Again with this stuff in Adjunct to 8/9/2013 flash friday; a trinity of flashs

I just finished a sons of anarchy marathon. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything in the last two days, nothing I can remember. Those two things aren’t related, well, not directly, everything is related, everything is all happening at the same time, always.

I started watching the first season because fifteen feet from my computer screen was the only light I could bear and I’ve been stuck in this attic with the drain broken and my head throbbing and because I know a dog named after the main character.

I guess I’ve been watching it longer than a few days, 7 seasons, at least 13 episodes a season, each about an hour long. Huh. I’d never seen the show before. I’d seen ads for it, my son was always recommending it. I think if I had better things to do it would have taken longer.

I once went on a Chuck Palahniuk bender, read like seven in a row and I just couldn’t read anymore. I like Chuck, it’s just, you know, too much, which is much softer a condemnation than too, too, too. Not a fair comparison, TV has boundaries, the only boundary a novel has is plot. I mean shit has to happen and whether you like it or not the protagonist has to be changed by the end. TV is competing with a much shorter attention span. That’s how reality TV got a foot hold; shit doesn’t even need to make sense as long as something is always happening. It’s like action without a plot, um, except for the idea that someone cut 72 hours of film into a half hour, not even a full half hour if you count commercials.

Wow, see? Not tracking real well. So, yeah, it was ok, no offense. I like this trend from the last decade or so of shows actually ending instead of just not returning for another season. Of course I can see someone who followed the show for seven years feeling like they lost a friend. I feel that way after a good book, sometimes even after a bad one, though as my muzzle gets grey and I’m long in the tooth I haven’t the patience to finish a bad book. I don’t really start them anymore. TV is easy to have on and not watch too though.

I would be surprised if I haven’t mentioned this a bunch of times before; but waking up with a tv on fills me with dread. Hmmm, that’s too pat a phrase and too mild. It’s a deep soul sucking dark black feeling to wake up with the TV on. I’m sure there must have been some event in my childhood, I don’t recall. But think of your worst phobia and apply it to waking up with a TV on. No, that doesn’t work. If you are scared of spiders you get an adrenaline rush and can’t even begin to calm down until you know the spider is dead. Waking up with the TV on — there’s nothing to kill, no energy, it’s a deep hole of nothing.

A bunch of time passed between the above paragraphs and this one. I might have gotten married, disposed of a body, written my swansong and then the sequel, got divorced, repossessed a body, chewed the fat and put some irons in the fire; probably not in that order. Maybe I didn’t do anything, though that seems a bit unlikely.

Sons of anarchy was ok, no offense to big fans of the show. The guys I’ve known who have been in bike gangs mostly drank beer and worked on their bikes. I mean there was all that charter shit, remind me a bit of the boyscouts. Again, no offense. The soundtrack is interesting and a bit maudlin and the premise a bit over the top. Fuck. I don’t remember, I disposed of a body and got a divorce in-between paragraphs. I might have had some profound shit to say.