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Showing posts from April, 2011

Myebook - D'n'A Comics #1

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Myebook - D'n'A Comics #1 As promised: the online version of DNA #1!!!

Happily Ever After All

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DNA comics #2 is coming along fine! Layouts are in the works; chosen scenes have been discussed; it's a small movie, in a way. Let me tell you, we have heavy hearts for the city of Tuscaloosa, terribly damaged, almost beyond recognition. The very first Apartment of Ideas is most likely rubble. Probably all three places I ever lived are gone. Marc and I are taking it in, but focusing on doing something, and maybe you can help. We'll host an EBay auction to raise money for Red Cross very shortly. We're going to give 70% of the auction proceeds to Tuscaloosa's Red Cross. I think we're going to auction some drawings, too, still deciding what those would be. I know they'll be with me when I write, about Japan as previously planned, and something newly made, what, I don't yet know. There's some cool music, but it's not been recorded "The Right Way" just yet. We just keep re-working bits and pieces of songs we really thought migh

Danger Bot! With art by Robert Last!!

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Would you look at the take on my design, by the gifted Robert Last? I am re-thinking this idea a bit. I'm going to go back to the original notion for the story. I will keep my head up for any better uses for Danger Bot, though, as I like the idea, but at the core, there is a real story I can tell that will leave people more enlightened. But would reality be more boring? Sometimes, but here, not so much! I think it's pretty cool but I should use more fantastical, superhuman opponents or organized villains; that seems a little juvenile, but while I'd love to see Japan develop robots that can do the dangerous, disease-threatening work, it's still just a fantasy. Maybe I should back the two ideas apart to let them be themselves. Let's hear it for the real nuclear engineers! Lyron The hour in Nippon was dire indeed. The clock’s digital face tells Kumiko Sakura it’s 10:44 pm, which is fifteen minutes ahead of time. She awaits clearance to join with th

Going to Anaheim

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dON'T miss DNA #1! Our black and white comic book kicks off a new series and a new company! It's Southern Gothic horror in a completely fresh way. Send your check or money order to Cecil L. Disharoon 542 6th Ave. San Diego, CA 92101 $1.30 covers shipping and handling. The issue itself, DNA #1, retails for $3.25, but you can have it for $3, a total of $4.30. Meanwhile, our remaining t-shirts are available at Convention Special Price, for $12 each or 2 for $20, plus $5.00 for shipping & handling. You can do the same over PayPal, at luelyron@gmail.com !!! AND!! You can use the button provided; the $15 will cover your postage. D'n'A t-shirt #1 Small $15.00 Medium $15.00 Large $15.00 or D'n'A t-shirt Puzzle pieces (girl and boy) Small $15.00 Medium $15.00 Large $15.00 Integr8d Soul will be appearing at the Anaheim Comic Book and Science Fiction Convention, May 1st, get your tickets online or at the door, come out and meet Lue Lyron and the Marc

Danger Bot

The hour in Nippon was dire indeed. The clock’s digital face tells Kumiko Sakura it’s 10:44 pm, which is fifteen minutes ahead of time. She awaits clearance to join with the Hogosha, the metallic seventeen foot, joined from symbols in a form not unlike humanoid, for its bipedal symmetry. When the word comes, not a second can be wasted. Kumiko will stand here however long it takes, now. Nowhere else on Earth exists for her right now, save this unlit silo. The black telescope across the room catches a twinkle of moonlight through the opened dome. “We’ll be out there soon, Danger Bot.” she says quietly. Sakura’s name for the cybernetic armor had come from her hours of practice at this, her dream to make a difference. She’d hated the training when she was a teen, sometimes, and what if it was for nothing? The crisis that befell her homeland, however, had solidified her feelings about the hard work and secrecy. When the tsunami swallowed the coast in its mindless, hungering mouth

One Tiny Miracle (or, The Subhuman)

Jinzouningen Kikensei? (Danger Bot ?)

