Walking Dead Finale & Taco Leg, Karoshi, Lotus Fucker at Wasted Dream

Sunday, December 5th...

Feeling assaulted by the wind and starving, I entered Chipotle with Pat Vogel and Rob Santucci. The fast food restaurant in DC overflowed with people and the line depressed me. I was so cold that I stuttered as I thought about the wind and made no sense as I talked. Rob gave me an odd look, hoping that I would begin finishing my sentences with words that made sense.

From the Chipotle, we went to our friend Dan's house. His basement, when he hosts shows, is also known as Wasted Dream. Anyway, he offered not only to have Taco Leg from Australia play in his basement, but also to drive them around on their East Coast tour for a week. Taking him up on his offer, they seemed friendly and comfortable as they set up their merchandise on top of Dan's washer and dryer.

I enjoyed seeing Lotus Fucker. Dan sang their songs with intensity. I comfortably watched from his basement stairs as I ate my Chipotle. Pat's uneaten burrito sat in a bag on top of one of the amps as he played his guitar. The line at Chipotle made us a little late. (OK - we waited too long to hit the Chipotle...)

I didn't get into Taco Leg. They are a three-piece, melodic punk band who tend to play three-chord songs. I got bored listening to them. I like pop punk. I don't need every band to hit notes at a million miles a minute. I love singing along with Screeching Weasel, Jawbreaker and The Descendents. So much fun. Taco Leg, though, unlike those other bands, played meandering pop songs.

Pat and I left the show promptly to catch the season finale of Walking Dead. I had made vegan zombie-finger cookies to share, which were finger-shaped, shortbread cookies with raspberry jam instead of blood and almonds wiped with maple syrup instead of fingernails. Several friends gathered in Pat's living room and we settled in for the show.

Walking Dead is a television show based on a comic book series. The premiere's opening sequence reminded me of the opening of 28 Days Later, which both start off with a person waking up in a hospital unaware that a virus has transformed a good chunk of the population into aggressive, flesh-eating zombies. The acting in the Walking Dead is decent and some character development occurs. The caste may be a little large, but maybe the zombies will whittle down the numbers in future episodes.

Red Tree

I just finished reading The Red Tree by Caitlin Kiernin, which is a creepy, tension-filled, and thought-provoking book.

I remember reading a short poem that ends: "Love doesn't exist/Does it?" The poet sounds cynical throughout the poem, jaded and uninterested, but the question at the end signals that she may still hope for love, despite her protests. In The Red Tree, the main character, Sarah Crowe is a respected and experienced writer, who is emotionally vulnerable and seeking solitude after separating from her partner. Sarah seems like a pragmatic woman who early on refers to those who talk of ghosts as "crackpots," but, in the back of her mind, recalls the memory of a surreal encounter in a mud pond in Alabama when she was a teenager. Then, Sarah confronts a crescendo of signs of the supernatural. As Sarah experiences things she fails to explain logically and rationally, her willingness to say that the supernatural doesn't exist, like the author of the poem about love, gives way to a doubtful and frustrated questioning: does it?

Sarah initially isolates herself in a farmhouse in Rhode Island, but, then, another tenant named Constance rents the attic. In a trip into town, Constance tells Sarah about a walk along the cliffs by the ocean, when Constance saw a woman dressed like a Goth in a new, antique-styled dress. Constance says the woman pulled a gun on herself, resting it against her own head. Constance responded by telling the woman that she didn't need a gun, because the fall alone from the cliffs would kill her. The woman lowered the gun and, then, completely vanished. Constance researched town history and found the story of a woman who told the mirror of her story - the woman was about to commit suicide; described Constance; heard the warning; and saw Constance disappear. According to the history book, because of the interaction with Constance, the woman reassessed her decision to die and went home.

Constance theorizes to Sarah that maybe ghosts aren't images of the dead, but that time collapses for a moment so we meet briefly with people who are otherwise from the past or future. Constance suggests that somehow strong emotions can rupture time. Sarah gets annoyed, retorting that it's funny how emotions would bring one person a savior through time but ignore another person's need. Sarah disagrees with Constance by turning to the same argument that people use in contesting the idea of destiny: it's too unfair for some force to intentionally condemn some and save others. Constance's sea cliff story is a side note within the main plot, but an interesting take on how to define a ghost.

Plus, Constance's story is another step for Sarah as Sarah moves away from just making jokes about the supernatural and begins reading omens. Layers of stories about and hints of the supernatural collect to form the context in which Sarah finally feels powerless, merely a chain-smoking, journal-writing game piece waiting for the Red Tree to checkmate her.

I'm not going to write anymore, because I don't want to spoil the book. So, read it.

All About Perceptions - Supernatural, Season 5

Spoiler and Over Analysis of a Fictional T.V. Show. I'm currently watching Season 5 of Supernatural. In the first season of the show, the character of Sam seems kindhearted, vulnerable, and compassionate. The actor, Jared Padalecki, has both an expressive face and eyes that convey care and other emotions without dialogue. Dean, Sam's brother and co-fighter-against-evil on the show, jokes about the power of Sam's "puppy dog" eyes to melt intractable hearts on several occasions. Sam seems to show genuine concern for the victims of the demons and supernatural villains that he and his brother hunt.

