Slurpee Cup Cyclops.

Byrne and Claremont made him classic. Morrison and Quitely made him cool. The X-Men’s middle manager has had one hell of an arc.

This pose is straight off those 7-Eleven Slurpee cups from the late ’70s or early ’80s. Definitely pre–my “bike to the store for Funyuns and root beer with the homies” era. Plus I grew up in Canton, Massachusetts  (murder-y home of the Karen Read saga) and we were a Cumberland Farms town anyway.

For a long time everybody thought Scott Summers was a dweeb. Because, honestly, he was. Then Grant Morrison showed up and made him cool. Like Steve McQueen cool but also haunted, like Ben Affleck holding a Dunkin iced coffee. Then somebody else came along and made him fascist, with a giant X on his face. Then I’m pretty sure he turned into the Phoenix. And killed Professor X. Comics are wild.

The only actually cool Cyclops was Morrison’s Cyclops. Still, I’ve got a soft spot for Byrne-era Scott. Being the middle manager of the X-Men has gotta suck even if you’ve got perfect hair and your girlfriend is Jean Grey.

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I’m back in Boston. I grew up in the suburbs here but left as soon as I was 18. Mostly living in after a few years away. My son’s at Berklee School of Music and I’m here to pick him up. He’s a burgeoning sax man, already chasing melodies I can’t keep up with. The campus is just a few blocks from where I waited tables for a year — a blurry stretch I mostly spent drinking and working. Most of the old dives are boba shops now, except for ole Bukoski, that bright red little corner bar in a grey part of town. They’ve added a neon-blue “DEAD WRITERS CLUB” sign. I’m ready to get home, shake off the travel, wrap up shipping BINARY and find my rhythm again with TWIN STAR.

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