â€œItâ€™s been a while since thereâ€™s been a show for the people who are actually watching TV most of the time, which is everybody between New York and LA,â€ said Patricia Heaton, who grew up in Ohio.
You make the clown cry, Patricia Heaton. Just because you grew up in Ohio but escaped you decree that everyone who lives in this country, except for in two coastal cities, are TV zombies? Guess what? I have no idea what TV show you’re on right now. Don’t watch it. Don’t care. I would hazard a guess though that’s it’s a sitcom in which you are married to 1) a fat guy or 2) a lovable moron. So exactly who is wasting their life????
That’s as much venom as I can muster today after waking up too early this morning in order to think about stupid shit. Why does this happen? Wide awake at 4:45… Here are the the items that seemed very important at that hour of the day.
Sex and The City II. Should I see it? Will I see it? Would it be shameful to see it? I watched the entire series and saw the first movie twice. Oh God. That’s horrible. I’m the moron Patricia Heaton is talking about even though I hardly ever watch TV. Just HBO shows. And AMC shows. And Showtime shows. I consider myself part of the Cultured Cable set although I don’t get cable. Does that count for anything?
The SATC thing is getting ridiculous. Pretty soon we’re going to be down to the plot line in which Samantha goes through The Change. Or someone needs diapers. That’s mean. That’s not PC. That’s ageism.
I haven’t tried to find out but I can bet that this latest movie involves Carrie Bradshaw and a baby. Sigh. They just can’t leave well enough alone. If there are two characters on TV or in the movies that should not be parents, I’d say Carrie Bradshaw and Mr. Big. Can’t we have that fantasy? Do they have to rip it away from us? Maybe I should go online and see if I can find any plot spoilers…
But no, because I just remembered a song I made up when I was in grade school. Or did I make it up? I can only really remember the chorus at this point: “Users are losers and losers are users, so don’t do drugs. DON’T DO DRUGS!” Or was it “don’t use dope?” Would I have known what dope was?
How embarrassing. You know what I always think about when I remember stuff like this? I think about how, when they are doing brain surgery, they can touch parts of your brain and activate old memories and stuff. Have you ever seen those surgeries or experiments? They’ll be poking around in someone’s brain and they’ll start singing the “ABC’s.” So of course I imagine myself lying on the table, head cracked open, suddenly breaking into, “Users are losers and losers are users, so don’t do drugs.” Or just maybe I’d start singing “Cotton-Eyed Joe.”
OK, here’s something interesting. Remember that guy who had that project back when eBay was new in which he sold everything he owned and then went around the country visiting the people who bought his stuff? Weird. The name of the book that came out of that was called “All My Life For Sale.” I always meant to check that out. His premise was that all his stuff was starting to weigh him down. He felt trapped by his stuff, both mentally and physically.
I’ve been feeling like that lately. I’ve gotten rid of a bunch of stuff. A couple times I just went down into my basement, looked at something and put it in a box to give away. There’s a certain glee that comes with doing this. It’s addictive. I start thinking about more stuff I don’t need. I have a box of antique Czech belt buckles. Some of them are still on their backing – never used. Some of them are just retro belt buckles. Don’t ask why I have them. I just do. But I don’t need them. I thought I would use them but it’s been six or seven years. What’s the time line for a failed experiment?
Is my entire life a failed experiment?
I should sell those belt buckles. I should sell all my Giant Robot magazines because, while they are cool, am I ever going to read them again? Would they make someone happy?
I should get rid of just about everything. Except jewelry. Except clothes I like. I mean, not the TV. We just bought that! How did that guy ever part with everything?
Is the novel dead? A lot of people who say noseem to be over 40. I don’t think it is, really. I’m reading a new novel right now – Matterhorn. Pretty good so far. I usually don’t read war novels so I’m giving it a go. What I’m trying to decide here is… I have this idea… I’ve had it for almost 4 years… should it be a screenplay or novel? This is stupid. This is ridiculous. Of course I know I should just… do… something. But then I get hung up. A psychologist or someone smarter than me (Yoda?) would say, “You’re just trying to avoid having to do anything. By making no choice you are making a choice.” Well. Fuck you, imaginary smart person.
Novel or screenplay? I’ve started it as a novel. I’ve written a short story that is basically the beginning of a book. But when I think about the mental contortions required to crank this thing out into a novel or a very good screenplay… Well, let’s just say that going to see SATC II starts to look like a very fun time indeed. Especially if I sat there with a big bucket of popcorn, a carton of soda and a box of Milk Duds. Especially if, during the film, I kept checking my text messages. Yep, good old Midwestern moron, here.
OK, there should be a guide to movies in which every plot description is written in haiku. Like, really funny haikus. I can’t think of any right now but I could if I tried and it would be a funny book. Books like that always get published. Or books in which something changed someone’s life. Like the All My Life For Sale book. Or just a book like, “Making My Bed: How Getting Up Every Morning and Making My Bed For 365 Days Made Me Love My Life.” People love that stuff. Like, “The Missing Socks: How Ending Up With One Sock Each From Many Pairs Taught Me How To Love Being Single.” Shit like that. Making lemonade from lemons. Transformation. Redemption. If I meet one more person who says Shawshank Redemption is their all-time favorite movie…
Novel or script? Novel or script?
Oh, it’s time to get up.
4 thoughts on “Exiled From The Land of Slumber”
This reminds me of a comment I made on MetaFilter a few months ago, in a thread about some sleep-deprivation article:
[The article] ignores the entire sleep-destroying world that is pet ownership. The dog gets up and moves around, making tons of noise. The dog cries at 5 AM to go out. So you wake up and try to figure out if she really has to go or is just bullshitting you. Probably bullshitting, but the effort of trying to figure it out just makes you more awake. Meanwhile the cat has been sleeping on various parts of you all night, either pinning you down or locking the covers or gassing you with assy cat-breath. And then when the dog gets going, the cat perceives that you’re awake, and starts with the meowing and the face-clawing. And suppose you manage to ride this out or buy some peace by getting up and feeding/letting out the menagerie, and then somehow get back to sleep?
Well, then the cat wakes you up by barfing, and as you try to cling to sleep, you’re horrified by the sound of the dog eating it.
Pets are not good for sleep.
Oh, you and I definitely have a date to see SATC2.
Yes to SATC 2. Why the hell not?!?! I may crash your sister date. Let me know when.
I would also like to note that there is no “Jersey Shore” or “Hills” equivalent for mid-America…so who are the morons?
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