Throughout the first season, Meredith, Pat (I think) and I claimed Sam as our favorite character. Meredith and Dave jetted through seasons of the show. After watching Season 5, Meredith told me that Sam seems caring on the surface, but he's actually overcompensating for the evil within him. When I initially heard Meredith's opinion, I felt like she was reading a great deal into the demon blood angle. (Long explanation. If you watch the show, you understand. If you don't watch the show, the demon blood plot thread is too much of a tangent for me to explore right now.) Then, I saw the episode in the fifth season in which Dean goes forward in time.

The Apocalypse is underway. Dean arrives in a future in which human survivalists group precariously together in makeshift encampments, in ever decreasing numbers; demons triumph; a virus has turned huge numbers of people into zombie-like creatures; and future Dean is a hardened, callous jerk. Satan needs to possess a body to walk the Earth and specifically has sought Sam's body as the most suitable vessel. Bound to respect free will, Satan can only take over Sam's body with Sam's assent. In this future world, Sam and Dean were estranged for a number of years. Sam felt alone and full of self-loathing. In a moment of weakness, he permitted Satan to possess him. After Dean experiences this future, he returns to the present and decides that he must reconcile with Sam. Dean believes he can change the future because of his faith in his bond with Sam and in human goodness. He also looks at the angels as self-interested and arbitrary. Dean refuses to be the pawn of the angels and to allow the Archangel Michael to possess him in the name of countering Satan. OK - convoluted synopsis, but it gets me to my point.

In that future-jumping episode, you see Satan in Sam's body for 10 minutes or so. Satan speaks in serene tones, smiles sweetly, and gives gentle looks. It's creepy. And the front of kindness is presented by Satan from Sam's body. The mannerisms of Satan were Sam's mannerisms. After watching that episode, my view of Sam shifted subconsciously. I didn't expect the shift, but, as I watched the next couple of episodes, I felt less comfortable with Sam. I now see Sam's concern and kindness as being more of a superficial facade, as the camouflage hiding the anger and evil that Sam is fighting to contain. I now look at Sam as a wild card. In one episode, after 4 full seasons, Supernatural altered Sam from an innocent, kid brother to a volatile, pained man.

Supernatural

The title of the television series is simple and to the point: Supernatural. Over the last month, I've sat in dimly lit rooms (sorry, I understand it's a cliche) and watched Season One of the show. For the first time, our house was on the same episode. Last night, Pat came over with the rest of my housemates and we watched the first three episodes of Season Two.

Jump, shift, catch my breath - I confess to tensing up and allowing the show to surprise me. One of its greatest strengths is its main characters, Sam and Dean Winchester. They are brothers hoping broadly to conquer evil, town by town, and narrowly to avenge the death of their mother and Sam's girlfriend, who both fell victim to the same demon. They also seek the approval of their absentee, demon-hunting father, who purposefully evades them because he perceives his tenderness for them as a weakness on the supernatural battlefield.

Sam and Dean gain depth as the season progresses. Plus, the ghosts and evil they face seem to motivate their personal introspection and growth: what exactly do they hope to accomplish? They are not only charismatic, but able to empathize with the tragedy in other people's lives. In dealing with loss and pain, they still believe in good. Despite the demons and vampires, the story still contains normal moments, jokes about musical taste and girls. You begin to feel like you connect somehow with Sam or Dean or both. So, during an episode, as you're creeped out by a vengeful, child ghost with barber shears, you wonder not only how Sam will escape death, but also how he's dealing with the loss of his girlfriend, friends, and school. Sam and Dean never have a complete victory since you can bet your bottom dollar that the evil will come out tomorrow.

Each episode from the first season invites you into a horror story. The series starts off giving urban legends a twist. Some junior high girls are playing truth or dare at a slumber party. One of them accepts a dare to say Bloody Mary three times into a mirror. What could happen? Cut to a funeral. Scene change. A young, blonde, sorority girl stiffly stares into a mirror and sees her image shake its head in reproach. Bloody Mary crawls out of the mirror in dark clothing that matches her dark intent. Bloody Mary attacks in vengeance, judging her victims harshly based on their feelings of guilt rather than their intent to hurt anyone. Since the old saying goes that a person's spirit shines in his/her eyes, Bloody Mary claws her victim's eyes out. Understanding the value of leaving some things to the imagination, the clawing happens off screen.

Anyway, I watched the episodes right before bed. Sometimes, I have some pretty intense nightmares and, sometimes, sleep just does not come to bed. I end up laying there meditating in that frayed state of wired exhaustion. Do more people have vivid, complicated nightmares since the advent of mysterious, surreal, or graphic horror stories on screen? Last night, though, I fell quickly asleep and dreamed about magical, flying bunnies competing with an Abraham Lincoln look-alike in building houses by a river. For now, Supernatural is staying out of my dreams.