Live Blog: The Walking Dead: 02-12-2012

Stop back here tonight. I will be blogging live during the premiere of tonight's Walking Dead. Please post comments, questions, and repost as much as you want. Otherwise, see you back here soon!

I will start this off with: Who is your favorite character, and why?

And, were you shocked with who came out of the barn, and what happened right after? Or did you see it coming?

You can also read my zombie short story, Vaccination, while you wait for tonight's mid-season premiere!

Walking Dead 1st premiered on October 31, 2010 and voted the “Best Television Series Drama at the 68th Golden Globe Awards.”

Cast of Main Characters:

Sheriff Rick Grimes (Andrew Lincoln)

Lori Grimes (Sarah Wayne Callies)

Carl Grimes – son of Rick and Lori (Chandler Riggs)

Shane Walsh (Jon Bernthal)

Andrea (Laurie Holden)

Dale (Jeffrey DeMunn)

Glenn (Steven Yeun)

Daryl Dixon (Norman Reedus)

Carol (Sophia's mother)

Sophia (Carol's daughter)

Hershel Greene (Scott Wilson)

Maggie Greene (Lauren Cohan)

OK... Here we go ...

Season Finale -- Shane tries to take matters into his own hands. But it is Rick Grimes who steps up and handles the situation.

And the new mid-season opens where the old one ended ...

Friends and family members slaughtered as the exit the barn. Andrea drives a sickle through the head of a young girl's mother ...

Shane is pissed off that the farmers, the Greene's, new Sophia was in the barn...His temper gets them thrown off the land, despite Lori being pregnant.

Then Shane turns his anger on Rick--blaming Rick for putting everyone in danger to search for a little girl "that everyone of" them knew "was dead!"

I think, too it is time for them to move on from the farm. It served its purpose for the opening episodes in late 2011. With Carl getting shot. Letting Glen meet a woman to fall in love with. The barn was clearly the climax. And worked. Everything built to the barn. And to finding Sophia.

It's time to get back on the road. Time to start a new trek towards a new unknown destination. There is almost too much safety at the Greene farm. Too much normalcy. Bury the dead and get rolling!

The tension is thick. Building tight and hard between Shane and Dale. Shane's character is in terrible inner turmoil. Does it all stem from his relationship with Rick's wife? His inability to let go? To move forward? Is it justified? Maybe in the non-apocalyptical world, no. But based on all that has happened? I say yes. Shane's character is as borderline insane as the rest, with just enough additional doses of his own nightmare to tip him over the edge.

Burn the bodies of the dead. Bury the ones you know. Burn the rest. That's what Andrea said. And that's what they plan to do. Andrea has changed. A lot. Retrieving a severed arm and throwing it into the back of the pick up before jumping in after to sit among the piled corpses? Oh yeah. She is far from the same suicidal "victim" she'd been in Season 1.

And where in the world did Hershel go? Why would he pack his bags and leave? For booze?

Maggie's not going to let Glen go. Worried about his "team" bossing him around, does she see that her saying, "No", is as de-masculating?

So who is Shane trying to hook up with. Andrea still? Or Carol?

I like Dale. But he gets under my skin. Too righteous. Although--he might be right. Shane is out of control. We did all see what happened at the end of 2011. Shane and Otis were on a run. Going for medical supplies. Carl's life hung in the balance. When surrounded by zombies, with no way out, Shane did sacrifice Otis. Left him as bait so that he could escape. And escape he did. It was a pivotal point for Shane's character.

So Glen is "allowed" to go with Rick. Good for him. And, this may be thie first time Glen and Rick have had some time alone. Poor Glen-- he'd only ever told his mother that he loved her. He left Maggie hanging. She confessed her love, and he chickened out.

Overall, I like Glen. He played a great roll in 2011.

Showing more of the Greene family in this episode. With the exception of Otis, who Shane killed, Maggie and Hershel, I really don't know much about them. Beth? Bess? She's in shock over seeing her mother skull-stabbed.

And Daryl is "done looking for people". Is he? Is he really? Or is he, too unraveling. Why wouldn't he be? His brother was possibly killed in Season 1. He feels shuned by the others becuase he's clearly a redneck. He wants to love, but holds back.

Hershel's drinking. And Beth--yes, it was Beth, not Bess--needs him. Holding out for hope, Hershel realizes hope is a sham. "A bait and switch."

...And here we go -- 39 minutes in -- and some action. Lori is driving. Where? No idea. Maybe into town to find Rick and Glen. Is she distraught over Dale's news that Shane is crazy? When a zombie steps out into the street while (cliche) Lori consults a map. (It's a one-horse town. Not sure why a map is needed). She strikes the zombie -- or maybe he wasn't one, and rolls the vehicle. (Will she be okay? Will the baby growing inside her? Grrrr ... commercial ... great!)

