GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #1026: HE'S BACK . . .

  . . . The devil is here!
Smoke crack!
And drink a lot of beer!

To quote an old song I wrote. *ahem* Anyway.

Yeah, I'm back. Surprise! To no one except myself, apparently. I figured I'd miss GF after a few years and then say, the hell with it, and go right back to it.

But I missed you all. And I missed writing these things. Even though some were a real bitch to write (and many of them I don't even remember writing, as I used to do these while heavily inebriated.

I've been up to quite a bit since last we met up here. I'm pretty sure I'm not even the same guy who wrote #1025, there has been so much afoot in my life. And if that's true? I'm lightyears away from the guy who wrote GF #1.

Before I begin this next part, I'm going to quote Nixon. "I want to make one thing perfectly clear." I understand that the tools of literary critique are not meant to apply to real life. I have not gone insane. (I'm pretty sure I'm not.) I am not so far gone to think that a method of examining a fictional character should ever be used to examine an actual person, much less myself.

That said, remember Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey?

When I was a much younger man I wrote in my journal about a rare moment of jealousy for me. I was jealous of one of my friends who had traveled through and lived in Europe for having such great adventures and meeting wonderfully different kinds of people, and I wanted that for me. Not, like, I wanted to wear his skin and walk a mile in his literal shoes. I wanted my own version of it. I'd lived a lot of my life up to that point holding back on everything because I didn't want to take chances. I liked being comfortable. And yet my inner Walter Mitty always went journeying off.

I can count on my fingers the number of times I've been jealous in my life, so these moments tend to stick out. Except in that moment in particular I realized there wasn't a single fucking thing standing in the way of me living the adventurous life that I desired at that moment. Why am I sitting here bitching into my journal about something I have 100% control over? It was a moment of my revelation.

It was my call to adventure.

I have, indeed, lived an adventurous life. Some of the things I've seen and lived and experienced are wonderful, even if they were grim and awful in the moment I was living them. At the age of 47, I have lived what I consider a full life, and if I dropped dead of a heart attack tomorrow (a possibility, considering how my dad passed) I would die satisfied. I got my fuckin' money's worth.

But I did die. Kind of. Remember Doomsday? As in, how I used to reference the day I had to move out of my childhood home? That was the day I think I died. I dragged what was left of my wretched soul to the River Styx and climbed aboard the boat with Charon. That was the hotel I lived in for a month in Addison. It really was a nightmare of a place. A waking nightmare. I numbly watched the madness of humanity all around me, never realizing that I wasn't just a tourist. I was living there, too. I was trapped with the horrors, just like them.

And then I wound up in the underworld, aka Joliet. It was the most miserable time of my life, possibly because I wasn't alive. I was in some weird version of Purgatory, where I had to figure out my next, possibly final, destination.

I took the advice I used to sell on a bumper sticker. I chose death. Things were so rough I felt doomed. DOOMED. No hope at all. It was time, stricken, to face the true horrors of it all. Cue the ending of Angel Heart.

I somehow survived. Well, I know how I survived. I don't think I'll ever tell that story, but suffice it to say, I found hope again. Hope brought back my fighting spirit. I fought harder than I ever fought in my life for something, and I came out on top.

I was talking about this with a friend, and I likened it to the ending of The Chronicles of Riddick. I'd found myself suddenly sitting on the throne, stunned in victory. How the hell did this happen?

And the world bloomed before me, Samwise the Strong!!!

And then I told myself, dude, tone it down a little.

I am alive. And I intend to stay that way, at least for the next 13 years. I have to beat my dad's high score of 59. After that, if death comes a knockin', I'll be a-rockin'.

And now the return.

Welcome back to Goodnight, Fuckers. It won't be the same as last time. Oh, don't worry, these will all still be my memories and thoughts, history lessons and political rants. Plain weird shit. But we'll see where this takes us.

Tune in tomorrow for my tips on how to run for President of the United States as an independent and win. It'll probably be a long one.

[Warning: This Goodnight, Fuckers contains spoilers for the ending of The Chronicles of Riddick. You should have watched the movie first. Also, by reading this you agree to buy at least one of my books. If you already have bought one of my books, you must now buy an additional one or more. This document is legally binding. Sorry.]

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #442: THE ENDING OF THE EXPANSE

 So the ending of The Expanse book series is still sitting in the back of my head, and I think about it often. Here there be spoilers, so if you're still reading it or plan on it, skip this one. Seriously. There are major fucking spoilers from here on out. If that didn't get your attention, maybe I should add this giant fucking SPOILERS sign.

