I had a friend named David when I was in graduate school, a very smart and very talented friend, who told me once that it is impossible to write an unlikable narrator in the first person.
The readers will identify with him, he said, no matter how terrible you try to make him. They will see themselves in him and they will love him.
I just finished the last season of the Sopranos.
All I have to say is: I am the mobster, and the mobster is me.
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
TV Night
I've never had a TV night before, because I've never watched enough TV to warrant one. But now, Monday is my TV night, due to How I Met Your Mother and Heroes being on.
I was disappointed in TV night long before the writer's strike, and now I will take time from my busy schedule to tell you why, as if you care.
Lazy writing.
First off--Characters behaving in out of character ways. Predominantly, I've been pleased with this season's How I Met Your Mother, with the large exception of Lily's credit card thing. I mean, please. We've been led to believe that Marshall and Lily tell each other EVERYTHING. We've seen whole episodes that revolved around this idea, where Marshall recounts for her what it was like to brush his teeth and then drink orange juice. It is just not believable to me that she has kept a secret this large from him.
But mostly I have a problem with this season's Heroes.
What is going on with that show? Last season it was, like, the best television I'd ever seen. Now it's some of the most convoluted, bizarrely justified nonsense.
1. Last week, we caught up on the last 4 months as Peter remembered them. Except that we learned an awful lot about Nikki and DL. Which is curious, as how could Peter be remembering all that? Sloppy, sloppy writing.
2. Was it me, or did Micah actually say, "Wow, you're really a hero now, Dad!" To which DL replied, "I guess I am"? Because, retch. Ditto to Matt's confrontation with his father.
3. I hate the border crossing, eye-bleeding twins. That is not a power, and they are so boring to me that I want to die whenever they are on screen. Sylar better figure out how to off them soon.
4. I also hate the whole Molly Walker story line. Mohinder and Matt's constant bickering makes me wish they would just kiss already. And under what circumstances would Mohinder EVER turn Molly over to the Company? I don't think so.
5. And why is Peter in love with this Irish chick we just met five seconds ago? I'm not buying it.
6. And while we're talking about things that are poorly justified--some dude KILLS DL because he removes Nikki from a club. Come on, now.
Things I do like: Adam, the alchemist (Bob), Nathan, and West. But that's all.
TV night had better rock tonight.
edited at 10:27 to add that tonights TV rocked. Perhaps I should blog diatribes against my favorite TV shows more often.
And this is for Tom, who thinks we've all gone soft and don't say it enough: Fuck.
I was disappointed in TV night long before the writer's strike, and now I will take time from my busy schedule to tell you why, as if you care.
Lazy writing.
First off--Characters behaving in out of character ways. Predominantly, I've been pleased with this season's How I Met Your Mother, with the large exception of Lily's credit card thing. I mean, please. We've been led to believe that Marshall and Lily tell each other EVERYTHING. We've seen whole episodes that revolved around this idea, where Marshall recounts for her what it was like to brush his teeth and then drink orange juice. It is just not believable to me that she has kept a secret this large from him.
But mostly I have a problem with this season's Heroes.
What is going on with that show? Last season it was, like, the best television I'd ever seen. Now it's some of the most convoluted, bizarrely justified nonsense.
1. Last week, we caught up on the last 4 months as Peter remembered them. Except that we learned an awful lot about Nikki and DL. Which is curious, as how could Peter be remembering all that? Sloppy, sloppy writing.
2. Was it me, or did Micah actually say, "Wow, you're really a hero now, Dad!" To which DL replied, "I guess I am"? Because, retch. Ditto to Matt's confrontation with his father.
3. I hate the border crossing, eye-bleeding twins. That is not a power, and they are so boring to me that I want to die whenever they are on screen. Sylar better figure out how to off them soon.
4. I also hate the whole Molly Walker story line. Mohinder and Matt's constant bickering makes me wish they would just kiss already. And under what circumstances would Mohinder EVER turn Molly over to the Company? I don't think so.
5. And why is Peter in love with this Irish chick we just met five seconds ago? I'm not buying it.
6. And while we're talking about things that are poorly justified--some dude KILLS DL because he removes Nikki from a club. Come on, now.
Things I do like: Adam, the alchemist (Bob), Nathan, and West. But that's all.
TV night had better rock tonight.
edited at 10:27 to add that tonights TV rocked. Perhaps I should blog diatribes against my favorite TV shows more often.
And this is for Tom, who thinks we've all gone soft and don't say it enough: Fuck.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Cartoon Physics
Thomas and I took all our change to the coinstar on Friday night. We made 122 dollars and went promptly to Best Buy to get the first season of Heroes on DVD. Neither of us had ever seen an episode before, but we'd heard that it ruled.
This morning, as we were watching the second episode, and we were whispering things to each other like, "Ok, so I guess we're to understand that it runs in families" as we figured out the rules to this alternate universe, I was suddenly reminded of a poem I love by Nick Flynn, called
Cartoon Physics, part 1.
Children under, say, ten, shouldn’t know
that the universe is ever-expanding,
inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies
swallowed by galaxies, whole
solar systems collapsing, all of it
acted out in silence. At ten we are still learning
the rules of cartoon animation,
that if a man draws a door on a rock
only he can pass through it.
