the Santa Monica College faculty listings. I hope it finds you and you know what to do with it. Bridget went crazy on the bus, I was told. She touched the notebook the day before me. Norinko is talking to me. She’s telling me what to write. I told my parents, and they took me to the Temple, where Priest Horaguchi covered me with satin sheets, lit incense, and prayed before the Shrine he had made for Norinko. We must seek her out in the spirit realm, for it is there where she is trying to reach you. Where is Bridget? Her parents took her to a clinic for psychological counseling. The Priest nodded to Torinko. He understood and left the Temple for the clinic. I understood this without having to be told. Bridget needs to be here with me.

Miss Johns, the teacher, locked all her morning students in the classroom and forced them to write on the floor and on the walls. This is what they wrote:

In the end I couldn’t protect them all
From the perils that may befall, passing through
Did I inspire any child in following me here?
Forgive me.


End of Emails.



Random Notes:

July 12th—Bridget tells Suzie that Norinko is talking to her. She says Buzzkill is coming. “I’m going to see Norinko. Come with me. It will be beautiful, flying on the back of Buzzkill when he takes us to Norie.”

July 14th—Police called to Martin’s apartment. They hear thrashing. The kids from school gather outside his place along with Elizabeth. There are screams and shrieks within. The police break in. The place is empty. One cop says to the other, Just like the bus driver’s place. Elizabeth sees Bridget and Suzie. She calls them “Buzzkills” and coos from her throat.

July 24th—Elizabeth covers chalkboard with a poem. She flutters her eyelids so quickly she seems not to have eyelids at all, and the slits of her pupils are vertical, not horizontal. She tells the students to bring their books and papers to her desk. She tears the books and paper and spits on them, molding them, shaping them, round and round, building a huge nest on her desk. Some students laugh; other start crying. When one student tries to call home, Elizabeth shrieks so loud, the windows crack. Teachers come running in. The security guards restrain her till the police arrive. She is taken to a hospital.

Elizabeth disappears from the hospital while Suzie is waiting to visit. Bridget disappears from her bedroom that same night.

July 25th—Suzie mails the journal to me to talk with Norie. She climbs on the roof of her house. Her parents yell at her to come down. The police and fire department arrive late into the evening after the sunset. A morning fog rolls in from the ocean. Everyone sees a giant bird swoop down and carry off the child as she cries joyfully, “Buzzkill. Buzzkill. Buzzkill.” She is seen no more after that.


The Message:

Today I, Anthony Servante, received the Journal of Norinko Hanasaki in the mail from Suzie.

Based on the warnings written into the poetry of those who touched the notebook, I have 14 days before I disappear, less than 7 days before I go mad and cover my mountain home with crazy poetic ramblings.

Ten people. The Norinko Ten. 30 poems, 3 each for each of them. This forms the trilogy and the triangular message between the second and third corners of the poems.

From the message so far, we know that the Wandering Spirit, Elmer McCurdy, has been in contact with Norinko, helping her to communicate via the journal. She has a journal where-ever she is, and whatever she writes in that journal appears in the journal she left on the bus. The connection between the two journals has provided a doorway for something. Priest Hanaguchi says it’s Yuan Gui, the avenging ghost, seeking revenge for the sins brought against the Chinese railway workers during the building of the tunnels using the dangerous nitroglycerin. It was the job of the Triads, the Tongs, and the Hatchet Men to protect the Chinese from harm; it was the sacred oath of this syndicate. Torinko Hanasaki, the stepfather of Norinko, is descended from the Tongs who betrayed the workers in the tunnels. His stepdaughter was the first to be taken by Yuan Gui; it was a message to Torinko. Revenge was the message.

Norinko has sent a more hopeful message via the journal: Salvation and escape from her captors are at hand. In her poetry she has spoken of each of the others who are with her in, dare I say it, in Diyu. Some are being tortured in ice, some in fire. Yuan Gui has no plan to stop collecting souls for Wuchang Gui, the Ghost Judge, who sentences newcomers to Diyu. Only Suzie, who sits hovelled in a corner of the Level for Innocents, and Norinko are safe from torture. All others, including Bridget, for stealing the notebook from her teacher’s desk, are subject to the whims of the judgment of Wuchang Gui. At his disposal he has demons, ghosts, fox-headed dwarves, and giant blue-skinned creatures of indescribable horrors, all skilled in the craft of inflicting pain by fire and ice, inside and outside the human form, for all those who have entered Diyu before their deaths, including the Norinko Ten, are still alive, and subject to the pains of hell while they yet breathe and their hearts beat.

What hope is there then? Escape. How? I have less than fourteen days to gather poetry and enter it into the journal before Yuan Gui can force another victim to write his final words in the notebook. Without the journal, Yuan Gui will be forced to return to Diyu without its final victim, namely, me. Its means to exit and re-enter Diyu will be blocked. And when the human-headed bird with leathery wings re-enters Diyu, Torinko, Priest Horaguchi, and I will be there, at the tunnel, to free the Norinko Ten by closing out the notebook with the final poem, which I will write.
  
