I have a new love in my life and its name is Twin Peaks. Have you guys ever watched the show? It’s so weird. I’m only in the beginning, but every other scene has this undertow of strangeness that pulls you in deep. It’s everything I expected from the man who wrote Catching the Big Fish, an odd little book on David Lynch’s 32 years of practicing transcendental meditation.
I was going to watch it sparingly, an episode a week, but then the music crept into my head when running. I think about watching it the way you think about that first glass of wine after a long trip. From the first establishing shots of the mountains covered in Douglas firs to the Agent Dale Cooper’s earnest appreciation of good coffee and cherry pie, the show is so perfectly stylized I almost can’t stand it. When I hit play in the middle of the night it feels like I’m doing something wrong I like it so much.
It must be dopamine that floods my head when it starts, or simply the knowledge that I’m going to enjoy the next 45 minutes of my life immensely. I don’t usually get this excited about television shows. That’s not true. There was Firefly, Buffy, Roswell and Veronica Mars, but it’s been a while. As entertaining as today’s bad-people-doing-bad-things shows are, they’re all too cool for the weird melodramatic moments and wacko special effects that’s making Twin Peaks so incredibly satisfying. So much better than sleeping.
I get a little sleepless sometimes. Running usually helps for obvious reasons of tiring the body out, but every now and then it’s like I forget how to sleep. These bouts often fade and the sleepwalking begins, which really used to freak my boyfriend out. Things should be back to normal in a few days, but for now I’m not really minding my late nights since I’m lucky enough to work from home.
If I can’t have my own dream sequences, I’m happy to lie on the couch watching David Lynch’s. But I wouldn’t prescribe Twin Peaks for sleepless runners. These late night thrills make me feel like a zombie during the day. Running is an interesting challenge. The muscles know what I want them to do, but coordination doesn’t stay. Even though the cold keeps snapping at my attention, it’s hard to focus so the run feels fragmented. I get to the end not quite sure which paths I took. I probably look like a lush weaving into the bike path, but that’s okay. In a few days I’ll remember how to sleep through the night. For now, I have sunshiny Special Agent Dale Cooper and a murder mystery to solve.