Black as Midnight on a Moonless Night

"Diane, 11:30 am, February twenty-fourth. Entering the town of Twin Peaks."

I watched Twin Peaks when it first aired on BBC2 in 1990. One episode a week. One episode at a time. Right up until the end. And, like so many others, I was in its thrall from the very beginning. And yet...

I have resisted revisiting Twin Peaks since that very first time. Sure, sometimes I weaken and I’ll dip into an episode or catch a clip on YouTube, but I try not to. As much as I love it (and I love it a lot), I sort of don’t want to watch it ever again. For some reason I can’t really articulate, I feel like repeated exposure to that magnificent place will somehow dilute its potency and mystery.

I've been thinking about Twin Peaks a lot in the last couple of weeks. Recently, I've been feeling particularly tired (even by my standards) and burnt-out and I’m struggling to shake it. But, whenever it hits me, I recall one of the many highpoints that I still remember vividly from my all-too-brief stay in that unusual lumber town in the Pacific Northwest, and it always gives me a little lift. It goes like this:

"Harry, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don’t plan it, don’t wait for it, just let it happen. It could be a new shirt at the men's store, a catnap in your office chair or two cups of good hot black coffee. Like this."

One last morsel from that zen detective. Smart fella, that Dale Cooper:

"All things considered, being shot is not as bad as I always thought it might be. As long as you can keep the fear from your mind. But I guess you can say that about almost anything in life. Its not so bad as long as you can keep the fear from your mind."