June 25, 2013
Part of a series on Slate called: "Where Do I Start With?"
(I've been meaning to get into the Magnetic Fields)
Doubling and disappointment have been the twin themes of Mad Men this year. From the preseason poster to this past Sunday's penultimate hour, Don Draper has been surrounded by doppelgängers, mocking shadows that flit around him the way ghosts teased and enveloped Dante on his long walk to hell. (At least our Don has an elevator in his building to help speed his descent.) Bob Benson is a younger, hungrier striver. Ted Chaough a nicer, happier competitor ensconced directly across the hall like a sunny reflection. And Sally Draper, once her father's closest emotional ally, has fallen down a dynastic rabbit hole of his own making: like him, she saw something she shouldn't through a doorway, her only inheritance a familiar sadness and chilly remove. Even Don's wife has vanished, or at least the supportive, office-bantering version of her he preferred. Now he's living with an actress who spends her days portraying split-personality twins and Frenching square-jawed fakers other than the one she's married to.
I want you to be informed. Even if you don’t currently identify as a gamer, the gaming industry wants to change your life from right inside your living room. I just got back from the Electronic Entertainment Expo. At first, I was going to write about the cool games I saw, but something bigger is happening. The way we’re all going to consume entertainment is about to change.
What am I looking for? That question has stuck with me now for months. I’ve had time to ponder, and I think my answer would remain the same. While I may still be looking for someone to give shelter to my wandering heart, it feels as if my heart has split into infinite pieces. And each of these pieces has a home with a friend I’ve made or a view I’ve loved. When I leave Cartagena, a piece of my heart will stay here and call it home, chilling out on the balcony with a bottle of wine and trying not to bleed all over the place. At the risk of overextending my metaphor, I know I will always have a home here since I will have left behind a piece of my heart, beating in time with the waves.
This was posted on my neighbor's door.
I don't know my neighbors at all.
More accurately, I've never seen their faces and I don't know their names. But I know a few things about them.
They have a small dog. He is not well trained. He barks constantly at the slightest provocation.
I know they're in some kind of "loving" relationship. A loud at inappropriate times kind of relationship.
I know they smoke. I've seen the evidence on the back patio.
And I know they have shouting matches with other neighbors. This last item is the one that most interests me. When they were on their patio late at night, with their audibly offensive canine, they seemed to feel no remorse or shame. They were laughing and carousing, unconcerned about their neighbors. The balcony above, unreasonably wanting to sleep at 12:18 am, made the following argument to the 24-Hour-Party-People:
"Hey! Shut UP!"
Which was met with an inquiry as to why that was a smart course of action. To which Angry Balcony Neighbor replied:
"Because you're not the only people that live here!"
Which was met with stunned silence, as if this was a revelation to the 24-Hour-Party-People.
The idea of knowing my neighbors is wonderful.
The reality of knowing them is probably hell.
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