Farewell My Love

It’s been a sad couple of weeks for me.

Strangely disconnected and alone. Nowhere to turn. So unsure what to do. And come fall….or God! I dare not even think about winter…. I just don’t know what I’m going to do –

until Alias starts.

I have one TV show left. One. Period. That’s it. And even that may not be enough to combat the disconnectedness I feel with my television. It is the most unhappiest of breakups, me and my TV. I have begun to not just dislike it, but also ignore it. Forgotten, it sits untouched or un-remoted(?) several days out of the week. Maybe I’ll watch the Today show. Mmmmm….maybe not - especially if Katie has one of her very tepid and oh-so annoying interviews.

I have finally reached a point where it’s not that there’s nothing on but I’ll still bitch and moan and sit there – I simply don’t turn it on. Or it’s set on PBS, never waivering….well, maybe for Beastmaster reruns every now and then.

It’s been a very disappointing transition for me - this learning to despise television. I could have never conceived such a thing possible. I’m still lukewarm in terms of film – I do hold out some hope for that. But the Sony-MGM combo has me worried.

Every year the new season of TV would start and every night would have a favorite – or at least something I could tolerate. These past two to three years, nothing. And then the last vestiges of programming that I could call my own called it quits. Bye Anya…...bye Samantha…..bye…oh I must just stop. The goodbyes could go on forever.

TV happiness eludes me.

I didn’t get cable when I moved into my new place. Something about paying for programming that has commercials annoys me. And although Lifetime, Television for women is like crack rock to me, I can’t justify the expense. Even for the sake of entertainment.

Good television should be free and sometimes entertaining. That’s my belief. So if the TV collects dust, so be it. I don’t even own a DVD player – I just use my old Mac display. Maybe I’ll dust off the VCR and the TV for company – folks who come over to watch Faster Pussy Cat, Kill Kill or some gay porn…. Ya know, good times with friends.

But my relationship with TV is being tethered to Charlie Rose, Tavis Smiley and just a few others. Tim Russert, if I haven’t been out Saturday night.

It’s a real sad, sad thing for me. I cannot ever bring myself to look at the fall lineup. The disappointment would be overwhelming.

I guess there’s books. Or exercise. Or art. Or thinking. I dunno. It’s just too much – this thinking about what I could be doing with my time instead.

I dunno if this is just growing up. Maybe getting old? Or is it losing touch?

Maybe all of the above. I think about my mammaw (my Mom’s mom) who didn’t watch University of Kentucky ballgames on the TV. She lay on her bed – eyes closed – and listened to the excited roars of the crowd as Caywood Ledford detailed the play by play. There in her bedroom where she slept for more than 90 years, she would extinguish the lights and would imagine what was going on.

Doesn’t that sound all noble?

Well my mammaw was cheap. Radios used less electricity. She never got indoor plumbing, even though she could afford it. Why pay to poop?

I can understand frugality but I don’t want to have to imagine things, dammit!!!!! Can’t I just mindlessly sit here – distracted from the greater world view while cute girls drink martinis or fight crime or maybe even do both?

* sigh *

This is just grief. I’m gonna go read something or draw something or watch some porn – keep the old appliance from getting too rusty.

I have the tiniest glimmers of hope that my cathode ray lover will return.