Dream week ends are meant to mix it up, re-center, and find the true path again amidst the work-a-world daily grind that comes to prevail. My Dream week end was only last Sat-Sun and it came time to hit the sordid stories of the tele: murder, mayhem, atrocity, as tho that is my re-centering. So, the little buggers are gone. I took the cable box in this morning. Ended it all last night on Paris Je T’aime on On Demand (quel surprise). What a find for a beau souvenir. Despite the crowning gem, it was addiction. Like addiction, little gems kept me hooked. But, to keep watching was to crush my hopes and dreams. Oh, a little story at the end of the day seems fine. But, zonking out on my chair more than once it became 3am. And what did I have to show? A painting? A short story? Anything more than that bizarre vicarious TV crush on the men from Numb3rs? Nope. I’ve seen every episode of Sex and the City. That job is done. Can’t find any more free Californication. So, sanity said make room for your own storytelling. Why make it sit in the back seat? The sheer volume of commercials was the tipping point. Au revoir soccer le foot les samedi matins. Au revoir ChezMaupassant. Bon jour choc de culture sans TV.