Noiseless Chatter Archive

Here’s something some of you don’t know about me: a few years ago, I finished a novel. It was called Afterbirth: The Comedy of Miscarriage , and it was around seven years in the making. That was a long time to spend with one project, and, as you might expect, I was substantially invested in it. I still am. It was — and I guess is — the autobiography of a sperm. Our single-celled hero narrates the circumstances around him, the generations of couplings and false-starts and abandonments that culminate in his fertilizing off an egg…and eventual miscarriage. Needless to say he’s rather bitter, and much of the fun of writing this book had to do with the narrative perspective. What would have been, on its own, a story of a young man who does something foolish with a younger girl, suddenly became this massive, epic sprawl…simply because that moment, that night, that one bad decision — and the bad decisions that led up to it, and the bad decisions that followed from it — fo

Just a little something in celebration of my completing Detective Fiction. It’s currently in the hands of a small army of very capable proofreaders / critics / curmudgeons, and if all goes well I’ll be soliciting agents before very long. Download Music For Air Hostesses . It’s as good as reading the book. Or maybe better. …but hopefully not too much better. Anyway, grab it now. It might be gone when you wish you had it. DISC ONE: 1) I’ll Come Running — Brian Eno 2) I Can Help — Billy Swan 3) Reminiscing — Little River Band 4) Hold On, I’m Comin’ — Sam & Dave 5) Tighter, Tighter — Alive ‘N Kickin’ 6) Lemon Tree — Herb Alpert’s Tijuana Brass 7) I Second That Emotion — Smokey Robinson & The Miracles 8) The Same Love That Made Me Laugh — Bill Withers 9) Expressway to Your Heart — Soul Survivors 10) Tusk — Fleetwood Mac 11) Save It For Later — The Beat 12) Rubberband Man — The Spinners 13) Fire — The Pointer Sisters 14) Time Passes Slowly — Bob Dy

A man speeds through a red light in order to save somebody’s life. Another stops at a red light on his way to ruin someone else’s. One is doing the right thing. The other is doing a just thing. The distinction between “right” and “just” isn’t all that hazy; it’s the distinction of intention that matters. Or, at least, it should. But I’m speaking from a very unique perspective here: my own. In my world. With my experiences. My expectations. My hopes for everyone around me. In the world of Breaking Bad , the simple distinction between “right” and “just” seems to be driving the course of these final episodes. We know which is which; that’s not the issue. In a just outcome, Walter would go to prison. In a right outcome, his family would be spared from harm. They’re not even mutually exclusive. It sounds easy. But I’m glad it’s not, because it’s making for stellar television. On the side of the just we have Hank, obviously. He’s not worried about how Walt’s chi

So lest anyone fears this is turning into a Breaking Bad fan blog…I’ll write about another show. LOL JK. But I’ll write about someone else who is writing about another show: the guy over at Full House Reviewed . Go check it out. Because it’s incredibly funny. I used to love Full House when I was a kid. Looking back I have no idea why…even then there was far better stuff on television. But, whatever, I liked it. I thought Jesse was cool, I thought Joey was funny, and I even thought Kimmie Gibbler was attractive. (Was I really the only one??) I guess I was all kindsa fucked up as a kid. But rewatching this show now? Jesus. Some shows and films and songs age a bit poorly, and you might feel a bit silly for having enjoyed them unironically at some point, but man oh man was Full House just total and utter garbage. A lot of these ongoing review blogs end up reaching for jokes to make and downplaying something’s effectiveness, because they kind of have to. The sto

I can review this episode using only five words: “Now that’s more like it.” Or, wait. Maybe I’ll go with “I fucking love you, Marie.” Either of those I think would say it all…but, for old time’s sake, let’s pretend I have more to say BECAUSE OF COURSE I DO. My issue with “Blood Money” was mainly down to pacing…but really the problem was that I didn’t put enough trust in Vince Gilligan and his writing staff. I’m sure I can count on one hand how many times a perceived flaw in a television episode was actually down to me watching it completely and totally wrong but…I confess…that’s exactly what happened here. It’s not entirely my fault…Gilligan set the trap. I was just dumb enough to walk into it. The first half of season five ended with Hank finding Walt’s incriminating copy of Leaves of Grass , which seemed like it would set the mad scramble toward the finish line into motion. I expected, more or less, that the first episode of the back half would be the metaphorical sta

Just a nice bit of mirror imagery I noticed recently. Season One, Episode 3: “…And the Bag’s in the River.” Walt feeling around for the key that will set Krazy-8 free. He ends up killing him. Season Five, Episode 7: “Say My Name” Walt feeling around for the key that will set Mike Ehrmantraut free. He ends up killing him.

