Good television, bad television, and my infernal internal jukebox
Normally being stuck with the five terrestrial TV channels, I'm like a kid in a sweet-shop when I'm staying round my girlfriends' parents' satellite-connected abode. Being a man of very little taste, there's so much cheap guff out there to perfectly suit those beer-in-hand telly evenings. That, and David Blaine, constantly moaning under his blanket in his box (I dread to think...)
And so, when the spotlight of your random channel-flicking glances across a televisual gem, it's like stumbling across a wifi-enabled Burger King whilst starving and lost in the Sahara desert with only your laptop for company.
That happened late last night on BBC4, when I rediscovered my only-seen-twice-before-but-still-my-second-favourite-American-comedy (probably) Curb Your Enthusiasm (the one written, about and starring Seinfeld-creator Larry David at his most painfully self-deprecating). True genius, and up there with that other canned-laughter-free-US-comedy-drama-classic, The Larry Sanders Show.
These things kill me. They may not be machine-gunning gags at the viewer, but they draw you right in, they make you think and feel, they're basically real, and all the more effective for it.
Also far-too compelling viewing is music television. Very bad for me mentally. Surfing from station to station, rock-caracatures The Darkness' "I Believe In A Thing Called Love" seemed to be on permanently on one channel or another. A pretty funny video, fair enough, but its trashed my internal jukebox.
I've been fairly unwell the last couple of days (ahhh), which has resulted in some very disturbed sleep, and whenever I'd wake up, I'd have all this stadium-heavy-rock falsetto rattling around my skull. Worse, its leading my internal jukebox on to other long-lost trash metal anthems (current soundtrack: Zodiac Mindwarp And The Love Reaction's Prime-Mover - "Well I love TV and I love T Rex, I can see through your skirt I've got X-ray specs".
Not what I need. Especially painful when you consider that Zodiac was a cynical facsimile of myself in the hey-days of VSX...
Oh God, incoming is Tigertailz's Lovebomb ("You're not a lady your a love-bomb baby, love-bomb baby come and blow me away...")
Shouldn't I be using my spare mental clock cycles for something more worthwhile than all this?