Bad, vile and meaningless: Odd parallels from Alan's clob

Odd parallels accidentally imposed by Christmastime

So I am sitting at my old room in my home, and I'm about to start watching Twin Peaks on DVD using my laptop and pair of Logitech Z3 speakers I bothered to carry home in my backpack.

(I must do the product placement thing here. These Z3s are pretty great speakers. For the price, ~ 80 € you would be hard pressed to find anything better. Excellent soundfield for watching movies in the middle of the night at close range; just arrange them right at the edges of the screen and enjoy! Okay, and remember: this paragraph doesn't exist. It is a subliminal advertisement.)

The parallel thing is that I remember a time about 10 years ago when I would take the TV off my desk, place it on my chair, snug under the blanket and hide under cover while tuning to the world of Twin Peaks.

Now Twin Peaks, 10 years ago, was fascinating, captivating and scaring series. All the weird stuff about owls, dark woods, weird scenes, and this weird guy that's the murderer showing around supernaturally... I could not escape internalizing this series and even got quite accustomed to nightmares after each episode. It was all part of the package I wouldn't have missed for the world.

Watching it now is still fascinating and captivating, but the scaredness has been given away to the appreciation of the utter Lynchness of what I'm watching. This director is someone whose works I generally adore greatly, even if I find quite a number of them (like Rabbits) completely unapproachable. But I love his characters, his shots, the usual appreciation of beauty that so well serves as a front for the much darker currents underneath.

Magical stuff. My silly parents warned me they'd drag me off bed Early, but the hell with it. I can't put away a good mood. Even writing about the good mood is distracting me from it, so back I'm going to go, from Pilot to Ep01.

And after...

First DVD's done now. It's midnight. Oh well, at least I'm pleasantly tired. The first bad news is that for whatever reason, Ubuntu didn't enable DMA for my cd-rom drive by default. Incredible, I haven't seen such a thing happen for years and years. I was wondering why the DVD playback was a bit choppy, so I started eliminating the suspects. After determining it was not the X server or the overlay mode, and that Composite extension wasn't fucking it up, I whipped hdparm out of my /sbin...

The second news was that I didn't feel totally good at the end. Perhaps too much of Twin Peaks. There's apparently a limit to it, which ranges in some 1-2 hours at once, and then it just makes me want to grab bunch of key characters by their windpipes and squeeze real hard. But the sheer diversity of life in TP is definitely worth a bit of appreciation before pulling the trigger. I pause.

In a way, watching Twin Peaks wasn't so much like I anticipated it to be. Neither is my old room like what it used to be. Neither fact surprises me a great deal, though. My room: there's a ghastly picture of me on the wall, aged 2 years. I'd take a shot of it but Leena has the camera at her parents'.

Rest of the room has junk that used to be elsewhere in the house around the time I lived here. There's a flower stand, couple of black-and-white framed needlework that are probably Very Old. There's religious stuff. 3x some silly diplomas I got from school/the international chemistry olympiad/whatever.

My old wooden watch that is supposed to be shaped after Finland. I guess it's shaped in certain mathematical sense, much like a coffee cup is shaped after a torus. The left arm of Miss Finland quite much reminds me of an upturned penis. The "head" is round bulk that could give Stephen King nightmares. The waist has bulges that you wouldn't want to look up from an anatomy book, for fear of thinking of the disease that must have caused it.

In a way, I can't escape thinking that I have covered an enormous distance from who I were, and yet, still, parts of me remain underdeveloped, just as my eye for woodwork hasn't quite taken off. My father can convert a block of wood into a spoon or a host of other things, but I have only an abstract idea of what such a task must entail.

In yet more ways: would you really spend the evening before going to spend the christmas with your parents thinking about what music to put on your laptop, and then execute the insane plan of taking a set of loudspeakers with you?

There's always been this streak of extremism and even madness to myself, and yet that streak seems to not have made me accomplish anything but me looking after my comfort and allowing myself breaches of protocol for said goal. This streak is really about laziness, selfishness, of accumulating things around you to make the world around you look like you. So that any moment I walk around I look into the mirror that I've built and can feel comfort in its likeness to myself.

Oh dear. I thought about having some bit of analysis about Twin Peaks and instead got carried away. Time to close this entry for good and bury it on the server. My half of heart to you, anonymous. Thanks for reading all the way down, for it must have been painful.