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03/17/2008, 03:34 AM
#1
I don’t watch much network television. Just Survivor and Lost. And because of my well known legal entanglements, I have not until now had a chance to watch Thursday’s broadcasts.
From the beginning I’ve religiously watched Lost.
Been torn by Kate’s love for Jack, and her lust and empathy for Sawyer.
Been dizzied by Desmond’s odyssey for the love of his life, and ached by the ghosts that haunt Sayid.
But for some reason the story of Jin and Sun has held a peculiarly deep resonance for me. The story of his complying with the demands of her brutal corrupt father so as to honor him and be allowed to marry Sun, her affair and betrayal of him -- the lies, the deceits, and the forgivenesses of their relationship...
Their story always has had a special depth for me (even though they are not always the best performers.) And Thursday’s episode was certainly not one of the best in the series -- a series in which there have many many brilliantly complicated and beautifully told stories.
But when Hugo came to Sun’s house and she greeted him dressed in black, a shiver of dread raced down my spine. She invited Hugo to hold her baby, and Hugo remarked about how much the baby looked like Jin.
When Sun asked if Hugo would like to go see Jin, I just totally lost it. The moment they stepped outside, long before they got to the cemetery I started bawling uncontrollably.
I just knew he was dead -- perhaps from the moment he left the stuffed Panda at the hospital.
I was at least as affected by the episode a couple of weeks ago when Jack begged Kate to come back with him to the island -- a much more nuanced and complexly told story -- but I was just very profoundly touched by Jin’s death for some reason.
Maybe its for the same reason I was so affected by the death of John Lennon, which we talked about here a while back. The idea of the death of someone who has fought through a life of pain and heartache to finally find happiness -- and to then die -- is so so much more tragic than every other death. So very few of us ever achieve real happiness. Truly happy lives are very very rare -- and are therefore, I am sad to say, much more precious than every other...
(please forgive the delusional muttering of THE MONKEY sociopath -- its probably an ephemeral effect caused by the commencement of spring -- or of the DTs...)
 Originally Posted by BARYE
blocks away the night he was murdered, I made my way to the Dakota and spent several hours together with the others who gathered in that first night's spontaneous outpouring of agonized disbelief and sorrow.
His death was the violent horrific end of the Aquarian epoch of love, peace, optimism, and hope -- and the beginning of our current epoch together with the inauguration of Raygunism -- and the phoniness, opportunism, exploitation, lies, and despair that have consumed us since...
That night though remains for me to this day the most emotionally moving public thing I've ever experienced -- the singing of Imagine, Christmas and the others, all the tearful embraces, was unprecedented -- people came that first night on their own before the news coverage had made it a "popular" media spectacle. A wrenching wrenching end to a wonderful guy.
His death all the more horrific because he had seemingly finally found happiness after a lifetime of struggle and internal pain. He had finally re-achieved success and happiness in his career, victory against Nixon, overcoming his dependency on drugs and alcohol, and love and reconciliation with Yoko.
So few humans ever achieve anything like a happy life -- it is especially awful when a life such as that is so wastefully foreshortened so uselessly...
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