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Story begins here! Happy Earth Day! The hour in Nippon was dire indeed. The clock’s digital face tells Kumiko Sakura it’s 10:44 pm, which is fifteen minutes ahead of time. She awaits clearance to join with the Hogosha, the metallic seventeen foot, joined from symbols in a form not unlike humanoid, for its bipedal symmetry. When the word comes, not a second can be wasted. Kumiko will stand here however long it takes, now. Nowhere else on Earth exists for her right now, save this unlit silo. The black telescope across the room catches a twinkle of moonlight through the opened dome. Sakura’s name for the guardian Clearance debates, politics Meanwhile, the horror at Fukushima Hajime (Begin) Wheels, supplemented by antigravity tremendous battery; Sakura knows every circuit, chip and articulation. She surveys the horror of the tsunami devastated landscape. She swears to honor their spirits with bravery. At last, Jounzingen Kikensei---her personal name for the droid body arrives in

Harvester of Eyes: Take Me Away (Conclusion, 3 of 3))

“How many times have we talked about this?” Waymon pleads. “No, how many times have you listened quietly? What don’t you want to tell me?” Waymon now reveals to Kaylisha why she'd been spared during the Harvester's first manifestation. “I did not want you to have to deal with it. I’ll tell you, but I can’t take it back.” He pauses for a moment. “You, too, were possessed by the Harvester of Eyes that first night. I thought the spell I used would banish the creature. Remember the image of great fire, before the warehouse went up like a tinderbox? Only you, Kaylisha, remained, and for almost three months we did not see anything.” “Why didn’t your spell put it away forever?” “You know I’ve tried again. I’m not sure what else to do. I won’t stop trying.” Waymon had been racking his brain for a new banishment spell ever since they realized the Harvester was running wild, only three days before. They had not slept since! The plane begins approach once more. For the lon

Wings Wetted Down: 2nd Approach (Harvester of Eyes)

“Waymon,” she says, from the next seat, “you’re awake now.” “Thought I felt us approaching to land,” he says. “Almost were. I wouldn’t wake you before necessary.” “Sorry you weren’t still asleep yourself. How is Buddy?” “Still sedated.” They didn’t need to repeat the facts; they had learned they should not. She thinks back to something she heard on the news five days before...six? The eyes taken in the mass graves by the Mexican border told her he was back. Then, Ladell, the last person they’d stayed with, renting his converted garage. They had come back to Buddy’s farm the next day, but there was no sign of Buddy until they checked the barn, and there, beyond a trail of blood droplets, in the hay he lay, unconscious. His eyes were pulled from his head, scattered aside with contempt nearby on the ground. They had moved as fast as possible to get him to a hospital, keeping his eyes on ice in Tupperware found in the kitchen. His brief awakening had been one of the most awful inst

Harvester of Eyes: to the back of your skull

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Sponsored by Integr8d Soul Productions, featuring DNA: The Mountain, drawn with crisp, clear story telling by Lue Lyron and the Marc Kane, with scenes and ideas you won't find anywhere else in entertainment!! The comic for those who don't read comics! Black and White, $3 plus shipping each. Available from C Lue Disharoon 542 6th Ave. San Diego, CA 92101 to the backs of their skulls: The First Approach The nights, of an open closet door, inspiring paranoid terror, or a shadow by the moonlight causing a heartbeat's skip. Her concept of just what was, after all, out to get them (wasn't it?) was too vivid for Kaylisha to sleep regularly, two months after she'd seen the Harvester of Eyes, and, in the house of the man now lying wounded on a stretcher at the back of the medivac airplane, she had cried out, times a few, as she imagined her pursuer still lived, following her for no other reason save he had been called for the sake of her life, and she had born his s

Watching the skies of Joe Bouchard

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I feel lucky I found a band with such concentrated songwriting power; to me, Blue Oyster Cult is like a prototype of a band I'd like to be in, in that aspect. My own is called "Integr8d Soul" and all my projects have moments that remind me of specific people. Lately, I even have an exciting new collaborator...but you'll find out about Princess Jenn soon enough... Anyway, just as I thought I might have to name a child of ours "Dharma" I inspected the BOC songbook, where I'd sought out Patti Smith's work. Note how the willingness to share songcraft with other talented people blossoms; you can hear the fruits of collaboration in what these people did. It's a very selfless approach. In that spirit, let's just say the bassist (and Ithaca College alumnus) Joe Bouchard had a hand in some good Blue Oyster Cult songs. I found a list to start: http://youtu.be/7xXEtO3bEe0 You aren't a BOC fan until you've listened to "Astronomy.&quo