...And back to the bar. Back to obvious talk, about the obvious lack of hope. Sophia stepping out of the bar with her sluggish, jerking walk, milky white dead eyes and growling was all the prove Rick, Hershel and perhaps everyone else needed to prove ... Hope is dead.

Who is this? Two more men looking for Last Call? (Were the men who entered the bar, disrupting a hopeless conversation betwen Hershel and Rick from early episodes -- like from Season 1? I couldn't see them close enough. I don't think so. I think--I hope, a new "clan" is being added to the mix.  But I still want to see what happened to the group huddled behind closed doors -- the armed men, protecting a community of elderly and sick. Remember them? Remember Rick gave them half the guns he'd come across? What happened to them?

What about Lorie. Remember at 39 minutes in she crashed? Rolled her car?

Only ten minutes left! What will the cliff hanger be?

I don't trust Dave. Dave from Philly. Dave and Tony. The new guy that walked into the bar. Not at all. 

Stole a gun off a dead cop.

Dave talks about everyone's rumors towards salvation. Coast Guard, Nebraska.

Fort Benning. Rick's plan. Rick's rumor.

Dave shoots it down. Lame-Brains runing the show. Go from pipedream to pipedream.

Ah, but Dave asks too many questions.

And yes. Tony is urinating in the corner of the bar.

It's coming. I feel it. Gun fight.  A saloon brawl!

Dave seems sensative. Ready to pop. Living out of cars. Trying to connect. Trying to level experiences.

Rick ain't buying it.

Friends having a drink? That's what Dave wants everyone to believe.

Even innocent Glen--youg Glen who's in love but won't admit it--is apprehensive.

Not appreciating Rick's advice to keep looking, Dave goes for his gun.

But there is no out-drawing the New Sheriff in town. Officer Rick Grimes.

He draws and fires and blows Dave away. And puts two holes into the swollen gut of Tony.

...Meanwhile, back at the farm (always wanted to write that) ...

Bodies of the infected burn ...

... But what about Lori? Not a thing. Not a frame of an update!!! I guess that is the cliff hanger. Have to wait until next Sunday to check in, and check up on Lori's condition.

Hope you'll join me then!

(Please, leave comments, questions, feedback, whatever!)

--Phillip Tomasso
Author of (now for Kindle) Pigeon Drop, Adverse Impact, Johnny Blade, Third Ring, Vaccination

A Ghost Named Jenny

A GHOST NAMED JENNY

I remember after spending a year at SUNY Brockport, that I'd taken an English essay writing class at Monroe Community College. The professor gave an assignment: Write about something that affected your life in some way.

Not very specific. Actually, quite the opposite. It was a very general assignment.

I thrived in English and writing classes. While students asked for bare minimum guidelines, I asked if there was a page maximum. I knew what I'd write about, didn't have to think about it, and didn't want to be held back by word count or page limits.

Although we had a week to complete the assignment, I completed mine that night.

I wrote about Jenny.

I got the paper back the following week with a “D”. Under the grade it said: "Too much like King/Poe. This was not a fiction assignment."

Jenny affected my life forever. So, you tell me, whether I imagined the below tale or not, regardless of what you think, I believe it happened ... therefore, it affected me. Forever.

When my parents bought their second home in Gates (Rochester, NY), I was nearly two-years old. It is where they still live today. Three bedrooms upstairs, a living room and kitchen on the first level, and below, a family room, and under that a full basement.

If you stood in the living room and looked up the stairs, you'd see my sister's bedroom door, on the wall hung a painting. A young girl, in a white dress stood in a field of yellow flowers.

I always disliked the painting. We all know that when you walk by one, the eyes of the person depicted are said to follow you. The girl in this particular painting was no different. Her eyes followed me. Really followed me. I swore I’d seen them move on more than one occasion.

When I was fourteen years old I could stand it no longer. I took the painting down and put it out into the garage. I used a grilling fork--the ones with two long, sharp tines—and forked the eyes out of the canvas, and dropped the framed and ruined artwork into the Dumpster.

Two days later, when I went into the garage, I stopped short. Against the far wall leaned the painting. Eyeless, but somehow still staring at me.

I snatched up a hatchet and hacked the thing to pieces. I gathered the destruction in my arms and once again dropped it all into the Dumpster. My parents had claimed, and still claim, they took the painting out of the garbage that first time. Said they wanted to hang it back up.