But I can't do this alone. I am asking for the help of readers, friends, family, anyone and everyone, to submit your poems of the Triad to me in this order: one, a poem of capture; two, a poem of pain; and three, a poem of hope and escape. Each poem can be as short as three lines, unrhymed or rhymed; no more than 28 lines in total, no less than nine lines minimum. I must fill the Journal of Norinko Hanasaki with your words to fill the book to prevent Yuan Gui to using the notebook again to continue capturing victims for a premature visit to the Netherworld.

Time is of the essence. On August 9, 2017, if the notebook has any empty pages, Yuan Gui will continue its abductions, starting with me. No one will touch the journal while I have it, and only I will write your words into the book. Even now I feel the pull to write in the book, but I must resist. Send me your poems, please. Let my poem be the last to fill the notebook and block any further abductions by Yuan Gui.

Either one of two things will happen. Part 19 will not appear and Anthony Servante will have disappeared. Or Part 19 will describe the final events on August 9th at the tunnel of the Santa Monica Freeway, where it all began, and where the release of the Norinko Ten will end this investigation once and for all.

The time for patience has passed. Send me your poems to servanteofdarkness@gmail.com, under the title Diyu. No need for titles, just the bodies of the poetry. We're beyond the suspension of disbelief. We need a leap of faith. 


Sunday, July 23, 2017


The Waylon Bacon Interview
Renaissance Man 2017



Conducted and Formatted
By Anthony Servante



Waylon Bacon



Meet
The Modern Renaissance Man



Introduction:

I found Waylon Bacon while I was pinching through the free handouts at my comic book shop in Pasadena, California. He had left sample chapbooks of his artwork from his website Frownland alongside Marvel Comics and DC Comics promotions cards, local comic book convention flyers, and Indie Comic samplings. After leafing through the chapbook, I instantly fell in love with the dry layered humor of Bacon's characters, at once the archetypes from today’s milieu but also the universal everyman and everywoman no matter what era. Here were the characterizations of "The Neighborhood" by Jerry Van Amerongen, the irony of "Mister Boffo" by Joe Martin, the surrealism of "Angriest Dog in the World" by David Lynch, and a pinch of 1950s Beat Generation antidisestablishmentarianism. As well as some 1960s Underground Comix insight into the far-gone human stereotype of its time. When I asked him for an interview, he graciously accepted.

As I prepared my questions, I found that cartoonist was but one of his talents: He’s a film-maker, a satirist, an illustrator, a music video director and producer, and a reporter on the foibles of humankind, 2017. In short, he’s the Renaissance Man of today. And in an age where everyone thinks they are special because they blog, self-publish, know famous people on Facebook, and justify their existence by preaching to the choir, Waylon Bacon eats people like that for lunch and regurgitates his diet into his medium, and not just “social media”, the graveyard of self-proclaimed talent, but via the traditional avenues of Art, Film, Music, and Illustration. He is the real deal.
Time to meet (wait for it)…Waylon Bacon.




The Interview:

Anthony: Can you give us an overview of the work you’ve been doing for the last year just to catch us up?
Waylon: I've been drawing a weekly webcomic called 'Frownland', as well as promoting a short film I directed called 'The Ride'. I started both projects at the same time, around 2014, so it's been a very busy couple of years!
'The Ride' is a dark comedy (what else) that is based on a real experience I had in my early twenties. I was running late for work, and ended up encountering this little guy with dark eyes and braces who offered to drive me to where I needed to go. I stupidly accepted. He drove this white Cargo Van right out of 'Unsolved Mysteries', and he claimed to sell Espresso machines out of it. No sooner had we started driving than I noticed the back of the van was just filled with junk - old coffee cups, newspapers, and some tools. It was terrifying! But it turned out fine - he was just a well meaning weirdo. The film shows all of the scenarios I had played out in my head while the ride was in progress, as well as subtly presenting ideas about pre-judgement and race - the fellow was Middle-Eastern. It's got amazing performances from the two leads (Clinton Roper Elledge and ArmenBabasoloukian) and played at a number of festivals around California. It's really funny and horrifying all at the same time!

I've also been contributing art and covers to Beatdom, which is a literary magazine devoted to the Beats. It's great, because I get assigned the task of drawing people like Charles Bukowski and Burroughs, who have all of my favorite facial characteristics -- sunken eyes and big noses. I recently did their ten year anniversary cover and got to draw almost all of the Beats, plus pay tribute to Berkeley's recently defunct Cafe Med, which was  one of my all time favorite places to hang out.



Anthony: Where did this artistic journey begin for you? Can you tell us about your beginnings?
Waylon: Well I was always artistically wired; I drew as a kid constantly - at home, at school, at baseball games, at parties - I was glued to my little sketch books. I also come from a somewhat bohemian family - my Maternal Grandfather was a well-loved painter back in Flint, Michigan, and my mother is brilliant with watercolors. Plus I hated, hated school -- I had a really hard time with academics and was actually in Special Ed due to what we shall call mathematical dyslexia. So drawing was both a chance for escape and for a bit of self-worth.


Childhood Drawing


I got interested in film during my teens -  partly because it was just so damn challenging, and because I like telling stories. I've spent more time ripping my hair out over film projects than I have with almost anything else in this life, but I've also found it the most rewarding. Making a film literally mutates your existence - it's such an intense journey, and you're a changed person by the end of it. I love that.


