I watch a lot of Television. Tons. Good, bad, you name it. I’m a firm believer (not Blieber) of the fact you can learn much more from different aspects of art, then people around you. Friends, foes, whatever they might be, what do they give us exactly, than occasional drinking & bitching buddies? Sometimes an exceptional individual enters your proximity, yes, but usually life is full of fucks that drain your energy. And I rather spend time with bad TV, then bad people. Bad TV you just turn off. Bad people you….well you absolutely can turn those off too.
I view life through things I see or read, there’s just something magical in the fact someone poured their life, their experience, their hurt into a song, book or a script that came to you to learn from it. To get entertained and to take something from it. I love thinking about that exchange of life through the arts, it’s what is all about. How amazing do you feel when you hear a song saying things you experienced yourself; when it hits you right into the emotion and takes you to the day you felt it? I say it again; that is the only essence of life we have at the end, even among people you might hate – we all can relate to each other. We all go through same exact things.
I moved to California in 2007, after living in NYC for 12 years. People often ask me why I would do such a thing, usually those who transcend the coolness of what they think New York is; onto themselves. “NY is so badass, I love NY, it’s sooooo me, it’s like I was born there” is the convo that is the epitome of direct opposite; the royal un-coolness. When I hear that touristy bleat, I walk to the opposite direction. Their natural born newyorkness is just way too cool for me. It’s blinding.
So my un-coolness took me to California. All the uncool people go there. After years and years of subways and cabs, I just wanted to jump into my car and drive down palm trees and Sunset. Be stuck on Mulholland. Don’t have the specific explanation, I just felt that way. I took my NY attitude (see, not that uncool) with me and frequently flirted with that famous NY-LA love-hate relationship that’s as unavoidable as it gets. I minded lots of things, but I still loved it more than I disliked it. There’s some goodness of life you can achieve in a place so beautiful, regardless of famed fakeness and superficiality, and if you have couple of good friends around you (preferably from New York, but real ones, not the touristy ones), it’s pretty close to perfect.
I’m not big on destinies, but I do believe you meet someone when you have to learn shit, you read a book when you absolutely have to take something from it, you hear a song when you’re loosing it, and you watch a show or film in the exact time in your life when you need to. When there’s something in the plot you need to see, learn, take from it. You don’t know what exactly when you start, but you’ll know by the end of it.
Don’t you love that about TV? When you just start watching the show and you’re not realizing anything at that point, just getting into the plot, and you don’t even know what it’ll mean to you by the time you reach Second,Third season? And by the time you do, you’re so totally into it you wish you were that concentrated in the beginning, and it makes you want to start watching again, with this newly aware state of mind? Isn’t it the same with relationships?! We’re never aware in the beginning, when it’s best, and we spend the rest of the union trying to chase that high, trying to relive it?
That’s the story of Californication & me. I was putting it off for so long, as if I knew it’s going to monumentally matter. The show came out couple of months after my bicoastal skip. I didn’t watch it straight away. What I was trying to convince myself its a lame story of a New York writer transfucked to Los Angeles, who hates, screws & pisses everyone and everything, all while drinking, smoking & bitching through Venice in sole purpose of showing the world this caricature of what they think Los Angeles is, and be the type of show that’s basically Sex & the City for fist-pumping men-children around the globe.
It didn’t work.
Sometimes, things are so great you can not properly describe them. As if you will harm or disadvantage them with your words. The show gives me so much pleasure with their words, to be up to the task is in order. The timing? The exact time you see, read, watch something? The RIGHT time. It’s all about the readiness, Shakespeare said. Readiness is life altering. I watched Californication at the exact time if was in a pit thinking about men. The way they are, how they do things, and mostly why they’re all one sided little bitches that can only be one thing. Smart. Or artistic. Or badass. Or successful. Or funny and interesting. Or have an amazing bodies and sexual drive that goes with it. But never be all of that. At most you’ll find the guy with two of those traits in one body. All while hypocritically looking for women that are everything!
Women are being pressured by men, society, media; basically on everyday bases; if you want to be desirable and keep your man, you have to be everything. Do everything. What’s that played out line that makes me vomit – a lady, a homemaker and the whore all in one, how’s that go again…..? Platitude of all platitudes. I cringe. Be all that to keep a man! To make sure he never leaves you. All while that man you do it all for, well, he’s allowed to be almost nothing! Don’t you dare demand him being all that, too.
Californication, and the god damn character they made. The man. Hank. Hank Moody. It’s like they wanted to create this mind fuck of a character that is so flawed that the caricatural approach of him and his flaws show directly the opposite. Just how epicly smart are the writers of that show; the way they fool us, the way they cheat us by shoving explicit sex down our throats with sole purpose of providing the excellent backdrop to the satire that is Hank Moody and create the base for all the alpha male jokes that made the show occupy the cult status it enjoys, all with really one purpose in mind – to show us the most heartwarming, raw, realistic love story on Television today.
Let me just start by telling you no one gets that much sex in Hollywood unless you’re Leo Di Caprio or the same level. Women don’t trow themselves at writers, even if they’re built as awesomely as David Duchovny. Or IF they ARE David Duchovny. As I said, backdrop. But what’s amazing about this character – is its poignancy. Men are so one-sided. The complexity of Hank Moody is what made this series “a cult-hit show”. Here comes this guy who declares to his agent while jogging down Venice boardwalk – “the gods have seen fit to give me another shot with the soul-mate, I’ve got to be ready for her; mentally, physically, sexually.” And basically, that’s the core of him through out the series. He’s good at everything. He wants to BE everything.
I don’t know about you, but men make me monumentally tired. They are so sexual & passionate you need to grasp for air, but there’s absolutely nothing he says that can remotely keep you ticking. There’s guys who are so intelligent, so quick on the tongue they open the whole new world for you; but sexually……nothing. There’s guys with such artistic depths, so interesting, different; but they have absolutely no clue how to snap out of it when needed and create an adult fucking life. I’m way over it. Hell, men don’t even know how to fight no more, they are so retarded when they’re trying to talk back, verbally, they resemble the kid in the fucking sand box. How about you fight me with calling me up on shit intelligently?! Or be sarcastically funny, at least! What can beat the situation when Hank’s woman wants go to therapy and is trying to make him see a psychiatrist, and he says – “I don’t want to go to a fucking shrink, I’m a writer, I don’t give that shit away like that!” And we can go on and on and on about how slick, smart, funny, sexual and built like a motherfucker he is, and you will tell me the following – bitch, are you serious, this is just the fucking TV character, are you high?! What you’ve been smoking woman, it’s made up, it’s not possible!
You’re right. Hank Moody is a character, he’s reading the script. He’s not real. He’s fed those lines by writers. Hank is not David Duchovny. He’s an actor. Hank is made up. He’s probably just a fucked up actor like everyone else.
Agreed. Let’s review that.
David Duchovny, an actor, went to COLLEGIATE prep; graduated from PRINCETON with B.A. In English Literature, where he played varsity college basketball; he received the Master of Arts in English Literature from YALE, and stopped at the thesis away from Doctorate. He is a writer, actor and director. He runs Triathlons, and does Olympic workouts. And his body at 52 in more ripped than most 20 year olds. The creator of X-Files says he’s the most well-read man he ever met. Also that he came out of the womb asking for the basketball & the volume of Nietzsche. Well there’s that sex addiction thing and all, so let’s allow the guy one flaw.
Is it a flaw?
I can’t decide.
Exchange of arts / exchange of life, remember? Be greedy bitches, bitches. Ask for ALL.
As for Hank? Well, he only has one thing to say to you:
Hank just fucking hates you all.