Sunday, August 29, 2010

TV?

Can TV improve your writing?

Absolutely, if it's The West Wing, Gilmore Girls, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or (apparently) Breaking Bad and The Wire. I haven't watched the last two, but I understand from some of my writer friends that the writing in them is amazing.

TV-- especially, oddly, the music over action scenes-- inspires me. I've been watching The West Wing, and I couldn't get enough of it seasons 1-5; however, six kind of lost me. Took me almost the same amount of time to watch that one season as it did to watch the first five. And I'm seriously considering quitting with season seven. I still HIGHLY recommend those first five seasons, and I even feel they wrap up pretty neatly, so that six and seven aren't really necessary to your enjoyment of the show-- I mean, it won't leave you hanging.

Just to clarify, I'm a social conservative and an economic libertarian, so pretty much diametrically opposed to the stance of The West Wing writers, BUT. It's easy to get past that and just enjoy the cadence and chemistry of the show. Those first five seasons are pitch perfect.

So it's winding down, and I'm probably moving on to Breaking Bad next, but I'm always up for shows recommended by writers. They tend to be the best ones.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

You're My Default

And I find it a little sad, a little disappointing that after all of the years and the thousands of people I've met, I still dream about you.

We are young again, you are back and begging, and even behind my closed, dreaming eyes, I think, "Where did you come from?" And I find that dream projection of myself wondering if I can trust you this time. Telling, that even in a world I've created through quiet night hours and subconscious thoughts of my own, I can't trust you. And more telling still is the fact that I so desperately want to.

Twenty years can pass, and in those dreams it is a matter of days. And I'm trying to hide from you, from that conversation, from those memories, even as you pursue me with pictures drawn and letters written, cards created, a schoolboy once more-- I try to reconcile that with who I am now.

And I always awake confused. Because in waking life, I am happy. I am content with my world, the people that surround me, and so it surprises me to wake with a feeling of loss, my chest aching just as though I'd been crying in my sleep.