Harvester of Eyes: the tale of terror

First pass over airport Kaylisha recalls meeting the man sleepin in the seat beside her: Randall Waymon Jarrell, a poetry student and keeper of company over his head. Her confidence in him led her to believe him; there was a way to ditch the mobsters and forget them. He took a terrible beating and was even shot trying to keep them from taking her away, when they wanted her father’s secret information. He played the card held closest to the vest, and it ended her terror at the hands of the hired goons. Waymon thought, “well, I’ve apparently saved the day.” But he set loose the Harvester of Eyes. She recalls: *What happened. *They fled. Man with them here in this medical plane, Buddy, was a racist who fondly recalled Waymon from boyhood and gave them shelter deep in the woods. Their stay with him ended when they got on their feet. After a couple of months, they started to feel free of the Harvester. Then came the call about Ladell Morse three days before. The same thing that happene

Best Blue Oyster Cult Songs

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Don't Fear the Reaper, and today May 2nd I found this great 1981 footage from the Hollywood Bowl, based on the number 12 Billboard chart Top 40 hit he wrote for the band on his four track demo, the band's biggest hit. Flaming Telepaths (Lue) : My personal favorite groove off the greatest BOC album, Secret Treaties, released thirty-seven years ago this month. That's two of my favorite songs, no doubt, by anybody. A list with David Bowie, Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Neil Young, the Indigo Girls, Foo Fighters, and Prince, with something each year grabbing me and photographing the times around me, some couple or few hits minor or major to which I can't stop listening. (I've also been into the Clash, Pearl Jam, the Who, Bob Marley, Velvet Underground, Marvin Gaye, Curtis Mayfield, Matthew Sweet, the Eagles, the Beach Boys, Tom Petty, U2, Zep, Public Enemy, Snoop Dogg, Rush, Elvis Costello, Booker T. & the MG's, Charlie Parker, a bunch of half-remembered country my

Mind-a-Rama with Steve Gerber: Defenders #35

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Busy saving the world from itself, Nebulon leaves before the rather hot-revved Ruby can get her flirt on. Soon Chondu awakens in his horrible new body, but Ruby points out they can implant the imprint of his mind with her perfect machine heads. When Chondu snatches a construction worker, he only wants him for his body. Well, that wasn't a first in mid-70's NYC. Jack offers an arm to cushion weary Valkyrie's head from the wall, and she goes for it. Too bad Chondu has to show up and put up a real fight! Aragorn often gets the worst of these things; the winged steed's stranded on the rooftop, injured, as Chondu's new form proves exhilirating for standing up to Val. They smash into a sky top restaurant, an intense combat that ends with scalded, bruised and slashed Valkyrie walking away from freshly crushed Chondu. The police are having NONE of that.

Why I know I live in a free country, and what Sheer-Zan is to me

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Unlike the world of Sheer-Zan: One, I did not live in a world of fear for secret police. I mean, I could imagine the paranoia from life in Georgia, but it seems like something I would not get right. See, the thing that makes it work is that the protagonist, from the first, is aware she is in over her head, just beginning to learn anything at all about her enemy---and her self, it seems. But up to this point, she is very accomplished. It is the nature of the challenge ahead that her every weakness will come exposed. Like Batman, she can do anything if she has time to prepare. But she is not like any Batman at all, save maybe for the one who nearly bungled to his doom in the early parts of Miller/ Mazzuchelli's Batman: Year One. The years have allowed me distance, but there are scenes so talked about in comic book circles that recollections have come anyway. Still, I won't re-read those, don't have them on hand, and further, wish to learn nothing more from them, but rath

De la Cruise: Howard and Bev's permanent vacation

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You know what? Howard and Bev and Winda and Paul come out just fine, after all. I'm glad. They are easy to care about. So the grateful caliph, after a scenario you will believe when donkeys fly you should see for yourself courtesy Val Mayerick in Howard's Annual, the one and only one from 1977. You are welcome to buy mine for a dollar, plus shipping/ handling. Where was I? Grateful caliph---right! Cruise across the Mediterranean. Nice! Howard promises to ease up on heavy thinking. Remember that ritzy vacation Bev daydreamed in #5, back where this blog's collection began? Well, she got it. Good for her. Should be nice for all four of these kids to enjoy a nice vacation. They will be headed back to a crowded apartment again, soon enough...or will they? Oh boy. The sea serpent is huge in comparison to the cruiseliner. Bev wonders if it can be charmed. "I used to play a recorder!" I love that. Howard finds the pleasure button. That is, after already bein

