Today, while I was working on some things around the house (and "house" is a misnomer -- it's a just a 1-bedroom apartment; how anyone maintains a whole house while working full time is beyond my ken), I had the television on, tuned to AMC. I don't know why. It just happened that way. Perhaps it was fate. So I saw today most of the first season of the series "The Walking Dead."
It's violent. It's distressing. It's depressing. It's exciting. It's thrilling. It's damned riveting. The series is well written, really well structured, spiffy cliffhangers that don't let you down at the opening of the next episode, and the casting and acting are terrific. This is a horror series that's scary as all get out. Watching the Season 1 Marathon forced me into lots of gasps, lots of covering of my eyes, clutching my kitties to me until they squirmed away.
When I went outside -- outside! -- to the store in the twilight (I know, what was I thinking!), I wondered if people in Queens had always walked slightly off kilter, with that shuffle. To and from the store I kept my eyes open, and my walk brisk.
I'm at the beginning of Season Two and I'm gasping and jumping and talking to and gesticulating at the characters onscreen. Oh yes. I'm scared. And I'm hooked.
~ Molly Matera, thinking I'll keep some lights on tonight.....