Warning: naughty words ahead
The conclusion of the HBO show Deadwood returns to television on Friday, May 31st and I for one am super excited about it. My wife might be less so. The show ended without concluding back in 2006 after three great seasons and to prepare myself for this beautiful return I am binge-watching all three seasons as much as I humanly can.
I am one season down and my wife probably question the amount of ‘cocksuckers’ and ‘fuckers’ that drips from the tongue of the characters, but I hooked. Hooked not because of the foul language and gratuitous violence but because the characters are so rich and so well written that they are almost real. The town of Deadwood has become real, and I only hope that while teaching I don’t accidentally let slip a cocksucker or two.
I can’t say this about many televisions shows and I can’t say it about writers. I have a handful of great authors that I hold very close to my heart and the rest I let live in the wilderness.
I am writing about this beads I am amazed how one mind can dream something up, and another mind, mine can see it, and such a deep, strange connection is made between two people who have never and shall never meet.
Yesterday I wrote about stories and the stories we tell ourselves and about ourselves. This is further proof how powerful stories are. Stories are so rich and it is what we long for.
I’m not sure why that is. Perhaps we can be through story what we cannot be in real life, or perhaps the stories we love so much can transform us and help us become who we want to be. Not cocksuckers of course, but people of deep, rich character. People worth knowing. Characters worth exploring.
And if you don’t like it, as Calamity Jane so eloquently puts it, you can go and fuck yourself.
Photo credit: https://unsplash.com/@sarahla
