Living in hope

I should have been cleaning and clearing and decluttering this week, but instead I’ve been parked on the couch mainlining season six of Californication.

I bought it on Monday after a friend texted to say he’d spotted it in the new-release section at JB HiFi. I’ve been haunting JB for months wondering when the freaking hell it was coming out.

Apparently it was on tellie recently but I’m hopeless with the tellie. I’ve kind of lost the knack. I watch things on iTunes and buy movies and TV series on DVD, but the idea of checking a TV guide and planning my nightly viewing no longer occurs to me.

I told myself it was wicked and lazy to watch Californication on a Monday afternoon. Like alcohol, such indulgences should be reserved for after 5pm. But my friend whispered in my ear that there was “nothing wrong with a TV binge on a cloudy day” … and that’s all it took for cleaning the bathroom to go right out the window.

Three days later I was headachy but done. I had a girly boner for my long-term crush David Duchovny and an urge to turn clever words into a book.

Unfortunately, clearing out the attic not only stabbed my heart with old love notes from Husband, but confirmed that I’ve had similar urges to turn clever words into books in the past. There were flimsy manuscripts piled up everywhere. And they were universally terrible.

It’s funny how you don’t realise they’re terrible at the time. You think they’re witty and special. You even share them on your blog … and cringe when you re-read them eons later.

In recent years, I’ve also taken stabs at TV script-writing (even did a bloody course) and movie script writing. I invested heavily in software and everything.

I’m pretty sure they were crap too.

So why the freaking hell would I try again?

Because, despite its many failings (like the whole “cock cage” ridiculousness), Californication has lots of brilliant words. Words that fill me with joy the way music does. I can’t play or write music – though I tried that too once, it was called “You came and you went … tore my heart and left me spent …” (I was 14, I didn’t get the double entendre) and it was pretty dodgy too.

But I can write. And maybe if I try really hard I can write well.

That’s a mad dream because how many people manage it? And even if they do, they rarely make any money out of it.

There’s also this promise I made to a lawyer about not writing a book. It went along the lines of:  “Ha! That’s an easy promise to make because I don’t have a book in me!”

And maybe I don’t, but I think I might give it another try.

As for the sixth season of Californication … David was delectable, as usual. Maggie Grace left behind her annoying character from Lost and was sexy as hell. Hank’s pining for Karen made me all soppy and teary. Tim Minchin was a revelation as rock god Atticus Fetch. He was so delightfully mad. I totally LOVED him.  Go the gingers!

Sadly, season six of Californication was an epic fail with critics.

The Village Voice headlined its review: “Weep for David Duchovny’s Penis: On the Terribleness of Californication, Season 6”. It opined: “Californication has jumped the shark in a massive way. It has gone from being one of the most entertaining things on television to being almost entirely unwatchable.”

I kind of agree, there was some really stupid stuff in there. Really, really stupid.

And yet I couldn’t look away.

I blame it on DD, the sexy, erudite, witty beast. Please let there be real, single 50-year-old men like him lurking around in the real world … OK, maybe not quite that hot, because those ones will be too busy shagging chicks that look like Maggie Grace – and having sex addictions – to notice me.

But I can live in hope.

Ah, hope. God bless you.

Song of the day: Hunters & Collectors “The Slab”