Goodbye Alex Chilton

For my second post, I wanted to say hello to anybody that would be reading this, maybe let others learn more about my thought process (whatever that is). However, I just found out that Alex Chilton died, and there's no way I can go on without at least expressing something, regardless of how relevant it is. Besides, maybe you'll learn about me somehow through this ramble fest.

Finding a Home on the Island

Lost has been perhaps the only material constant that I’ve had in my adult life. As the final season begins, I look back not only on the show and its multiple arcs (and realities, apparently), but also upon where I’ve gone through this show. I’m not going to comment on these characters or not, as this is a little more personal than that, and those are beyond my control. Indeed, the visceral thrill of watching this show wouldn’t be the same if I had any sort of say over the characters (though I would never have introduced Nikki and Paolo); it would not be as high of a quality if I, a nonprofessional writer at this moment, chose to direct the flow of a multi-million dollar franchise to its rightful conclusion. Rather, I would prefer to reflect on the events in my life and how they have coincided with this show.