Welcome to my stream-of-consciousness-rant-list-ponderance. I can’t think in clear, complete sentences because my brain has been ruined by, you guessed it, one too many episodes of American Horror Story. Here are some thoughts on Netflix.
One, it’s an intriguing culturalish thing. Everybody loves TV and now, all the sudden kind of, it has been released upon us in the easiest form yet. Hit the button get the zoned-out TV feeling. We’re all doomed.
Two, I think Netflix may have become the new napping. In class, if a teacher shows up late, it’s way more common to hear “imma bout to go watch some NETFLIX!” in regards to the unexpected free hour than the more time-tested “imma bout to go pass out right now.”
Three, I love stories. I think it’s one of the reasons I am/want to be a writer, why I love reading, all that crap—it all comes back to stories, and characters. And I don’t only like watching and reading stories, I like endlessly dissecting them. I like experiencing the same stories over and over until they become almost a part of me, until lines will blurt out of my mouth when something relevant happens, all on their own. Sometimes I find myself saying something, and I’ll think—wait. That’s not me, what is that? Oh right, Gilmore Girls. I’m weird.
Four, did I mention TV? Right in front of me? Like right now, as I’m typing this, I could just press a few buttons and see Michael Bluth’s face? In fact…no. I must focus.
Five. Friends is gonna be here soon (well, January). This may be bad for humanity’s productivity as a whole. I’m psyched.