love (netflix)

something tells me this display of emotional misery is not better than the reality bullshit tv series that our distinct tastes forbid us to watch (think: bauer sucht frau, the real housewives, etc); but the show takes too long to develop. this is not a review though, because i don’t care about my own opinion or yours.

i’m just thinking that it’s not dramatic enough, because life isn’t dramatic enough. addiction isn’t this dramatic, it’s only dramatic when it ends (one way or another). and being an asshole isn’t dramatic either, and being lonely/alone isn’t. you know what’s dramatic? when people start trying to deal with it together, because that’s when all of the internal drama gets airtime, i.e. that’s when all the alleged drama is told by someone to someone. and then, eventually, WE get to watch it, thinking: oh yeah, this is how it’s gotta be, i tell you my story and you tell me yours, and suddenly the narrative we give our shitty lives becomes real and we feel “right at home” with it.

the point is: once it’s aired (as a tv series on netflix) it really seems mundane. nothing screams “white people champaign problems” like another tv show about people who are trying to settle. yes, i can relate. thank god i can relate to being lonely and poor and possibly an addict, it means i really don’t have much worse problems and my death will be quick and stubborn, just like my shitty life which i enjoy A LOT more WITHOUT structured meaning or togetherness, because, you know what, it’s just not that dramatic and won’t ever be. i need pornographic fiction like “love” to keep me believing that, tho.

needless to say, i love the show

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