Breaking Bad begins (or continues…it’s debatable) sliding its pawns toward their final positions. “Blood Money” is the kick-off to this final batch of episodes, and it’s a strange one. So strange that I’m tempted to call it unsatisfying. Tempted, but I won’t, because Hank driving a long-overdue fist into Walter’s head would automatically make any installment of this show satisfying. I think it’s the pacing that throws me off in “Blood Money.” Certain episodes (most notably “Fly”) deliberate, and allow deliberation. They take a small moment or set of moments, and revolve an entire hour of television around them. Other episodes (perhaps most notably “Gliding Over All,” which ended the first batch of season 5 episodes) skip quickly onward, showing us escalation in place of meditation. And most episodes, of course, fall somewhere in between…but “Blood Money” is the first time I’ve felt that I was toward one end of that spectrum, only to learn that we were very much at

When critics want to convince their audience that a certain television show — or television event — rises above its peers, one word that gets tossed around is “cinematic.” I understand what they’re saying…or what they mean to say. They are suggesting that television, even good television, is one thing. But movies? Man…that’s a whole other ballpark, and here is a show that can run with the big boys. I guess I never really saw that distinction for myself. I don’t think of film as being an inherently “higher” artform than television. Both movies and TV shows have left me cold, and both movies and TV shows have moved me to tears. It’s all in the hands of the actors, and the writers, and the directors, and the composers, and everyone else involved. I wouldn’t say it’s a particular compliment to call a television show “cinematic.” Or, at least, it’s no more a compliment than it would be to call a great movie “so good it would make for a fantastic episode of television.”

Years ago I dated a girl who loved Animal Crossing. Her friends loved Animal Crossing too. That’s not surprising…it was a massively popular game. I had nothing against it; I’d just never played it. They booted it up one day and passed me a controller and helped me start a new character. I had no control over what my character would look like, and as soon as the game started I was responsible for paying off a home loan and making pointless deliveries to animal-people I didn’t know or care about. That was the game. Also I had to be extra nice all the time to the animal-people or they’d move out and then, I guess, I’d feel bad about it. It didn’t click with me. I got nothing out of it. Again, it was a hugely popular game so I figured I just wasn’t cut out for it. There was no appeal. As Mario I could rescue a princess and as Link I could swordfight and as Olimar I could command armies…but Animal Crossing just gave me a dead-end job in a virtual town and that didn

I met my old lover on the street last night. She seemed so glad to see me. I just smiled. And we talked about some old times, and we drank ourselves some beers. Still crazy after all these years. Oh, still crazy. After all these years. I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialize. I seem to lean on old, familiar ways. And I ain’t no fool for love songs that whisper in my ears. Still crazy after all these years. Four in the morning. Crapped out. Yawning. Longing my life away. I’ll never worry. Why should I? It’s all gonna fade. Now I sit by my window and I watch the cars. I fear I’ll do some damage one fine day. But I would not be convicted by a jury of my peers. Still crazy after all these years. Oh, still crazy. Still crazy… …still crazy after all these years.

I’ve been gone for a while. In a few senses of that word. Things change. Things end. Cities burn to the ground. Sometimes you look down afterward and find that the match was in your own hand. The comedy and the tragedy end the same way. And, of course, my attention hasn’t been on this blog. I even forgot to schedule a Friday Musical Interlude for yesterday, meaning the first installment I’ve ever missed came right after “The Music Never Stopped.” Ha ha. But I’m not done here. I apologize for the delay. More will come, and probably very soon. I’m thinking of reviewing all of the final Breaking Bad episodes if you’re interested…if only because this last batch has the potential to be pretty incredible, and it’ll be nice to chart the endgame of a show that’s glad to go out in its prime. Yeah. We’ll see. I intend to finish my manuscript. I intend to do a whole lotta work on a project I’ve yet to announce. I intend to throw myself into my job. I intend to get my