Early Interest in Film


Anthony: Let’s talk a bit about film. What have you done? Who are your influences? 
Waylon: Waylon: I've made a handful of shorts since college, although I don't think I really found my voice until I made a short film called 'Poster Boy' in 2004. Prior to that, I had been trying to figure out what it was I wanted to say in my movies - I really liked Jim Jarmusch, John Waters, and Terry Gilliam, but hadn't found how those elements would go together into something that was all mine.



Poster Boy Still


With Poster Boy, I decided to just focus on the visuals. So it didn't have a script -- just storyboards. The idea was to make something that would resemble a really grotesque live action cartoon. The 'plot' is that a chainsmoker is accosted by a mob of anti-smokers who chase him back to his apartment, where his jaw suddenly rots off from cancer. He is then forced into being the mascot for an anti-smoking campaign. It was a double-layered satire, because I smoke and I know it's a dreadful habit, but I also find militant anti-smokers to be insufferable.


Poster Boy Storyboard


I shot it on a VX2000, which at the time was really a big deal. Although it looks like video now, I thought it looked pretty damn good then, which was in 2004. This got into the now defunct San Francisco Underground Film Festival that was run by Peaches Christ, and I was encouraged to submit again the next year. I did one film each year so I would have something to show there, and I really got to develop my craft watching my films sink or swim in a movie theater setting once a year. Then in 2008 I won a small grant through the SF Weekly and made a short called 'Help Wanted' -- it's about a college graduate who's getting a tour of a prospective job at a warehouse, where he learns that they kill hookers and homeless people and then dismember the bodies for shipment to an undisclosed location. It's really dark -- I had a lot of negativity in me that had been building up for years, and I just sort of vomited it out in that movie.


Help Wanted Still 1



Help Wanted Still 2



The next thing I got up to was a music video for 'The Lumerians', who are simply the best post psychedelic band on the planet. All their music is highly cinematic. That was an interesting situation, because I'd just moved to Los Angeles, and the original idea I had for the video turned out to be impossible with our limited budget. So I went out and shot this thing with a crew of people I'd only known a very short period of time, with a hastily revised idea, that had to be revised continuously during the shoot, including a last minute recast. It was nuts!

I've had a website up since around 2004 that has all of my film work on it, although some of the older films need to be replaced with higher quality uploads (something I'm actually working on right now). You can go to www.waylonbacon.com, which has links to all of my film work, as well as Frownland and miscellaneous artwork 



Anthony: Can you tell me a bit about your work with The Lumerians? I’m a big fan of the group after seeing them in concert. How did you hook up? 
Waylon: I've actually known members Jason Miller and Tyler Green since the early 2000's - they were part of a group of people I encountered at Death Guild who, like me, didn't really fit in - we weren't goth, but it was a fun place to be and you'd occasionally get the thrill of hearing Bauhaus or Joy Division played really loud. We all bonded over a love of weird music, particularly stuff like Syd Barret, Roky Erickson, or Scott Walker - any music were the sanity of the artist was in question. Jason's still my go to for new music - his record collection is astounding and varied. They both volunteered to work on 'Poster Boy', with Tyler as D.P. and Jason as Composer, a role I'm happy to say he still fulfills! I can't imagine doing one without him.



Anthony: What other bands or artists do or have you worked with?
Waylon: Not many to be honest -- I'm not sure if Music Videos are necessarily my thing, although I was definitely interested in trying it out for the Lumerians! However, I've had offers come my way, so it might happen again -- people really seemed to like the 'Life Without Skin' video.



Life Without Skin Video (Click Here to Watch)


Life Without Skin Still 1


Life Without Skin Still 2



Life Without Skin Still 3




Anthony: Before we talk about Frownland, can you tell us about the comic books, strips, and artists who have warped your mind?
Waylon: Well, there were always Zap! Comics floating around when I was a kid -- and obviously that influence is still there in my art. I also love Gary Larson's 'The Far Side' and anything that Daniel Clowes touches. I'm also a sucker for the New Yorker.



Anthony: And how did all that turn into Frownland?
Waylon: I was working on raising funds for 'The Ride' and realized that it would be at least two years before the film was done. So to have some sort of artistic output while that was coming together, I started to post a drawing a week to my social media accounts, which I called 'Sketch Sunday'. This got pretty popular among my friends and co-workers, and I started to get sort of ambitious with it -- working in punchlines and characters. Some of my friends suggested turning it into a regular comic, and after about a year, I gave in, mostly because I felt like I'd developed my work habits to the point where I could reasonably pull it off once a week. I decided to call the strip 'Frownland' as a tribute to one of my all time favorite musicians, Captain Beefheart (it's the first track on his album 'Trout Mask Replica), and as a tongue-in-cheek reference to the content of the comic.



Frownland Early Sketches



Anthony: Let’s jump into Frownland directly now. What is it? Why do you do it? I feel like I’m with old friends with the characters when I read it.
Waylon: Thanks!

