Film adaptations of comic books have an amazing and troubled history. Amazing when they work â€” like the first â€œBatmanâ€ by Tim Burton or â€œX-Menâ€ by Bryan Singer â€” and â€œtroubled, painful, awful, crummy and disappointingâ€ when they donâ€™t. See â€œThe Punisher,â€ â€œDaredevil,â€ â€œHoward the Duckâ€.
Sometimes listening to Icelandic experimental outfit Sigur Ros is a little like watching a glacier melt. Itâ€™s laborious, but in an altogether pleasing way, and itâ€™s rewarding in the end when a big piece finally breaks off and floats away to disappear.
The Barn Cats BY JOE PEACOCK
Frozen Peas BY KIMBERLY A. POWERS At seven Gary places the key in the backdoor lock and turns it. The jamb sticks; he kicks the door at the base. He’s home late again, but no one stirs at the backdoor’s shudder. Gary kicks the door shut behind him. From the kitchen, he can see the living room, the back of Jeanie’s head. She watches “Wheel of Fortune” from the couch and Tommy sits on the arms of the recliner.
Literary LEO, more than anything this newspaper does throughout the year, is by and for the community. This year we received hundreds of submissions, and as you can see by the judgesâ€™ comments on the following page, the work was strong, which made picking the best quite a challenge. These next several pages contain the three best short stories (the honorable mention short stories are posted at www.leoweekly.com); several flash fiction pieces (300-word limit); several poems (serious and seriously bad â€” so bad theyâ€™re funny); and numerous photographs (both traditional and non-traditional).
Writing for comics over the past 40 years, Denny O’Neil has redefined the genre’s possibilities. Jason Noble, an avowed local comic book geek, interviews his hero.A brief introduction to four decades of creativity and innovation can be tricky. Simply said, Denny O’Neil is one of the most influential writers in the history of comic books.
When poker goes beyond delusions of grandeur: Michael Murphyâ€™s and Louisville Poker Tour make two of a kind
If I had told you five years ago that a game of cards would be getting better television ratings than a baseball game, you would have thrown me in a loony bin and tossed the key. And yet, the â€œsportâ€ of Texas Hold â€™Em poker is now a bona fide hit, drawing as much as a 1.9 rating during first-run telecasts on ESPN.
Forming BY KYLE MINOR I don’t know what it is about the music. The energy, the attitude, the feeling that someone else is angry and upset about life. That I’m not the only person who is disillusioned and more than a little confused. Ever since I really discovered it — not just listened to it as background — it’s all I listen to it. Katie’s into punk rock. The day I found out, I felt like someone else was in on my little secret. I remember thinking that this must be what it’s like for those jocks in gym class, who come back at the first of every school year amazed at how Becca Armstrong had grown breasts or how hot Amanda Rogers was now that she was bleaching her hair. Katie told me the first record she ever bought was the original Minor Threat, with Ian sitting on the steps with his head down and bald head staring straight at you. She started on a high note. The first time I ever listened to punk I was eight years old. I was with my cousin, Mike. I think he just made me listen to it because he wasn’t supposed to. Won’t even remember who it was; I was still too young to hear anything but a bunch of noise. I never really started liking punk until about a year ago. I heard a Minutemen tape, Double Nickels on the Dime, and was blown away. They have a song on it called “Martin’s Story,” which I always misheard as “Marcus’ Story.” It also happens to be my name. I know the actual title now, but I still like to listen to it my way. The music goes by so fast that it isn’t all that hard to pretend. After hearing the Minutemen, it was over. I was buying everything — old stuff, new releases, magazine articles, basically sorting out what was and wasn’t my style. I absorbed it all. I had never really felt like I belonged to anything before. My mom likes to say that it’s because I have a good sense of myself, that I won’t transform like some chameleon. But that’s bullshit. It’s more like I’m poor, shy, and overweight. I’m not fat by any means — a little less than husky — but it’s the combination that kills me. Katie is about as popular as I am. It’s not that people hate us (I’m sure if one of us died in a car accident we’d warrant an announcement on the intercom and a moment of silence), it’s more like they just don’t care. Which sometimes is good for anonymity. For example, Katie showed up on the first day of high school and only got a few snide remarks. Most of them clever ones along the lines of, “Uh-oh, the weird girl just got weirder.” I doubt I would have ever really met Katie if it wasn’t for her hair. Once I saw it, I decided I had to. It was beautiful. Her hair wasn’t that food coloring dull green that most people you see have, it was loud. She always had it down or in pigtails. I liked pigtails because they showed off her cheekbones and the little birthmark next to her left temple. She ended up being in three of my classes — Bio, Spanish, and Creative Foods. We started talking shortly thereafter.
Bag Factory by sue carls The seams were seemingly endless. Mae turned the bag, her foot pressing down on the pedal, the sewing machine running fast. The rough, cotton fabric used to make the bags caught on the chapped skin of her hands. The high pitched scream of sewing machines surrounded her, woven into her consciousness so she was unaware of the noise. It was the same with the heat and dust.
Sometimes it seems as if they fall from the sky, in every imaginable shape and size and color and genre. Science fiction, crime thrillers, country cookbooks, fantasy epics, romance, how-to and many a memoir of dubious provenance.