Now we know Winston Duarte's plan on how to beat the creatures that killed the protomolecule creators. It's a crazy fucking plan, and when I first read it I felt horrified and disgusted. The idea was to create a hive mind for humanity, meaning that we would lose all concept of who we are, individually, in favor of becoming one. Not too far from Jung's Collective Unconscious. In fact, it's an extrapolation of that theory. Can you imagine no longer being you but just another tentacle in the Cthulhu of life?

But I stopped and thought about it. Honestly, it's a hell of an equalizer. If you start out as individuals and become a collective, you suddenly know everything about everyone. You know all their secrets, and they know all of yours. Not just that, but you remember their secrets like you'd lived them yourself. It really would bring peace to the human race. Even the lowliest KKK piece of shit would hesitate in an act of violence upon realizing that all are one. You'd be attacking yourself.

At the same time, there's no point to peace in a hive mind situation. When no individuality exists, then what's the point? So fuck Duarte. I'm super glad that wasn't the route the authors took to resolve everything. They did something even better. As those creatures try to press in from an alternate universe, our heroes (one in particular) simply destroy the ring space, sealing humanity into whatever ring gate they went through to escape death and destruction. Humanity is cut off from each other, millions of light years apart, and the enemy is shit out of luck. I really liked that.

The characters. I'm really glad to see Miller again. The last we saw of him was in book four, and only some of that character was him. To paraphrase a great quote, I'm sure a certain character was glad Miller was with him, here at the end of all things.

Alex Kamal. It only seems fair that he has the Roci at the very end. He leaves the family he's been with for decades to be with his son and grandson in a part of the galaxy that would ensure he would never see his crewmates again. And the fact that he got no argument from the others made perfect and beautiful sense.

Naomi Nagata. Losing the love of her life all over again, this time on a permanent basis. Going back with Elvi and Fayez and Cara and Xan and all the other Laconian scientists back home to Sol. And she has no idea that her son Filip survived the incident that ended the Free Navy all those decades ago. I like to think they eventually found each other again, and they all lived happily ever after. There's just one more piece of Expanse fiction left, a final novella. I would not be surprised if it's about the end of Filip's story.

The thing that might still be Amos Burton . . . hold off on that one.

James Holden. The man who once upon a time made a rash decision that put all of humanity at risk of annihilation once again makes a decision for the entire human race, and this one works out pretty well. He's the one who sacrifices his life to defeat the enemy by destroying the ring space. His final words to Naomi actually made me tear up. And my gut clenched when he injected himself with the protomolecule so he could make contact with Miller again. So he could enter the egg ship and help Teresa Duarte confront her father in a showdown with humanity's fate as the stakes. But there is one thing that Miller says to him before he dies. He reminds Holden of his own fate, stuck in this protomolecule Purgatory with the rest of those who died screaming on Eros. Is Holden there now? I hope not. But he probably is.

And Amos. Oh, Amos. That epilogue is fucking perfect. It takes place a thousand years later, and one of the far and distant human colonies finds its way back home to earth. And who does this emissary run into?

Do you remember earlier in the books when someone joked that no matter how ugly and brutal a fight would be, Amos would be the last man standing? It's a bit of a running joke early on, and lo! and behold! Who should be the last man standing in these books? Amos fucking Burton hisownself, that's who. And it is Amos. He might look different. He might have odd new twitches, but I firmly believe that is Amos.

The final line of the book is perfect. "Now we got that shit out of the way, follow me. We'll grab a few beers and get reacquainted." It's such an Amos thing to say, and it's actually a pretty optimistic way to end a series of books that focused so much on the negative aspects of humanity.

In short, I'm happy with how it ended. Satisfied. I hope the show can live up to it. I'll bet it can.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #437: THE EXPANSE AND THE DARK TOWER

 

There is a sensation that goes beyond melancholy and doom and the feeling of a world that has moved on. The perfect phrase comes from the final book of The Dark Tower: "O Discordia!" You've seen me use that one before, but I'm going to explore it a bit deeper now, especially how it relates to The Expanse book series.

There will be spoilers for that one ahead, so if you just started the first book or are planning to, or you're at book six, maybe skip this one.