My byline is that Frownland is a single panel webcomic that dissects human behavior with cynical abandon. It veers between self observation and external observation - making fun of the world around me. I'm a frequent, maybe even compulsive cultural critic -- I spend a lot of time in my head picking things apart.

There's no main character, so that the comic has a constantly shifting perspective -- I might do one about an asshole customer, and then another one about an asshole employee. It's sort of a celebration of misanthropy as a perfectly normal human past time.



Three Misc Frownland Perspectives




Humor with Human Insight


It's done in the single panel format, which goes back to my aforementioned love of the New Yorker and The Far Side.It's really taken on a life of its own -- I did a calendar last year that sold out, and the comic recently went viral over at BoredPanda.com! It's been very strange, fun, and exciting.



The Frownland Calendar



Anthony: Where do you plan to go from here with your career? Any other projects that we haven’t covered?
Waylon: Like all day job artists, I would love to be able to devote myself full-time to my work, be it film or cartooning. If there's any rich benefactors out there who'd like to give a hand, I'm a self motivated worker with over ten years in the service industry and will bring that level of discipline to my art career. I promise not to do drugs or drink heavily while I'm on the clock. 

Anthony: Can you share a few of your favorite Frownland illustrations and tell us a bit about the inspiration behind each one?
Waylon: Sure!



1 (Introverts): I know plenty of people who are genuine introverts, who struggle with interacting at parties or sometimes even one on one, so I've been rolling my eyes at the current appropriation of this character trait. It's very much a white culture thing to be excited about being marginalized.



2. (Ashes) This is actually based on a conversation I had with a friend -- what would it be like to be at the funeral of an ex-girlfriend? What would happen if, during the service, you thought about something you'd done together sexually? It would probably happen even if you didn't want it to. But I changed it to an old woman with the ashes of her husband in the comic because I thought it would be less sleazy.



3. (Melting Component). This was based on my first experience trying to order a salad at Tender Greens. I was with my family, and non of us could understand the ordering process. What's a protein? You mean chicken? I found it all really pretentious. I also find it Class-ist, because I have yet to be at one of these 'deconstructed' lunch spots that isn't expensive. Other lesser restaurants refer to the toppings as meat and veggies. How bourgeois.



4. (Bad Eye). Whenever I encounter someone with a lazy eye, I look at the wrong one when talking to them. And I'm sure anyone with this condition is used to it, but I still feel awful! This one was taken directly from life -- I went to the store to buy cigarettes, looked into the clerk's bad eye, and then went home and drew this comic.



5. (City). I just moved to Portland in May, and was talking on the phone to my oldest friend about how I wasn't sure I liked being in such a rural and friendly city -- I'm used to Oakland or Los Angeles. We both concluded that we enjoyed being in urban environments and being around people, but had no real desire to actually talk to anyone! I think this is pretty common for a lot of people who choose to live in cities.



6. (What If I'm The Asshole?) This was drawn really fast, because I had to crank it out at the last minute! I was on my lunch break at work, and had no comic to post for the weekend. I'd run through a number of ideas, but they all seemed redundant. This gave way to an introspective bout of self-loathing which finally cracked the idea for this comic.



Anthony: Thank you, Waylon, for joining us here on the Servante of Darkness Blog. Mi blog es su blog. 
Waylon: Gracias, un café Americano, por favor.

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Part 17 

The Journal of Norinko Hanasaki 

The Search Begins


by Anthony Servante



The Journal of Norinko Hanasaki
Picture by Suzie Segawa
Taken the Night Before Norinko's Disappearance




Dear Mr. Servante,

This is Bridget Namura. Suzie was asked about Norinko’s notebook. Her parents are so strict that they didn't give her permission to talk with an adult that they haven’t met. Suzie showed me the email and I told her that I would track the notebook down and contact you. If it’s in the school, I’ll find it.

July 10, 2017 Mr Palomina, the school janitor, told me when I asked him that Detective Wu had come to the school to ask questions about the journal of Norinko. That’s what was written in the notebook: Journal 2016 Norinko Hanasaki. Wu was asking everyone about it. He also said a newspaper man came looking for Wu because he had heard about the notebook from Miss Hernandez, the bus driver who was fired last year. She was arrested for writing on the bus and the deputies came and found the notebook on her. She was taken in so Wu could ask her questions, but Wu said that she was “not all there”. The janitor made a swirl with his finger above his ear, like she was crazy or something. Before Wu left, however, the notebook disappeared. The reporter, the janitor thinks, must have taken it. And Mr. Palomina thinks that it’s hidden in the school. The last person he talked with was the janitor. That means the janitor’s room was open while Wu and the reporter talked. That would be a good place to hide it. The janitor agreed and said he would look for it.


July 11, 2017 After my last class, I went to the supply room; the janitor wasn’t there. Mr. Palomina’s supply room was open. I went inside and closed the door. Then I switched on the light. The walls were covered with words and sentences. Like poetry written in different directions. Up one wall, across the ceiling and back down the other wall. His locker was moved over about two feet. I could see the drag mark on the floor where he pulled it away from the wall. There was something behind the wall. The notebook! And then there’s the poetry. Again. The bus driver wrote poetry. And she was the first one to find the journal. Now the janitor. The reporter, too, wrote on his apartment walls. 

