Last year was the year I fell in love with television. I was always a casual television watcher. My brothers and I would always fight to stay up late and watch Letterman. In college I subsisted mainly on late-night Seinfeld reruns and Space Ghost Coast to Coast, and after college, of course, I went through the obligatory Buffy thing like all good geeks did. With a few exceptions (cartoons, Jon Stewart), I haven’t been much into television until 2005.
I am not, I hope you realize by now, a snob. I just didn’t watch much tv.
What brought me back? Lost. I caught it in reruns after the regular season ran, and then I rushed out to buy the first season on DVD to plug in some holes (the reruns skipped a few episodes over the summer) to be prepared for the beginning of the second season. I love the masterful manipulation of the show, the way the plot tramps on without mercy, the deep insight into the histories of the characters, and of course the obsessive fandom shared among friends, coworkers, and all those people out there on the Web.
And Lost opened the door, along with recommendations from friends, shows like Veronica Mars, which sort of carries the torch of Buffy on UPN, and Alias, which should be no surprise, because it shares the same creator as Lost. Also, while I still have no patience for sitcoms, I have discovered Scrubs, and think that there’s nothing funnier in the universe than a good episode of Scrubs.
Lost is back tonight after a hiatus. I can’t wait.
(The title of this post comes from a Robyn Hitchcock song, from his latest album, Spooked)