But without eyes?

I don't think so.

This was when it all started. My nightmare.

Had my actions caused a stir in the spirit world? Perhaps.

In no particular order, I want to inform you that since that day I never slept in my bedroom again. I spent the next four years sleeping on the sofa in the living room until I moved away to college. And when I returned from school, I still slept on the sofa.

Why?

That first evening I fell asleep on my bed. I was on my back. My hands on my chest. I woke up. My right hand was numb. Under it, I felt another hand, a third hand. I lifted both my arms in the air. The other hand was still on my chest. I could not see it, but felt it. Cold. And now my chest, too, was numb.

I screamed. I called for my mom, and for my dad.

When my bedroom door banged open, the hand flew off my chest, and a cool wisp of wind blew by my face.

I fell out of bed and scrambled for my father, who told me I'd just had a nightmare.

I was prone to nightmares. Walking and talking in my sleep. My waking up screaming was nothing new. But this was different. I knew the difference.

Something of a slob, each morning I took my blankets off the sofa and rolled them up in my arms. I'd go up to the hall closet. Open the door, throw the blankets in and slam the door before the ball of fabric rolled back out. One day when I did this, a corner of blanket got caught in the door jamb. My sister was right beside me. Laughed at the fact I'd have to open the door, and try again. When I opened the door, we both gasped. Literally, gasped.

Every blanket in the hall closet was folded and neatly stacked. Including the ones I'd just tossed in. There was no corner of a blanket by the door jamb.

One night when my parents were out, some friends were over. It was winter. I was sixteen. They were headed to Blockbuster to rent a movie. I stayed home. In the living room I watched TV. Alone. I heard floorboards creak. (The house was carpeted. No hardwoods). Someone was behind me on the stairs. I was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. No socks. No shoes. I needed to get out of the house. My legs didn't seem to work. I couldn't turn around. Wouldn't.

Instead, when I could finally stand, I stood. I kept my back to the stairs. I moved along the back of the couch slowly, and when I reached the door I booked out it. Into the snow. Feet cold, and ran for the street. Once in the street I turned back to the house. The front door slammed shut.

I waited outside for nearly twenty minutes, shivering, waiting for my friends to get back home. They all had a good laugh at my expense. I laughed along with them. Inside, my heart beat wildly against my ribcage.

It was on one night in particular that I learned Jenny's name.

I was asleep on the sofa. This may have been a dream. Felt like one. I'd opened my eyes, and seated on the chair across from me was a girl in a red robe. Her hair was wet, long, worn down over her face. (I wondered later if her hair covered her face because she had no eyes...)

She told me her name was Jenny. That she was not here to hurt me, but that she wanted a friend.

A friend.

One weekend when I was home for the weekend from Brockport, I'd brought a friend. She and I were in my room. We sat on my bed. She opened up to me, told me that she "saw" things no one else could see. I just politely nodded and listened as she counted off strange things she'd encountered. Know what? I didn't believe her. But I listened. Why not. I was just waiting for her to shut up, and take her shirt off. Figured I could stomach a few minutes of jibber-jabber.

And then she looked at me with wide eyes. She told me, we're not alone. I almost laughed. She wasn't joking. She asked me, "Who's Jenny."

My breath caught in my lungs. "What?" I asked.

"Jenny," she said. "Who's Jenny ... because she's not happy I'm here."

I grabbed the girl's hand. I got to my feet and ran for the bedroom door, pull/dragging her with me. As we stepped out of the bedroom, the bedroom door slammed shut. We practically flew down the stairs. Up in my room, things banged, and thumped and fell.

We ran out of the house ... breathless ...

Jenny might have wanted a friend, but she was jealous, it seemed. I don't think she liked me having a girl in the room. In fact, I think she was pissed.

Unfortunately, I never looked into Jenny, to try to figure out who she was, why she was haunting my parents' house, the way people do in movies, and in books ...

After getting married, and moving out of the house, I never saw signs of Jenny again. I've been back to my parents' house, have spent nights there, and nothing. Nothing.

I wonder if Jenny left; if she actually was a figment of my imagination, or . . . real?

To be honest, at this point -- I just don't know.

What I do know is, from the time I was 14, until I was 21, something kept me from sleeping in my room, kept me from ever getting a solid night's sleep. And, from the time I was 14 until I was 21, Jenny was as real as any ghost ... real. Whether she existed or not, whether you believe me or not, it happened.

That professor giving me a D was uncalled for. And I fought for a better grade, explaining all of this to the professor who, decidedly, changed my grade to a B.

Sincerely,
Phillip Tomasso