As I copied the poems off the supply room walls, Mr. Palomina entered the room. I asked him why he wrote these things. He said, You told me to. No I didn't. The journal was behind my locker, just like you said. It showed me the words. You were right. About what? I asked. Buzzkill is alive. He's coming. He knows who's who and what's what. Don't be a Buzzkill. The real one is coming. 

That's when Principal Mayhew came in. She ordered Mr. Palomina to her office, but he didn't go. He pointed at me and yelled, Don't be a Buzzkill. He's coming.
.
The Principal called Security on her talkie. She told me to go to the Nurse's and wait there for her.
But I went home instead.

July 12, 2017 After my last class the next day, I asked Miss Johns, the English teacher, if she knew anything about the two deputies who arrested the bus driver. She said that they don’t work for the department anymore. And Detective Wu, who was in charge of Missing Persons, quit. They think. Rumors, according to Miss Johns, say that the two deputies were found without clothes, tattooed in Chinese symbols. She said she doesn’t know how such rumors get started. Yeah, right?! She’s the Gossip Queen of the school. That’s why I knew she was the one to ask about the deputies. So that means everyone, except maybe Wu, wrote something somewhere after finding the notebook. 

Miss Johns asked me to throw away the trash, that the janitor didn’t throw it away last night. Rumors were that Mr. Palomina was suspended. I picked up the trash basket, and there it was. In the trash. Norinko’s Tokidoki notebook. Miss Johns reached over and pulled it out of the can and opened the cover. It read: Journal 2016 Norinko Hanasaki. I watched her lock it in the bottom drawer of her old wood desk. Then she told me that she was going to see the Principal and ask about the janitor.

When she left, I opened the unlocked upper drawer and reached down to get the notebook. Then I put back the drawer. I once saw them do that on TV in an old black and white movie. The old drawers each have a lock, but they can be lifted off the rails, revealing what’s in the drawer below. I put the notebook in my backpack and went to catch the school bus home. Suzie’s mom now pick her up after school, so I ride the bus alone now. I’ll look at the notebook when I get home.

As I was about to leave, Miss Johns stopped me and asked why I looked so scared. Before I could answer, she said, Oh, you must have heard that Mr. Palomina was sent home for cussing at the children. I heard you had a run-in with him. You should have told me. I nodded yes. Principal Mayhew told him to go home or the police would be called. Bridget, I think you better go straight home. Strange things are going on at this school.

At Home that night. The poetry in the notebook is the same as the poetry in Part 16 on Mr. Reaves Blog. Except there’s a new one. Here it is:

Neither bird nor fowl
Witness to the great fall
Blind except for sight
Guided by the holy light
Neither weep nor bawl
Either creep or crawl
Prepare to enter the great hall
It is there I hear the call. 

I’m pretty sure it’s the janitor’s poem. I checked my notes and it’s the same thing I copied from the walls of his supply room. But this is not his writing. It’s Norinko’s. I need to show it to Suzie. I’ll email you after she looks at it. She knows Norinko’s writing better than I do.


July 13, 2017 When Suzie opened the notebook, she gasped. It's Norinko's writing alright, she said. I knew it. I put the notebook in my backpack after Suzie read the poetry. It said it sounded familiar, like the poetry on the blog investigation. I told her that's what I thought too. For a second it seemed like we thought the same thing, but we both shook our head no at the same time and laughed. How could Norinko be trying to communicate with us anyway, right?

After school, I rode home with Suzie and her mom. Suzie and I got permission from Mrs. Segawa, Suzie’s mom, about driving by Mr. Palomina’s home a few blocks from the school. She said yes and said she was proud that we were worried about him. Suzie and I walked up to his front door. His dog was’t there. It’s usually a friendly dog. It barks but it never bites. It was hiding under the porch. When we reached the porch, the little Chihuahua yapped and nipped at the air just as the front door swung open. The janitor came out without any clothes, covered in ink, with Chinese characters on his face, chest, arms, legs. He screamed, Don’t be a buzzkill. Don’t be a buzzkill.

Mrs. Segawa yelled at us to get back in the car. We drove off. I don’t know Chinese, but I know Suzie and her mom do, so I asked, What did the characters say? Mrs. Segawa shook her head no as if telling Suzie not to tell me, but she said anyway, It said, I’m coming. 13. That’s all it said. I’m coming. 13.

What should I do now, Mr. Servante? Please help us. We’re all scared.








Friday, July 14, 2017

Zombies, Ghouls, and Gods 
July 14, 2017
Guest Blogger: David Gerrold


Duane Jones, the Tragic Hero




Thinking about 
"Night of the Living Dead"

by David Gerrold


This was the film that started the modern zombie genre.

The film can be seen as a parable -- at the end, the rescuers shoot the one survivor, the black guy. They don't see him as human either. They see him as another zombie.

And that's the parable -- that we are dividing ourselves into us and them. Zombie stories are a justification for killing those we no longer regard as human. And in the first of the genre, it was the black guy who was considered less than human. It couldn't be more obvious than that.

We spend ninety minutes seeing this guy as a hero -- and the fat white rednecks take him out with the same dispassionate glee as if they were shooting rabbits.