Anyone else who tries
will crash into the rock. Ten-year-olds
should stick with burning houses, car wrecks,
ships going down--earthbound, tangible
disasters, arenas where they can be heroes. You can run
back into a burning house, sinking ships
have lifeboats, the trucks will come
with their ladders, if you jump
you will be saved. A child
places her hand on the roof of a schoolbus,
and drives across a city of sand. She knows
the exact spot it will skid, at which point
the bridge will give, who will swim to safety
and who will be pulled under by sharks. She will learn
that if a man runs off the edge of a cliff
he will not fall
until he notices his mistake.
This morning, as we were watching the second episode, and we were whispering things to each other like, "Ok, so I guess we're to understand that it runs in families" as we figured out the rules to this alternate universe, I was suddenly reminded of a poem I love by Nick Flynn, called
Cartoon Physics, part 1.
Children under, say, ten, shouldn’t know
that the universe is ever-expanding,
inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies
swallowed by galaxies, whole
solar systems collapsing, all of it
acted out in silence. At ten we are still learning
the rules of cartoon animation,
that if a man draws a door on a rock
only he can pass through it.
Anyone else who tries
will crash into the rock. Ten-year-olds
should stick with burning houses, car wrecks,
ships going down--earthbound, tangible
disasters, arenas where they can be heroes. You can run
back into a burning house, sinking ships
have lifeboats, the trucks will come
with their ladders, if you jump
you will be saved. A child
places her hand on the roof of a schoolbus,
and drives across a city of sand. She knows
the exact spot it will skid, at which point
the bridge will give, who will swim to safety
and who will be pulled under by sharks. She will learn
that if a man runs off the edge of a cliff
he will not fall
until he notices his mistake.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Just Hide it Under the Bed
Random Thought: every time I start a blog post, I type "So," and then I go back and delete it, because if I didn't, every single one of my posts would begin "So," as if this were all some sort of endless conversation.
So, this morning, I got up at 7:30 and planted 100 bulbs in the yard. My lovely sister got me tulips, allium and hyacinths for my birthday and I've been putting off planting them for so long that I was afraid totally laziness would take over and they would all die. I kept telling myself, "You live in North Carolina. It's not too late until the last week of November," but this morning I got a bee in my bonnet and just got it done. I felt very accomplished at 8:30. By 11, we'd cooked breakfast and cleaned the house. Woo! All our tasks were done for today! Then we wondered what the hell to do with ourselves and ended up watching a fair portion of the new Sopranos box set.
Because we don't have cable (I'm not opposed to TV, I just know that if we had it, I would never read, blog, crochet, garden or grade any of my students' work) we see most of our tv shows after they've been released to box set. We hadn't seen the Sopranos in over a year, because the makers of the Sopranos box sets hate me and want me to die. Starting up the first disc, I felt like when your high school friends visit: you're excited, but nervous that you won't have anything in common anymore.
I've pretty much cried my way through every episode so far: the sixth season has started off very heavy. I'm worried, because this is how I stopped watching Six Feet Under, the greatest show ever. By the end of the third season, I was growing noticably depressed, like, time to go back on Paxil depressed. At the end of every episode, I'd stand out on my front porch and look at the sky and wonder why the world is such a horrible, horrible place. Tres dramatic, I know. Sometimes, I have to ask myself why I want to watch beautifully written and portrayed scenes of horror and anguish.
I think maybe TV gets too intense for me because I can't put it down. When I'm reading and I reach something that is just too tense, too loaded, too, too, too, I take the book and stick it under the bed until I feel better. How sad to admit that. But you can't hide your TV shows under the bed. Especially not when someone is watching them with you.
So, this morning, I got up at 7:30 and planted 100 bulbs in the yard. My lovely sister got me tulips, allium and hyacinths for my birthday and I've been putting off planting them for so long that I was afraid totally laziness would take over and they would all die. I kept telling myself, "You live in North Carolina. It's not too late until the last week of November," but this morning I got a bee in my bonnet and just got it done. I felt very accomplished at 8:30. By 11, we'd cooked breakfast and cleaned the house. Woo! All our tasks were done for today! Then we wondered what the hell to do with ourselves and ended up watching a fair portion of the new Sopranos box set.
Because we don't have cable (I'm not opposed to TV, I just know that if we had it, I would never read, blog, crochet, garden or grade any of my students' work) we see most of our tv shows after they've been released to box set. We hadn't seen the Sopranos in over a year, because the makers of the Sopranos box sets hate me and want me to die. Starting up the first disc, I felt like when your high school friends visit: you're excited, but nervous that you won't have anything in common anymore.
I've pretty much cried my way through every episode so far: the sixth season has started off very heavy. I'm worried, because this is how I stopped watching Six Feet Under, the greatest show ever. By the end of the third season, I was growing noticably depressed, like, time to go back on Paxil depressed. At the end of every episode, I'd stand out on my front porch and look at the sky and wonder why the world is such a horrible, horrible place. Tres dramatic, I know. Sometimes, I have to ask myself why I want to watch beautifully written and portrayed scenes of horror and anguish.
I think maybe TV gets too intense for me because I can't put it down. When I'm reading and I reach something that is just too tense, too loaded, too, too, too, I take the book and stick it under the bed until I feel better. How sad to admit that. But you can't hide your TV shows under the bed. Especially not when someone is watching them with you.
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