Death is Eternal #392

Sunday. March 17, 2024. 2,588 words.

This Death is Eternal won’t be like the previous ones because changes are coming! But fear not, dear reader, because it won’t be a change for the worst. Or, at least, I hope you don’t think it’s a change for the worst. It’s a change that makes sense to me and that, hopefully, it’ll also make sense to you—even if you disagree with it.

Contents

1. Intricacies of Intoxication

2. Changes

3. Bye!

4. Life (from March 11 to 24, 2024)

5. Death is Eternal review #268: Superman For All Seasons by Jeph Loeb, Tim Sale, and others

6. The end

1. Intricacies of Intoxication

Amidst tendrils of smoke that gracefully escaped John’s lips, he raised a thematic inquiry to Mary, his companion in the ephemeral haze. In languid contemplation, she assented with a nuanced nod, the weight of their prolonged inhalation stifling her verbal articulation.

“You know those locked-room mysteries?” John mused, eschewing the proffered vape, sensing the fragility of his rhetorical trajectory. A taciturn Mary, tethered to the languor of their shared indulgence, remained a silent auditor.

“I don’t understand the appeal,” John expounded, his voice carrying an undertone of philosophical reflection. If smoking too much made Mary stop talking, the opposite happened with John. “I mean, I do understand the theory of it,” Dismissing the proffered vape, John, now intoxicated by his contemplation, braced himself for a revelation.

“An impossible crime is always attractive. Anything impossible is attractive. But I think crime has a unique attraction to us. We’re like moths flying to the flames. We feel it’s bad and shouldn’t go there, but we can’t help ourselves.”

In a feeble attempt to rouse herself from her trance, Mary executed a movement so subtle it appeared almost imperceptible. Yet, this minuscule gesture resonated with the grandiosity of an infant discovering newfound limbs in her mental universe.

“Anyway,” John continued, his words wafting through the air like the dissipating tendrils of vapour, “I don’t understand why we love locked-room mysteries so much. Books, movies, comics, you name it! Any media has its own stories with this trope,” he stopped and thought about what he just said for less than a second before asking, “is it a trope or cliché? I never remember...”

Mary shrugged, but only she was capable of seeing the movement. “Anyway... You can find a locked-room mystery anywhere you want to consume entertainment, but that’s just lousy. And I’ll tell you why it’s lousy: because there’s always a solution!” John would’ve screamed that last part if he weren’t so high.

In the intimate confines of their shared history, Mary, possessing an unparalleled familiarity with John’s intricacies, endeavoured to find a seat, an anchor for the impending discourse. A symphony of nuances underscored John’s impassioned monologue, his voice, though never reaching a crescendo, betraying an urgency that resonated with Mary’s acute perception. Within the cadence of his words, Mary discerned a rare vulnerability—the kind that envelops John when grappling with matters of profound significance.

Yet, Mary, ensconced in the nebulous embrace of intoxication, found herself tethered by inertia, a spectator to John’s emotionally charged soliloquy. In her altered state, the prospect of movement seemed a Herculean feat, reserved only for exigencies of the utmost gravity—life-altering endeavours like fleeing imminent danger or the basic biological imperative of reaching the bathroom. In this surreal interlude, the boundaries between the consequential and the trivial blurred, leaving Mary suspended in a haze where the urgency of John’s voice coalesced with the insouciance induced by their chosen intoxicant.

“The solution ruins everything. You see, you have the introduction. The creatives set the pieces, introduce the characters, why they’re there, the environment, the rules of the world, and everything else you need to know. Then, the crime happens. Everyone is in shock, even we, the consumers, who were consuming the thing expecting the bad thing to happen. Then, we go to the investigation, and we get to know the characters and the environment, as well as the motivations, the secrets, and everything else. And then comes the conclusion...”

With a subtle urgency that belied the gravity of the impending revelation, John extended his hand towards the vape, an unspoken invocation for the courage required to unfurl the culmination of his contentious yet meticulously contemplated discourse. Each inhalation, deliberate and measured, served as a precursor to the impending declaration, the wisps of vapour becoming ethereal tendrils tethering him to the weight of his words. In the rhythmic cadence of puffs, a silent crescendo built, heralding the culmination of a narrative poised at the intersection of controversy and introspection.

Mary was waiting for the last part of John’s essay. She was too invested; she needed to know!

The atmosphere, once serene, now hung oppressively in Mary’s modest abode, where strewn garments bore witness to the chaos brought forth by John’s smoke-laden pontifications—even the moonlit glow, erstwhile serene through the bathroom window, now cast ominous shadows.

Anticipation gripped Mary as she braced herself for the impending denouement. In that suspended moment, she relinquished the mundane burdens of her challenging day and succumbed to the intoxication of John’s discourse.

Yet, in a twist as unexpected as the denouement itself, John, the orator of his existential examination, fell silent. A disquiet settled in the room, shattering the ambient tranquillity with an abrupt cessation of words.

In the delicate reclamation of her inner fortitude, Mary garnered just enough resilience to immerse herself in the unfolding denouement, a resolute commitment to subsume the disheartening residue of her arduous day, wrought with the remnants of professional tribulations and the aftermath of severance. In the cocoon of intoxication shared with John on a nondescript Tuesday night, the oppressive weight of workplace grievances is momentarily eclipsed by their communal ascent’s allure. Poised in anticipation, Mary relinquished the visceral remnants of her travail, granting herself the transient reprieve of expectation, an ephemeral sanctuary amidst the ephemeral haze. With bated breath, she awaited the lyrical unravelling of John’s narrative, a momentary respite from the quotidian struggles that lingered, suspended, in the recesses of her consciousness.

But John remained quiet.

He remained quiet.

And quiet.

Drawing upon an inner strength unbeknownst to her, Mary, her curiosity unabated, ventured to prompt, “And...?”

“And...?” Asked John.

“What about the conclusion?”

“Which conclusion?”

John’s eyes locked with Mary’s in a moment of shared perplexity. A shared laughter ensued, each chuckle resonating louder until both were consumed by tearful mirth, leaving behind a question, “What were we talking about?”

The end

2. Changes

Photo by Brad Starkey on Unsplash

As I aforementioned, I’ll change things a bit from this point forward. It’s no secret that Death is Eternal’s lack of growth bothers me. Both the growth regarding new subscribers and those willing to upgrade their subscriptions. Although I don’t know how to solve this, I want to try something to see if I can solve at least one of them.

Recently, I wondered if I’m offering you enough after the paywall. Is “Life” and the “review” sufficient to convince you to upgrade the subscription? I thought the answer was yes, but since there’s no growth, I was wrong. So, thinking about that, I decided to have more content after the paywall. As such, moving forward, the “Writing” section will also be available only for the paying subscribers. So, if you like my essays on the craft, you’ll have to upgrade your subscription. Hopefully, that’ll generate some growth.

However, if I notice the number of readers plummeting, I’ll reverse my decision. After all, I’m trying to attract more subscribers, not push away the ones I already have and care so deeply about.

3. Bye!

Here’s where we say our farewell to the free subscribers. If you want to read the rest of Death is Eternal, consider becoming a paying subscriber. If you already are a paying subscriber, first of all, thank you very, very much! And second, I’ll see you on the other side of the paywall.