The Window: Where Hero & Victim Blur


But since then, the zombie story has become a substantial part of our culture, spawning enough sequels, imitations, rip-offs, and franchise-squatters, that the whole zombie thing has become its own subgenre of horror.

Okay, fine. So far.

But our entertainment choices reveal not only who we are, but also who we want to be, what we expect and what we aspire to.

Where films used to end on an upbeat note -- "Oh, fiddle-dee-dee, I'll get him back. Tomorrow is another day." -- today, most modern SF films tend toward dystopia.

We we used to have Destination Moon and Conquest of Space and 2001 and all the other outward-pointed adventures that said we can do better, now every time we go out there, we end up getting eaten or beaten -- or we bring something awful back with us. Species and Life and Green Slime and The Stuff.

Instead of Tomorrowland the vision, we get Tomorrowland, the broken promise. We get Maze Runner and Hunger Games and Divergent and Resident Evil and all the other stories where we have been divided into Eloi and Morlocks -- and a few brave heroes who will shoot the Morlocks to save the frightened Eloi (so they can fuck them later on.)

What it is -- once you get past the actual movies -- is the creation of a terrible terrifying context: that we must divide the human race into us v. them, and once we do that, we the US are justified in shooting THEM. Because they're not human. They're zombies. They're undead. They're vampires and ghouls and untermenschen. They are a threat to us and we are justified in shooting them.

Like the black guy at the end of Night of the Living Dead.


George Kosana (actor with bullets) leads a mob of US
to hunt down THEM.


And like it or not -- that is one of the ways we are unconsciously justifying the polarization of our society. We are training ourselves to think of ourselves as "the good guy" -- and the mob that opposes us aren't humans, they're zombies, and that's why we should militarize our police to use deadly force on all those zombies that want to rip our flesh and eat our brains and mooch off our taxes.

Have you ever noticed though -- that when the so-called good guys are holed up in a mall or a supermarket or even a fortress, they start fighting among themselves -- and too often, they reveal themselves as anything but "the good guys?"

But that's the point that we tend to miss. We think we're the ones who are going to survive whatever chaos is coming. We never consider that we might end up as one of the shabby shambling horde of undead things, do we?

We never consider that we might be the targets.


Biography: 

David Gerrold was barely out of his teens when he wrote the script "The Trouble With Tribbles" for the classic television series "Star Trek". Nominated for a Hugo Award, it was listed by "Playboy" magazine as one of the 50 Greatest Television Episodes of All Time. And in a 1997 FOX TV special it ranked as the most popular science fiction episode on television of all time. He has written dozens of novels and twice has been nominated for both the Hugo and the Nebula awards. His novelette "The Martian Child" won the SF triple crown: the Hugo Award, the Nebula Award, and the Locus Readers Poll as Best Novelette. In addition to novel writing, he has written television scripts for "Babylon 5", "Tales from the Darkside", and "The Twilight Zone". He served as a story editor/producer for the first season of "Star Trek: The Next Generation". A frequent guest at SF conventions here and in Europe, he began a charity in 1988 in which money earned from charging one dollar for autographs -- plus profits from the sale of other SF memorabilia -- is donated to AIDS Project Los Angeles.


Amazon Catalog: https://www.amazon.com/David-Gerrold/e/B000AQ1PQM/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1500081359&sr=8-1
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/david.gerrold?ref=br_rs
Website: d.gerrold@gmail.com



Available on Facebook: Click Here to Order


Three and a half gigabytes of science fiction goodies!

The David Gerrold Megapack is a 4gb flash drive containing a half million words of short stories, novelettes, short novels, and even two novels that have never been available in bookstores. PLUS preview chapters of THE WAR AGAINST THE CHTORR, BOOKS FIVE and SIX!


Also included are a fascinating collection of audio and video interviews, two unproduced scripts. PLUS the video of Uncle Daddy Will Not Be Invited, a remarkable play written and directed by David Gerrold in 2013.

And every flash drive is individually autographed.

These were produced in a limited edition for the 2015 World Science Fiction Convention, where David Gerrold was one of the Guests of Honor. Since then, they have only been available at conventions where David Gerrold has been a guest.

All of the stories are available in four different formats: mobi, epub, pdf, and rtf, so you can copy them to any e-reader you have, or read them on your laptop or desktop. As you can see from the photo, the tab unfolds to plug into any standard USB port so you can copy the files to a computer and from there to an e-reader.