Talkin' Headmen Blues

Talkin’ Headsmen Blues (another song for the Roshomonics Cycle) Beware that ol’ black rain Injection cloud into the brain Feel them thoughts of self-destruction While we steal without obstruction Try to stop me, I’ll open your head Replace you with Chondu’s brain instead And learn your friends inside and out While you search for clues, Under my machine You got the Headmen Blues My surgery can be precise With gorilla hands I make my slice Now come hear the plans I’ve got the head of a man Beside melted Jerry whose skull bones were shrank Now meet Ruby Thursday, a computer bank Was made indestructible head for her body Her perfected sphere she will give every body Stolen body say, what’s the reason for you? To help rule the world with these Headmen Blues? With a few adjustments to their minds Any mass movement they’ll just despise While we get all the cash, commodities They won’t address over population ill at ease Shrink them in our boxes, we’ll fit the world to our needs

Sheer-Zan One: rough draft

After two weeks of thinking about it, it was clear she couldn't go on.

1002nd Arabian Night: Steve Gerber's Howard the Duck

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Well, we're halfway into our story, so safe to say Paul Sames and Howard the Duck pull off their parachute leap. Now, it's time for them to encounter a mugger. For this they left New York?

Blue Oyster Cult, part three the Early. the 80s, and the return

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In 1967, the band that would someday become Blue Oyster Cult debuted in Long Island as Thin White Underbelly. This is their only known surviving recording. In their next guise, the band was called Stalker Forrest Group. Their recordings on Elektra Records were not released, however, until later on the album St. Cecilia. At the other end of their career, we have the album Imaginos in 1987, one of their last albums of original material. The album is an attempt to at last record an album based on the poetry arc that inspired their name and identity as Blue Oyster Cult, written by longtime manager and producer Sandy Pearlman Now, a cut from Blue Oyster Cult's debut album in 1972. It later appears re-made as the song, "the Red and the Black" off Tyranny and Mutation. Chris Middleman writes: The task of lyrical reinvention fell on Meltzer and especially, Pearlman. Rock music entered the artistic consciousness over a decade earlier and now had a burgeoning community of ae

Matt's Not Coming Back (by Black Widow)

Here's a nice set of lyrics inspired by Steve Gerber's early Daredevil stories, part of the cycle I call "Roshomonics." I think of them from Natasha's point of view. Matt’s Not Coming Back Matt’s Not Coming Back To San Fransisco where it’s just the man And dreams are pulling stakes Homeless, now my heart aches. I didn’t know he could live without me. 1/ Moondragon, she could read his mind No longer blind So of the chances I have taken by his side It seems a mansion is no home Where there’s nobody home Are we all alone? Sold out, he’s the hold out man The show won’t sell to feed the band And all beside the Bay as planned Fell down once they took their stand And here am I on another sand Love, adventure life was grand But there’s no final act Matt’s not coming back. Matt’s Not Coming Back Matt’s Not Coming Back To San fransisco where it’s just the man And dreams are pulling stakes Homeless, now my heart aches. I didn’t know he could live without me. 2. Hear my hear

Bagmom

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Two years ago, I began composing a pastiche using the most difficult part of my novel TRANZ using other, existing characters blended with my own. I started working on entirely original fiction again afterwards, but continued a cycle of five long stories with full script, finished in January. Those are in my archives (except for X-Men; that one's over on Ceaseill.blogspot.com. Now I've been juggling the beginnings of a company, Integr8dsoul.com (Think Integrated) while continuing to write. I even took the time to draw (with the Marc Kane) and finish a comic book. So in a funny way, this began as an apology to myself, for not having the Sheer-Zan: One yet in rough draft form. A day, maybe two, behind. But I'm learning. Squeezing by in a crowded apartment, Howard the Duck's trying to snap out of a negative mood with coffee. So the others went shopping while he was asleep? Not a real problem...not like slipping on trash with hot coffee. Howard acrobatically keeps h