I have no doubt that we’re all adrift in some capacity because that’s life, but honestly I just wanted to use “whilst” in a headline. Such a good word that mainly only the British Empire uses.
If you’re guessing things are going to be random, then I like the cut of your jib.
I’ll bet you would never have guessed that I’m reversing course and willing to (or being coerced to) watch the final two episodes of “True Detective: Things Go Bump In the Dark.”
But I am.
Basically the argument was “you’ve endured the first four, what if the fifth is marginally better, huh, what then?” I mean, the end is near, so why not.
Just don’t call it hate watching.
I mean, you can. I don’t make the rules. And a good argument could be made that given my past comments this would indeed constitute hate watching. But I’m on record as saying life is too short for hate watching and I am not changing that now.
I do, however, have a serious question for those who, uh, partake:
Why?
No, I mean that thoughtfully. I would love to hear why some of you will “hate watch” shows. I doubt that you’re all members of a doomsday cult and have the same thoughts and visions. Each of you may have very different reasons for hate watching. So, in the comments, let me know. And not just “True Detective: Dubious Deeds In the Dark,” but any others you’ve watched, or are watching. Does the hate watching work out? Does the end justify the….watching? When it doesn’t work out, what’s your take on things? Upset? Non-plussed? Let me know.
When is a move successful but also not?
When it never ends.
(And yes I said move, not movie, but I’m sure it applies.)
Actually things have been pretty interesting in Moving Hell Month, so here’s some highlights or lowlights depending on how cruel you are:
We’ve got one “frozen shoulder” downgraded to just “really fucked up rotator cuff.” (Not mine). We’ve got two cut fingers/hands (mine). Three messed up knees (KB’s, a friends). One stone cold look of “How are you getting these in and out of the truck, little person?” shot my way via my Magical Furniture Warehouse workers who, credit to the same person who shot me the look, also thought I was a full-time interior designer because I’m there so much (true story).
And yes, I was actually buying furniture in the middle of moving furniture. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, people. It’s weird and scary out there.
I do now have the best desk set up I’ve ever had in my writing life and it’s not even a desk but an 8 foot 4 inch modernist white table that’s three feet deep and heavier than my soul.
When I’m not working as a mover and potential AirBnB designer then I hope to write some really great shit on top of it. I’ll keep you posted.
I was driving a rented cargo van like a cliched bat out of hell sometime this month (it all blurs) and while doing it recalled a passage I had written for a show. I had meant there to be this unexplained tonal diversion in the story that potentially foretold Bad Things and there’s a driving scene in it and all of a sudden I was somehow living in my own (previously) fictional scene, recreating it, all in a bid to return the cargo van I had rented that morning back by 5 p.m. in rush hour traffic to save another day’s fees.
Shit is rough out there, people. This Substack sees its biggest churn in January and February and all it takes is a few failed billings and a few people deciding to opt out to really make you press the accelerator to save $94.
It’s a thrilling life and I wouldn’t change it for anything, but man you should have seen me tearing into my Secret Suburban Cul de Sac with roughly 35 minutes before the deadline and having to take out that table I mentioned above with only the help of a lovely woman with knees apparently made of balsa wood.
It was quite a scene. And we kicked ass on it. LFG!
I had to get a second storage unit, which I knew you were dying to learn about. I recycled shit, gave a bunch to Goodwill, have a massive chunk scheduled for my Bulky Pick Up on the last Monday of the month but I SOMEHOW STILL FILLED THAT SECOND STORAGE UNIT.
Even minimalists have nightmares.
If you’re scoring at home — and everyone should be (old school ESPN shout out) — there was:
Me and KB driving a 17 foot Soviet Era truck with major play in the bus-styled steering wheel harrowingly from Concord to Oakland to Monterey and back to Oakland then back to Concord whereby two Killing It In Our Demo people successfully moved a ping-pong table, a large BBQ grill, a couch, a queen bed and multiple other items, which was Move No. 1.
The formerly great idea of renting a cargo van for one day — deadline 5 p.m.! — and filling it with more furniture before a move that arguably has too much furniture already and pulling it off successfully minus a messed up back, probably a groin pull and 48 following hours of immobility, which would be Move No. 2.
A three-plus hour Lugg move which cleared out let’s say 1/3 of my Oakland rental and put it in semi-long-term storage, which would be Move No. 3. I know that my kids are probably not going to want all the furniture I saved for them nor probably much of the childhood memories that made me cry constantly in the moving process, but this is what we do. We fool ourself that it’s not the same “junk” our parents had; it’s a well curated collection of Important Items that they will one day need and appreciate.
That third move left me without a kitchen table and pretty much the only flat surface in the house, at least temporarily, is this:
I’m moving my sister to Portland where she has generously agreed to — wait for it — live on and amongst what is 98 percent my furniture, lighting and art. In the process I’m moving up from Oakland my favorite sofa to my own Portland Pied-à-terre, which will replace my formerly favorite sofa already there that now moves to her place. Also going up: queen mattress for intra-PDX swap, second 8 foot 4 inch monster table/desk; wait, did I forget to mention I bought two? (price, as usual, was insanely cheap relative to retail cost), and a bunch of furniture from Oakland that my sister will now use, which then guts my Oakland place by 3/4. We drive up next week (and then back down a couple of days later). That’s Move No. 4.
Before February closes out, I move the rest — Move No. 5 — to my partner KB’s Secret Suburban Cul de Sac, which is my New Home (unless and until she kicks me out, I suppose?). Thus ends what will be two months shy of 24 years in Oakland. And, in theory, ends the moves.
For the record, ever since I was a mere towheaded boy I’ve been a 49ers fan (plus I lived there first), so you can’t hold my territorial allegiances against me:
At least the Warriors are playing better.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got boxes to pack and shows to watch. Ooooh, hey, look at this sofa for sale…fade to black.
Started True Detective: Night Country tonight. I'm kind of loving Jodie Foster's borderline abusive behavior and the counterpoint of Kali Reis' driven trooper. The physical contrast between them is striking with Foster's petite frame and delicate features and Reis' size and physical power while they both share a strength (though Reis has far more visible empathy). This juxtaposition alone makes me want to see what will happen — and how they'll clash.
I guess I'll see if it all goes downhill in Episode three or four.
The music is kind of great, though...
For me, the line between "hate watching" and "being a completist" is very situational. If the show has no announced end in sight, there's a week between episodes, and the show seems to be spinning its wheels indefinitely, I have no problem dropping it (Lost; Smallville). But if it's a limited series (can we please start calling them miniseries again?) and I'm watching it quickly, I'll blaze through to the end. The two that spring to mind for the latter are Bodyguard (Richard Madden, Keeley Hawes) and London Spy (Ben Whishaw, Jim Broadbent). Both of them started falling apart halfway through, in that way best illustrated by the comedy bit where a driver gets out of their jalopy and a few individual parts fall off sequentially, and then the entire chassis drops to the ground. It really comes down to what my expected investment is, versus my predicted payoff.