Armagideon Time

On returning (2020-2023)

May 17th, 2023

First things first: I am incredibly lazy do not lack for well-considered (and self-serving) reasons not to do something.

This site has always been something I worked on when I couldn’t do the things I’d rather be doing — be it playing video games, napping next to the puppy, or staring into space for hours on end. Any notions of the pandemic shutdown being a golden opportunity to get back into the writing groove died a quick and ignominious death before the first week of lockdown had ended.

The only bit of self-discipline I did observe and stick to was to jump off the treadmill of “live service” gaming. While I wasn’t sure how I was going to fill the next two weeks two months two-and-a-half years, I didn’t want to spend them chasing the shiny bauble du jour in Destiny, DCUO, GTA Online, et cetera.

It was one of the wisest decisions I ever made, because the contours of my pandemic period experience rapidly took shape along lines which I hadn’t expected yet I probably should’ve. In the half decade leading up to the spring of 2020, I’d been engaged a multi-front attempt to revisit/reassess/reclaim/reconsider various artifacts from my past — rebuilding a record collection around stone cold favorites, obtaining representative samples of childhood playthings, consolidating my funnybook collection into trade paperbacks covering the parts I’d actually re-read on a semi-regular basis.

There was no grand plan involved, just the multimedia meanderings of a middle-aged nerd caught up in a nostalgia-trauma loop. That’s what has kept me from writing about it until now even though the notion of doing so came to me sometime last fall. My sense of narrative coherence kept demanding a contextual framework for it all, even though it was an impossible task. Diving into the nostalgia middens is a convoluted and very personal process. An old magazine ad for A reminds you of B, the search for which uncovers C which in turn leads to D.

Or you just wake up one morning and think “jeez, I’d love to play Burning Rangers again,” and a whole month of tooling around with Sega Saturn emulation flows from there.

I also held back from documenting this process because I didn’t want to fall into the performative “did it to blog about it” routine. That short pipeline lends itself to snarky zingers and shameless mugging to the crowd, which runs contrary to the whole reason I took a header down this warren of rabbit holes — I was doing it for me, not for the fleeting dopamine rush of pageviews and comment section plaudits. I wanted to be able to digest my discoveries, feelings, and reactions on my own time, see how they internally settled, and how they meshed with other shit I’d absorbed.

And again, I’m an incredibly lazy person.

The upshot of all this is that I plan on making an effort to spotlight some of the things which helped keep me (arguably) sane during the pandemic era. I think it’s a good fit for this site, which had a recurring focus on the conflict between nostalgia and reality as filtered through one grumpy old Gen X nerd.

If a greater framework emerges, great, but it’s not going to be a priority for me here. Expect some repetition when it comes to related items, because if I try to start grouping stuff together, I’ll never get around to writing about any of it.

I didn’t know where this process was going when I started and I still don’t, so why start pretending otherwise now?

…and so we reach the final movement of this year’s danse macabre.

It was a bit skeletal as far as content went, but my real purpose was to see if I still had it in me to stick to a daily schedule, even if only for a month. I apparently do, though I have no idea what I’ll do with this knowledge.

For now, I’m going to kick back and enjoy today’s dark celebration.

Recommended listening:

Though the role was silent and didn’t offer much in the way of facial expression, Christopher Lee’s turn as the bandage-clad revenant in Hammer’s The Mummy is an all-time favorite of mine. Lee’s lean but towering frame combined with skilled physical acting to perfectly portray the shambling menace of an undead powerhouse.

And those eyes! Dear lord, those eyes — capable of expressing the depths of rage, sorrow, and pain despite an otherwise silent and still visage. I can see why Lee wanted to get away from this type of plodding monster role, but I’m glad he took this one on.

Recommended listening:

GIANT SPIDERS! They like to interfere with road crews for kicks!

GIANT SPIDERS! They like to picnic in the grass!

GIANT SPIDERS! Always looking for a good deal on a firm but comfortable queen-size mattress!

GIANT SPIDERS! They greatly overestimate their abilities as pick-up artists!

GIANT SPIDERS! Sometimes they are powered by a rear-mounted 1600 cc engine with twin-port cylinder heads!

Recommended listening:

While love the entire pantheon of old school fight flick archetypes, I have a particular soft spot for the Invisible Man.

Perhaps it’s because he’s more sci-fi than horror, a tragic example of science gone wrong that prefigured so many of the characters which inhabited the superhero comics I read as a kid.

Or maybe I just dig the stylishly creepy aesthetics of his signature combo of full-face bandages and dark glasses.

In any case, the concept always made for an interesting on-screen spectacle combining the celluloid wizardry of the process shot with an assortment of wire-based practical effects that were old hat back when Euripides was a tyke.

Even the absurd bits — where a supposedly naked individual somehow leaves boot tracks, or fight sequences and the requisite unwrapping scenes which suggest that the transparent terror has six-foot-long arms — are endearing to me as part of the overall package.

Whether played as a tragic figure, comedic foil, see-through superspy, or Ben Murphy sporting a bedazzled denim jacket, I’ll always make time to watch some Invisible Man or Woman strut their stuff.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

Recommended listening:

Poor misbegotten creature. He only crawled out of his lair to catch a Guided By Voices show and maybe hit up that new barcade down the block for some craft brews and Ms. Pac-Man.

Little did he realize that he would be attacked by a mob who thought Monster was the best R.E.M. album, and did not care that he had seen the band perform at State Theatre in Kalamazoo — with The Three O’Clock as openers — on the Fables of the Reconstruction tour.

His last thoughts were of his collection of antique bowler hats, and regretted he had not worn the crimson one with the white satin band more often.

Recommended listening:

For Robert Scott Carey, this was the most terrifying day of his life.

But for me, it was just another Tuesday.

Gosh, I hate when I’m forced to spend the night in an old dark house and a decorative skull (which just happens to be in the room) falls on top of a small animal (which also just happens to be in the room), which then proceeds to strut and squawk around where only I can see it, thus making my roommates doubt my sanity until the creature indulges in a dramatic outburst and we all shout “A G-G-G-G-GHOST!” and get jammed up trying to squeeze through the door at once.

Always a bad scene, that.

Recommended listening:

The Legend of Hell House was a lurid, trashy rehash of The Haunting aimed at the jaded audiences of the early Seventies, but its sense of dread-heavy atmosphere is a thing of hair-raising wonder. That’s the reason why it has become a spooky season staple for me, despite the foreknowledge that I will be rolling my eyes when the final act comes around.

Recommended listening:

Bad enough to be cast into the infernal pit without having to listen to “Babe” for all eternity.

Recommended listening:

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