STORIES:
A Method For Madness Preview Chapters (CHTORR!)
A Mild Case of Death (short story)
Actual Comments from Lunar Tourists (vignette)
Afternoon With a Dead Bus (short story)
Chester (novelette)
Crystallization (short story about the ultimate traffic gridlock)
Dancer In The Dark (novelette) (Sturgeon Award finalist)
Entanglements (autobiographical novelette)
Enterprise Fish (short story) (CHTORR!)
F&SF Mailbag (short story)
Finding Monstro (short story)
Franz Kafka, Superhero (short story)
Ganny Knits A Spaceship (novella, how to build a spaceship in free fall)
In The Quake Zone (short novel) (Included in 23rd Best of Year Collection)
It Needs Salt (short story) (CHTORR!)
Jumping Off The Planet (novella) (later expanded to an award-winning YA book.)
Night Train To Paris (short story) (Bram Stoker Award Winner)
Nowhere Man (novella) (high school revenge)
Pickled Mongoose (a Martian Child story)
Sales of a Deathman (short story)
Spiderweb (short story)
The 50-Cent Computer (short story)
The Bag Lady (stunning short story about a different kind of superhero)
The Case of the Green Carnation (short story) (Sherlock Holmes meets Oscar Wilde)
The Gathering (short story)
The Great Pan-American Airship Mystery or Why I Murdered Robert Benchley (short story) (Deco-Punk)
The Involuntary Human is Dragged Kicking and Screaming Into Consciousness by the Cosmic Badger (text of speech delivered to MENSA)
The Kennedy Enterprise (short story) (What if JFK had gone to Hollywood?)
The Martian Child (novelette) (Hugo, Nebula, Locus award winner) (Sturgeon award finalist)
The Old Science Fiction Writer (vignette)
The Quotebook of Solomon Short (2015 Collection)
The Seminar From Hell (short story) (It's all about the marketing)
The Spell (short story)
The Thing In The Back Yard (novelette)
Turtledome (novella) (lunar scouting outing)

PLUS TWO HARD-TO-FIND NOVELS:
Jacob (a different kind of vampire story)
thirteen, fourteen, fifteen o'clock (the most ambitious novel David Gerrold has ever written)

SCRIPTS:
Blood And Fire (That famous unproduced script for STAR TREK: TNG)
Nightsiders (unproduced vampire script)
Uncle Daddy Will Not Be Invited (script of the play)

AUDIO:
David Gerrold reads The Martian Chlid novelette
David Gerrold at Irvine Library, recorded live.

VIDEO:
Gerrold on his next novel
Gerrold on road trips, food, and George R.R. Martin
Gerrold on writing
Gerrold on Worlds of Wonder
(and more)

BONUS VIDEO:
Uncle Daddy Will Not Be Invited (video of the premiere performance)

If you have read this far, then you can see this is an extraordinary collection of some of the best of David Gerrold's work, spanning nearly half a century of success in the science fiction and fantasy genres.

This is a limited offer and may not be available again anytime soon.

Thanks for considering. Thanks in advance for buying.

This is a value easily worth $150 if you bought all these things separately, but we're making it available for only $45, plus $5 for shipping/handling. Pay by Paypal to d.gerrold@gmail.com. Please include your shipping address, Paypal doesn't always do it automatically.

If you want to pay by check instead, write to d.gerrold@gmail.com.

Thanks again!

Tuesday, July 4, 2017

The Cynic Movie Critic

Baby Driver (2017)
Directed & Written by Edgar Wright
Starring Jamie Foxx, Jon Hamm, & Kevin Spacey





There's a basic rule in storytelling: All the parts of the story must fit together. If it's a good story, one part leads to another part, and that part to another part, until the final part gives you a complete picture. If it's a bad movie, there are parts in the story that don't belong there, and even if they were removed from the story, the remaining parts would still tell the same tale. Movies with superfluous parts don't necessarily mean they're automatically bad, but it does mean they are not a complete picture. So we can enjoy a lot of the parts and have a good time, but one will most likely forget the story as soon as it is over. The complete picture story can be heard again and again, and with each telling some new meaning can be interpreted, some new combination of the parts can relay an underlying subplot that one didn't catch on the first telling of the story. 

If you watch The Big Bang Theory TV show, you probably know that Amy, Sheldon's girlfriend, pointed out that in the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) Indiana Jones was a superfluous character, that the movie would have played out the same even if Jones were removed from the movie. This flaw does not make the movie any less enjoyable, and we do go see these movies because we like Indiana Jones and his adventures. Who cares if the story is incomplete and the Jones character is superfluous?! We like the big music score and the action sequences. 

Baby Driver is an incomplete story. From beginning to end, every move of every actor is choreographed to the soundtrack. The soundtrack may as well be a character in the story. It's like watching a fixed fight--with all the audience in on the fix. No one is here to watch a good story. It's all about that soundtrack. Let's see the film description:

Talented getaway driver Baby (Ansel Elgort) relies on the beat of his personal soundtrack to be the best in the game. After meeting the woman (Lily James) of his dreams, he sees a chance to ditch his shady lifestyle and make a clean break. Coerced into working for a crime boss (Kevin Spacey), Baby must face the music as a doomed heist threatens his life, love and freedom.

Got it? "Personal soundtrack", "face the music". It's a one-note film. Most of the reviews I read commented heavily on the soundtrack and less so on the story, because there really wasn't one. I'd be redundant to call it a "music video", but at one hour fifty-three minutes long, redundancy would be too generous a description. The movie breaks the fourth wall over and again to follow the script of the music score, from restarting a scene to restarting a song. The movie cannot move without the music to direct it. 

