Decision time

(L-to-R) Top row: Yes*, no, maybe, won't last 6 months so who cares, yes, yes, no.
Second row: No, yes, grudgingly yes, might be good, About Fucking Time, probably not, no, pointless without Oracle, yes.
Third row: No, yes, no, cautiously yes, don't be stupid, no, maybe, maybe, maybe.
Fourth row: Probably not, Who??, who are they trying to kid?, no, no, I'll give it 2 more issues, maybe, yes, no.
Fifth row: No, no, yes, yes, no, maybe, yes, no, no.
Bottom row: Probably not, yes, yes, no, God no, yes but only for Martian Manhunter, maybe, no, I'd love to want to say yes, but... No.

*Only as long as Morrison's writing it.

UPDATE Summer 2012: Current pull list is Action Comics (enjoyable if irksome), Animal Man (an honest-to-goodness horror book that's really impressed me), Aquaman (amazingly well-handled, streamlined take on the character and his history, which kicks lots of ass and looks gorgeous, month in, month out), Batgirl (like everyone, I miss Oracle, but at least Gail Simone is still writing Babs), Batman/ Batman and Robin/ Detective Comics/ Batman Inc. (all have been consistently gripping and very enjoyable. Bat-history barely seems effected at all, although Stephanie and Cassandra inexplicably get the shitty end of the stick once again), Batwing (really entertaining and compelling book that so easily could have been a bland Bat-wannabe. Rumours are that it's headed for cancellation, which I fervently hope are untrue), Batwoman (same creative team as before the reboot, so it's every bit as good), The Flash (good, but not rocking anybodies' world just now. Badly need to up their game with this one), Green Lantern (basically Sinestro's book these days, but another title that's benefitted greatly from the hands-off approach. Great stuff), Justice League International (on its final issue *sniff*. Booster is supposedly getting his own solo book again soon), Nightwing (great to have it back, but could do better), Red Lanterns (lots of people dislike it for some reason. I find the exploits of Attrocitus and co. fun and satisfying), Supergirl (well written, but Kara was reintroduced to mainstream DC so recently, it can't help but jar. And I hate that costume), Superman (rapidly losing patience with it, too), Wonder Woman (Brian Azzarello can write Wonder Woman!- who knew? Story arc is dragging a bit though) and the new Smallville: Season 11 series.

Dropped like a stone were: DC Universe Presents (Deadman arc was enjoyable enough, nothing since has interested me in the slightest), Green Lantern New Guardians (not enough to hold my interest, and I didn't appreciate the retelling of Kyle's origin), Justice League (I so wanted to love this, but it's awkward, shallow and Jim Lee's art bugs me almost as much as seeing Martian Manhunter's place usurped by Token- sorry, Cyborg. The horrible Shazam back-up strip was the last straw for me), Justice League Dark (cool concept, but the first issue was dull and I hate the New 52 version of Zatanna), Mister Terrific (a character I love, so a big disappointment. Predictably cancelled), Red Hood and the Outlaws (that first issue... Christ, I haven't felt so sullied by a comic since All-Star Batman and Robin. I felt like writing to Starfire to apologise. Ghastly), Stormwatch (read it for Martian Manhunter, who was hardly in it and poorly handled, and indeed is soon to be written out. God knows who thought giving this to Paul Cornell was a good idea) and Teen Titans (rebooted versions of all the characters I cared about, in hideous new costumes. Just shit). Also Earth 2 (after 1 issue) and World's Finest (after 3), as reading James Robinson's horrible, Ultimates take on the Justice Society does nothing for my blood pressure, and Paul Levitz's writing sends me to sleep.

What's your sex?

Some months ago I wrote a bit about my sexual outlook and my ambivalence towards pornography. Looking back, I feel a little bit of a hypocrite: for one thing, I'm still a regular and unapologetic porn consumer, even if 9 out of every 10 clips I view (I won't lie to you or myself by calling them 'movies') are erotically bankrupt dreck. I said before I don't actually hate porn, but I should have specified that actually I love it- one the rare occasion it's any good.

Anyway... Jadis, endless source of inspiration that she is, recently posted a blog on the various concepts of sexual identity, and invited her friends to contribute their thoughts. My 'comment' turned out to be more of a mini essay, which I reproduce here. This is the first time I've written about my own sexual identity in such detail.
* * *

One bisexual male's P.O.V: As a teenager, I found the same private, hormone-fired fascination with other males as did a lot of lads my age (although I never knew this then). It was puberty, plain and simple; wanting to know just how far the storm of new sensory experiences could take me. I wondered about sex with other males, sure- I wondered about sex! I certainly wasn’t having any. It was, truly, a whole new level of perception: I knew very little about it, I couldn’t really imagine how it’d feel, but it had become the most important thing in the universe. I quickly got used to adults telling me it was all just a phase, that I’d calm right down as I got older. That seemed a bizarre suggestion then, it seems bloody ridiculous to me now.

Yes, my interest in other boys was fleeting. Girls were softer, easier on the eyes and a thousand times more complex. In fact, it was my first introduction to women, and I’ve been hopelessly in love ever since.
Flashforward to my late teens and I’m thinking about other males again. I’m still a virgin, still painfully gauche, but I’m familiar enough with at least the mechanics of sex to realise it’s not so narrow and limited as to be closed of to those of us without girlfriends.
Since that time, I’ve been with men and I’ve been with women. I’ve sat and looked at myself and thought how my feelings make no sense. I’ve thought, when enjoying the company of a man, that I could live the rest of my life without women and be perfectly happy. At other times, I’ve been with a woman and seriously wondered what on earth ever drew me to other men in the first place. The problem was, I kept expecting my inner self to figure out what shaped peg it was and drop into the appropriate hole (so to speak).

We live in a world that demands we categorise and label ourselves on every level: we like what we can recognise and identify. We often feel at our safest knowing we are one of many. It’s an instinctive anxiety, but it doesn’t make much sense. Life itself thrives on diversity, and those that don’t devise new levels of being, be they individuals or species, are doomed to stagnate and die.

Are you straight or gay? If you’re bisexual, which gender do you like better? I was forever asking these questions of myself. But honestly, sexual and romantic passion for the opposite gender and the same passion for your own are entirely different. What I desire and enjoy in men is nothing like what I desire and enjoy with women- it seems so obvious now!

It’s been suggested that bisexuals are simply sexual omnivores, addicts who’ll say yes to everything, with bisexual men in particular having just watched too much porn. Some say that porn conditions straight men to associate the naked male bodies they see with the pleasure they derive from watching women, and thus they start to think of themselves of bi. I have a little sympathy for these theories, certainly there will always be some men with the ‘any hole’s a goal’ attitude, and God knows any man who turns to fellow males seeking simply a substitute woman is doomed to end up more frustrated and depressed than ever. In the end, regardless of stated orientation, if you can’t love men for being male, or women for being female, you’re barking up the wrong tree.

The very definition of sexuality is the most nebulous, most hard to quantify in the whole sphere of human experience. There are those who see it purely as a question of which gender you prefer, while others see ‘sexuality’ as beginning and ending simply with whatever gets you off- fantasies, fetishes, etc. Neither definition is adequate. Sex is a vast, fluid continuum of perception, experience, intensity. The variables are infinite. One’s sexuality is as complex and individual as one’s fingerprints.

I call myself bisexual for the sake of conversational clairty, but the older I get, the more I think of these labels as essentially meaningless.

I am a sexual being. I am me.


One final thing: Cardiff's LGBT Mardi Gras is this weekend. I'll be going along this year, for the first time ever. Hope it's nice!