Promises of what I seemed to be
Only watched the time
go by
All of these
things you said to me
I feel like this is the calm before the storm. Marshalling energy and time for the next frenzy of activity, trying to balance the obligations vs. desires vs. expectations vs. opportunity.
We are currently celebrating the arrival of our lowest monthly credit card bill since the mid-90's. (I always insist on paying it in full, each month.) We are currently restraining ourselves form celebrating said bill with a bacchanalian orgy in the aisles of Costco and Bob Ward that may or may not involve Gore-Tex, a trampoline, five gallons of melted cheese, a humidifier, an inflatable kayak, and chipped beef.
India and I love to watch television series on DVD, particularly those of the HBO variety. It started with a little Sopranos habit, and blossomed into full-blown addiction. I prefer watching them this way, as I cannot wait week to week for the latest installment. I am too impatient, and I hate being a slave to television. (We have to leave... NOW. 24 is on in 12 minutes.) I know, I know, buy TIVO. We're on a fixed income, and we are saving up for a Costco orgy. And we have this weird cable/satellite thing that won't allow it.
We received the latest discs from Season 4 of Six Feet Under from netflix. (Netflix has changed my life. I was genetically incapable of returning a movie by its due date, and I have wasted hours of my life, wandering around video stores in a stupor, lamenting the dearth of quality and abundance of shit on the shelves.)
We promptly plowed through two episodes Monday night and three more last night... and holy shit. Just when I thought I couldn't be shocked, the last episode was horrifying. (David gets duped/robbed/beaten/forced to smoke crack at gunpoint/carjacked.) India had to get up and leave. It was pretty damn disturbing.
The series has ended, and the final season has yet to be released on DVD. The Wire looks like it wrapped itself up in a tidy package with last season's finale. When the Sopranos ends next year, I am going pause for a moment of silence, then weep bitterly and go on a tear that will end with me having a stroke in my boxers on the couch with pizza crusts strewn about.
Hopefully, I will be revived in time for Deadwood.
We are currently celebrating the arrival of our lowest monthly credit card bill since the mid-90's. (I always insist on paying it in full, each month.) We are currently restraining ourselves form celebrating said bill with a bacchanalian orgy in the aisles of Costco and Bob Ward that may or may not involve Gore-Tex, a trampoline, five gallons of melted cheese, a humidifier, an inflatable kayak, and chipped beef.
India and I love to watch television series on DVD, particularly those of the HBO variety. It started with a little Sopranos habit, and blossomed into full-blown addiction. I prefer watching them this way, as I cannot wait week to week for the latest installment. I am too impatient, and I hate being a slave to television. (We have to leave... NOW. 24 is on in 12 minutes.) I know, I know, buy TIVO. We're on a fixed income, and we are saving up for a Costco orgy. And we have this weird cable/satellite thing that won't allow it.
We received the latest discs from Season 4 of Six Feet Under from netflix. (Netflix has changed my life. I was genetically incapable of returning a movie by its due date, and I have wasted hours of my life, wandering around video stores in a stupor, lamenting the dearth of quality and abundance of shit on the shelves.)
We promptly plowed through two episodes Monday night and three more last night... and holy shit. Just when I thought I couldn't be shocked, the last episode was horrifying. (David gets duped/robbed/beaten/forced to smoke crack at gunpoint/carjacked.) India had to get up and leave. It was pretty damn disturbing.
The series has ended, and the final season has yet to be released on DVD. The Wire looks like it wrapped itself up in a tidy package with last season's finale. When the Sopranos ends next year, I am going pause for a moment of silence, then weep bitterly and go on a tear that will end with me having a stroke in my boxers on the couch with pizza crusts strewn about.
Hopefully, I will be revived in time for Deadwood.
posted by Joe at
1:59 PM
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