Friday, March 8, 2013

My Netflix, Myself

A long time ago, in a galaxy far away - 

Or really about a decade ago, in a city where the president lives, I was living in a neighborhood that was "up and coming".  My particular pad was a basement apartment of a townhouse that was built in 1909.  It was the first time I lived completely on my own and I loved it.  There was a church on one end of the block and a guy who stood at the other end all hours of the day and night.  He always called out "Hey Snowflake!" and waved when I walked by.  The apartment itself was spacious for the price, but never got above 65 degrees (awesome in the summer, I huddled with my cats for warmth in the winter), and was prone to flooding.  It rains a lot in DC.  I just stopped putting things on the lowest shelf of my bookcases and kept my shoes at the top of my closet.    

It was equally glorious and awful.  Freedom!  No heat!  

The thing about up and coming neighborhoods is that they lack certain amenities, like grocery stores - but who needs food when your in your early twenties living in a city with excellent public transportation and working a job that netted you access to any concert?  I don't remember ever grocery shopping in those days, but I do remember lamenting the fact that there was no blockbuster around to rent movies from.  I was poor, so cable was out of the question.  As a fledgeling culture vulture with no money, my only cache was to be absolutely of the moment about everything and have an opinion - the snarkier and more off the cuff, the better.  You've been there, we all have.  How was I supposed to converse about the madness of Alejandro Jodorowsky films if I couldn't see them?

And then I found out about Netflix.  Of course it's old news now, but imagine at the time how revolutionary it was - DVDs by mail?  Inconceivable!  I signed up and never looked back.  (I still have no idea what Fando y Lis is about, but the image of people dancing among rubble while a gentleman plays a burning piano is seared into my brainpan.)

Time continues the relentless forward march; somewhere along the way it seemed unnecessary to try to keep up with pop culture.  And I still don't have cable.  In spite of this, I do seem to know an extraordinary amount about Klan Kardashian.  

Anyway, I just cancelled my subscription.  10 years.  It's actually something I've been meaning to do for about 6 months because as someone who doesn't own a television, I watch a ton of TV.  I'm pretty sure I will be able to fill the void in my life with something equally inane.  And $8 is coffee and a muffin down under.  That's not a euphemism, you dirty minded bastards.  

And now if you'll please excuse me while I fall down the rabbit hole of nostalgia, reminiscing the fevered days of my misspent youth.


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