The actors, however, know they are competing with a soundtrack for time on the screen, and the better ones manage to upstage the music. Jamie Foxx owns this movie. He's menacing, devious, evil, charismatic, and doesn't waste one word of his lines to cue any music. Jon Hamm manages to carry his likability in his pocket for when he needs it; otherwise, he, too, creates tension from a simple stare or an implied threat. When it's time for him to deliver on his threats, he pushes the music to one side as he remains likable while he's trying to exact his murderous revenge. The lead role (Ansel Elgort) is that one-note performance I mentioned. This part would have been Oscar material in the hands of a young Leonardo DiCaprio or Johnny Depp. But in Ansel's hands, his IPod steals his scenes. One of his best scenes is the foot chase choreographed to Hocus Pocus by the band Focus. But are we cheering for the hero or the song? In my case, I was yodeling along to the music.

The audience I saw the movie with oohed and aahed everytime Elgort took off or put on his sunglasses. And this crowd couldn't tell the difference between 50s, 60s, 70s or any decade's music. No one even laughed when Baby mispronounces the band's name as Trex (T-Rex). This was not a movie-going crowd there for the depth of the story, but for the best music system to see the latest soundtrack in film. I'm sorry, I meant "hear", not "see". Or did I? The soundtrack played in super-duper LFX, Dolby Atmos. Which means it was loud and the screen was real wide. It was one of those theaters where you choose your seat, but no one pays attention to assigned seating once you're inside and grabs the best seats. Or maybe it was just me. Anyway, sit in the middle to centralize the stereo effect. 

So that's the best advice I can give you. As I said, there are parts in the movie that are superfluous, but who cares, right? So what if Spacey says in one scene that he never uses the same crew twice, but the same driver in the last ten robberies. Then in the next scene, we see the same crew from the last job and Spacey in a fit of anger calls on his cell phone for a new driver. Yeah, there's a whole bunch of scenes like that. Bad continuity. But hell, Rotten Tomatoes gave it a 97% approval rating, so what do I know? Oh, yeah, one more thing. Jon Bernthal (Punisher, Walking Dead) gets top billing but appears in an opening scene that sets up a big showdown. Then he disappears for the rest of the movie. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the role Jamie Foxx took over after Bernthal left. But what do I know? 

Cynic Recommendation: Who you gonna believe, me or Rotten Tomatoes? Losers.    

Sunday, June 18, 2017


Stephen Furst & Adam West
R.I.P.





Stephen Leaves
by Michael H. Hanson

The day after you left we cried,
fanboy you were our sweetest geek,
Doc Axelrod just went elsewhere
and Gonzer has gone up the creek

A kind and gentle thespian,
father to two beloved sons,
a talented chameleon,
immortal in movie reruns.

Never to be called the unseen,
a standout in so many parts,
Delta House pledge both large and green,
a fun sidekick among the stars.

Vir Cotto and Booster now wait
to fly your soul unto the shoal
of eternity’s blessed gate.

*************
RIP Stephen Furst 1954 – 2017






Dual Identity
by Michael H. Hanson

None are happy in Hollywood,
Petticoat Junction cries for you,
Tammy and Mara understood
the gentleness that you imbue.

One last Mars landing has failed you,
Geronimo guides your spirit,
Lady Chatterley bids adieu
as you wave to Bret Maverick.

Egghead, Penguin, and Mister Freeze,
Joker, Riddler, and Two-Face too,
pallbearers who will never tease
you for your silly ballyhoo.

Perry defends your last dispute,
the Rifleman swiftly lets go
a twenty-one quick fire salute
and laughs at El Kini Popo.

Quahog mayor,
sandbeast slayer,
You sit on God’s hero panel,
same bat time and same bat channel.

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

RIP Adam West (1928 – 2017)

Saturday, June 17, 2017

Poetry Today: Trends and Traditions
June 2017 Father’s Day Thoughts




Billie Sue Mosiman


The Real Father

He didn't make me.
Yet he made sure I could see
Truth, honor, empathy.
I was two and his little girl.
I was the child in his world.
He didn't have to stay.
He could have run so far away.
Yet through thick and thin
He told me by example how to win.
I didn't appreciate him enough
But as he lay dying with a hiss and a huff,
I leaned over my daddy and said,
"You were mine and I was yours by choice, Dad."
Now I told him to let go. 
I said there was so much more.
He sighed and groaned. I was his girl all grown.
He had made me after all and I'd be ready when he called.
He lives in me, my daddy.
I keep his memory ready.
He was there when I needed him while many were not.
I love him for that, I swear to God.
Sleep on softly and be sure 
I don't forget how in a world of chaos, 
You were my cure.






Rick Mohl



A Father's Love

Are you ready to go?
“I believe so,” you said.
I want you to know,
It's a new life ahead.

You grew up so fast!
“Not true,” you smiled.
Seems just days past,
I held you as a child.

Will you be alright?
“Just fine,” you replied.
You're such a delight,
You fill me with with pride.

Will you call everyday?
“Yes I will,” you confide.
Anytime will be okay,
Whenever you decide.

Will you always miss me?
“Do you doubt?” You asked.
It's plain for all to see,
My love for you will last.

“Will this break your heart?”
Only for a little while, I said.
No matter the distance apart,
I will keep your love instead.

Ricky L. Mohl Sr.
March 30, 2014