I think the cable company has installed a magnet in my ass as well as in the couch. For the last 10 hours I've been held against the comfy cushions, only pulling away from the force when I need to defecate or eat something that can be made during a commercial break.
(After proof reading that sentence I sound like I'm talking about eating defecation. But I'm not. You're the sicko here. Not me. Unless you didn't think that that last sentence was about eating defecation at all, in which case I am the sicko. Anyway. Continue reading.)
Granted, this is not something that I do all the time. We're presently house sitting for Lipman's folks and one perk is a giant television with over 82 channels.
At home, I only get FOX and PBS. Sometimes I can pick up NBC if I stand right next to the antenna with one arm extended at a right angle, knees slightly bent and my anus muscles tightly gripped. If they are relaxed, all I get is static.
I'm taking advantage of the situation and am indulging myself by watching CourtTV, TLC, Comedy Central. Sometimes I'll take a nap on the couch with the monotone voice of the local weather channel soothing me to slumber and creeping into my REM.
"Local rain forecast: 20% chance. Partly cloudy. Winds NE at 3 knots. Barometer readings below 34 mgs. Sunday forecast. Rain chances below 10%. Overcast prediction. Leroy's Hottie Rating: 89%. Winds NS at 42 knots. Partly cloudy. Falling while trapped in an elevator chances: 36%. Barometer reading with arms tapestried in heavy fabrics: 42 mgs. Leroy you're late for your final in Sex Education 101: 69%. The barometer wants to strip for you: 42 mgs...." and so on and so forth. You get the obvious point.
Lipman hates HATES that I watch television. He stamps about the house and huffs and puffs and says things like, "I can't believe that you watch this crap.," and "Bloody Americans' and their fucking television. No wonder all of your asses are so bloody fat." He then holes himself up in a room and strums on his guitar or writing lyrics like "Bloody Hands. Bloody Fat Asses. Tune in to your local news to hear what you should be scared of. Attack. Attttaaaack."
Sometimes if feels like I'm dating Michael Moore and Thom Yorke's bastard love child.
And I get really pissed when Lipman gives me shit for watching television. Because he's one of those types of people that has to constantly be doing something that he deems is productive or else his entire day (and, thus, his life) is fucked. And it's cool that he's like that. I think it's great. It's just not my style.
My style is to chill out. Relax. If you feel inspired by something then dammit get up and be inspired by it. Until that inspiration hits, I'll be magnetized to the couch-- eyes glazed on whatever is on the screen.
Today I just happened to do it for about 10 hours.
Now, however. Now I'm slowly becoming a bit sick of it all. I have reached the point where I want to grab Paige Davis' head between my hands and squeeze it until it pops. I want to stop being intrigued by the shiny chrome on the trucks that drive through sandy beaches and muddy fields. I want to not cry at the cheesy parts in Space Camp. I want to get the theme song of old Saturday Night Live episodes out of my head. I've gotten to the breaking point and I really cannot take it any longer.
I bet you are surprised to see that I used a : to lead my greeting, as : is only used in a cold, business, professional letter and you and I have a more ! or , or --- relationship.
Television, we need to talk. Please place yourself on Mute as I just need to get all of this stuff off of my chest without being interrupted.
We've known each other for a really long time and I have to say that you are one of the sweetest, funniest, most thrilling, exciting, educational and entertaining forms of media I've ever been lucky enough to encounter. The tears. The laughter. The surprises. The cliff hangers. The Showcase Showdown Double Wins.
It's been a great ride.
I think I need some space. Space to just give myself some attention, you know? Just take some time to look inside myself and find my own inner media. Because lately I think I have been neglecting my inner media. I look at myself in your reflection and I can't remember what my inner media even looks like anymore. Was it pink? Was it s green hue? Mainstream? I don't know. All I see looking back is just alot of white static. All I hear is a constant "cshhhhhhhhhhhhh. cshhhhhhhhhh. cshhhhhhhhhh."
I don't even remember how my inner jingle sounds, it's been so long since I've heard it.
I just need this change.
We can't see each other anymore.
I'll give you a moment to absorb this into your Neilsen Ratings.
I need to just be without you right now. Just to get my inner media back on track, to feel good about how I spend my time, to remember what that damn inner jingle sounds like. To remember what it was like to actually create something besides a drool mark on a couch cushion.
No. Lipman has nothing to do with this. He doesn't even know that I'm writing this to you. Do not blame him. I know that there's some bad blood between you two, but he is not even involved on this decision. It's all me.
I will tell you that I do want to remain friends. That's probably going to be kind of hard at first, but I think that once we get used to the idea of not seeing each other every day it will get easier as time goes by. But let's stay in the present, shall we?
I'm sorry if this comes as a shock to you. I know that you'll be okay because you're a very powerful media and there are millions of people out there that think you're just the bomb.
I just can't do this anymore. I have to shut you off. Shut you off from my eyes, my heart, my life.
I hope you understand.
PS. Please tell VCR that we'll still be in touch. I hate it when VCRs are involved in such relationships as it's alway hard for them to understand why. Please let the VCR know that this is not its fault. Thank you.
That's what it's going to be for now. I have to make this break because it really has become a large burden in my life. A large, wonderful, edutainment of a burden.
This will not be easy for me. Your prayers and casseroles are welcomed.