utterly Lost

I had some dental work done yesterday, a repair on a filling. Needles, elephant-face freezing, high-pitched drills, low-pitched drills, that finger in the corner of your mouth pulling the big fish around. It was all my idea for a change, unlike the root canal and crown I agreed to for later this summer (something about a little cloud on an x-ray), so I could hardly bitch about the after-party of pain. Which led me to do what I always do in these situations: I had a nap.

When I woke up I watched Lost. Or I tried to watch it, because the channel's signal kept cutting out. Still, the technical difficulties didn't hurt the episode that much: it was the same old baffling disconnect of senseless story and fractured picture, punctuated by white noise. It made me long for the dentist's chair.

This was a good show when it was about an island populated by small but insistently dark mysteries. Remember the black smoke? That was creepy. Now the only formula seems to be to have everything unmoored, all the time. Take any character, say ... someone's wife. Have her going for a swim. But wait, she's not going for a swim; she's going down to do some paperwork in the hidden submarine. And she's not really anyone's wife. She's a ghost. Or a polar bear in a wife suit. In a ghost suit.

I mean, I know it's in the title and everything, but leaving the viewer completely lost -- and at a loss -- amounts to nothing more than an exercise in frustration. My tolerance for pain is considerably higher when there's a point.


  1. nothing like a good old root canal to knock the sense in to ya. turn off that tv and draw!


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