I was reluctant to check out The Expanse TV show for one reason and one reason alone: everyone kept saying it was the Game of Thrones of space. I hate it when people describe something as "the Game of Thrones of (whatever)." It's never a good description, and nothing ever lives up to it. I usually skip everything people describe as that. But! In this case, a lot of people I respected said that it was one of the best SF TV shows ever. For the first three seasons, I agreed that it was the best SF TV series not called Stargate SG-1. By season four? I decided that they were right. It really is the best. And it is pretty much the Game of Thrones of space. There are just fewer people calling each other a cunt. (It probably helps that the authors are friends with GRRM.)

So I got into the books, and as with most shows and movies, the books are better. My favorite of them was Cibola Burn, which was season 4 of the show. It made me very happy. A space western that feels like it could actually happen. And there's no rescue from guys like Murtry and his RCE because what can you do? Report them to earth? How long will that take? The message first has to travel through the Ilus ring gate, then through the Sol ring gate, then through all the space between Uranus to earth. Then the UN has to figure out what to do about the situation before they send help. To Uranus and the Sol gate. To the Ilus gate. Yeah, we're talking months, maybe even a year. Maybe more. If you thought police arriving late for a 911 call was bad, you're not even close to the reality of the Ilus situation. So yeah, I fucking loved it.

And then came Tiamat's Wrath, which is hands down the best so far. I'm almost done with Leviathan Falls, so I can't say for sure, but Tiamat's Wrath is an absolute heartbreaker of a book, and it's the pinnacle of the feeling of O Discordia for me.

Just think. The first thing it greets us with is Avasarala's death and Laconia's hijacking of her funeral. Does her beloved earth get to host it? To even bury her body? Nope. Laconia fucks that all up, and it's hosted on Laconia, the heart of the tyrannical Laconian Empire.

James Holden, now a lot older than when we met him, has been Laconia's prisoner for years since the end of book seven. He's more or less treated like a dancing bear, like the Russians used to have bears in their court with their teeth and claws removed. Because why not hang out with a fucking bear? When I first read the back of the book, it mentions him as "Mephistophelian" which I truly didn't understand until his conversation with Elvi and Fayez. I didn't get it because I never thought Holden was capable of it. The morals he used to have before his captivity apparently changed. Not entirely, but still. Considering what he's been throughout the series, he's so moral he was reckless with it. Remember the Cant?

Meanwhile, Naomi Nagata has to survive without her beloved for years. Imagine the person you love the most in the world. Now imagine that this person was taken away from you for years. So many years that you figure that you'll never see that person again. She's given up on ever seeing Holden again, and she's grieving his loss.

Alex Kamal is bittersweet. He's now a father, and that makes him so happy that not even divorcing that kid's mom can make him feel bad. But he's just lost his best friend. Bobbie Draper died the way she probably would have preferred: a violent and victorious explosion. But she's still gone.

And then there's my favorite character, Amos Burton. When he was growing up as a criminal and child prostitute in the worst parts of Baltimore, back when he was still Timothy, I'll bet he never thought he'd wind up being a part of the biggest conflict humanity has ever faced. He certainly didn't expect to be undercover on Laconia for years, sitting on a pocket nuke, waiting for the chance to blow up the bad guys after trying to rescue Holden. He probably didn't expect to befriend the daughter of Laconia's god-emperor and her dog. And there's no way he would have expected his life to end at the hands of an authoritarian military on a planet so far from home that it hadn't even been known to the world he'd come from, and that he would be calling himself Timothy again would have blown his mind.

And even if he could have guessed any of those things, it's impossible to believe that he would have known what the "strange dogs" would do to him after his death.

It is a stark book. All you can feel is hopelessness. Despair. O Discordia!

And it's good to feel a lot of that in Leviathan Falls. I've reached a turning point where the feeling has shifted, but until that it still feels stark, especially when Tanaka faces off against Holden, Duarte's daughter and her dog and the thing that used to be Amos and might actually still be him. He has the same attitude as Amos. The same speech patterns. The same way of looking at life. But then there are his pitch black eyes, his off color skin and the way he sometimes pauses before saying something. But it's probably still him, right? Even after he's killed again by Tanaka, right?

I'm going to be sad when I read the last sentence of this one. There's going to be another novella after it, but when the main story is done? I'll miss it. It's been one of the greatest joys of the last few years for me.

And goddammit! How do Ty Franck and Daniel Abraham manage that feeling? If I could write what I call "O Discordia," I'd be a much happier writer. I feel so jealous right now. Do you know how rare that is for me?

(And yes. I took a break from the cannabis in favor of drink tonight. That's probably why this is so long, and it makes more sense than my high GF columns.)