Skip to main content

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.

Comments

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

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the indisputable weight of the ocean

People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m

Oona Balloona (doesn't care about new tables)

Well, it's Friday, and since I'm pretty depleted in the chit-chat department, I might as well put up some pictures of Ol' Giggles At Ghosts before Grandma starts sending me hate mail. Man, what a goofball. At this rate it's going to be, like, eighteen years before she has gainful employment and moves out of the house. I mean, come on . * * * * * C is especially crazy and frantic today. About two months ago she decided that she no longer liked our dining room table (take that, dining room table! no more BFF for you!). Since then she's switched the dining room and kitchen table (and all the rest of the furniture in the house -- about thirty times, but that's another story) as a provisional solution while she scoured area stores for an upgrade. And she thought she had found one, on Wednesday, at JYSK ( Whatever , I said). But when she ordered it, JYSK called back to say that they were really low on stock, and that the stock they did have was damaged, and

some paintings to keep you company

  at the stations of seeing ; mixed media on cradled wood panel, 24 x 30 inches.   $350 local.     At the Stations of Seeing I expected something on the level of poetry moving the machinery within but instead it was wreckage and difficult instructions Recursive Procedures for Life Structures and that sort of thing. IF—THEN—ELSE where the option is optional CASE, which is multi-situational DO—WHILE the function is zero BREAK and LOOP again and again until failure. please CALL, if you can, or while you are still missed. . . . I went away for awhile, for various reasons, and now I am starting to come back. Where I finally end up is anyone's guess, but one of the stations on the path of that return is a willingness to sell my art again; this post is about just one of the larger paintings I currently have for sale for clients and customers in the Kingston area. A good place to start. The prices for these works are lower because the transaction is personal, easier — come by my stud