100 Days Project

Ben: 100 Writings / 100 Opening Guitar Hooks

various, random creative expressions / writings, inspired partially by 100 popular songs (songs that somewhat begin with a leading hook of a guitar.)

Day 99:

“Straight Up And Down” (1996) by the Brian Jonestown Massacre

“Straight Up And Down” (1996) by the Brian Jonestown Massacre

WARNING: The following writing contains spoilers of HBO-only TV shows.  If you are not up to date, please do not continue.











Only HBO





















































I’ve warned you.























I posted on Facebook that, still to this day, HBO’s ‘The Wire’, is the greatest Television show of all time.  It’s expansive; it’s novelistic; it’s Dickens in television format; it’s faultless.  Yes, the final season isn’t as great, but it’s far better than any of the seasons of your favourite shows.  It will last the distance as the most bold television event ever dramatized.  We, Wire fans, must seem like looneys: “Have you seen 'The Wire'?  Y’gotta watch 'The Wire'”; “It is the greatest TV EVAH!”; “Yes, it’s better than the Sopranos.”  Any opportunity to hound some innocent couch potato.  But make no mistake, it is the greatest.  I better finish this paragraph before I go and on and on and on about it.

Anywho, my sister saw my post and said she just finished season one of it.  Again, I went into my spiel about how post-modern it was, how the writing was beyond anything on TV, how it managed to chapterize episodes and season, how it blah, blah, blah, blah.  I was eager for her to agree.

But the only thing she mentioned was how hot Idris Elba was.


“That guy who plays Stringer Bell.  He’s quite fine.”

Ummmmmmmmmmm, okkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkay.

My sister’s the type of woman who likes to admire from afar.  Shy-like.  She’ll whisper who she thinks is good looking.  She don’t kick up too much of a loud fuss.

Eventually, she did agree, in my persistence, as to how ground breaking ‘The Wire’ was.  But her attention always went back to Idris.  She, still, continues to post pictures of him.  I thought, whatever.  As long as she understood how brilliant the show was, I just let her continue … especially in foresight of what was gonna happen to her beloved Stringer by season three.

A month later.


Welcome to HBO.

“Why would they kill him?!  He was so good looking.”
“Sis, you understand, Stringer was a backstabbing, high-level, criminal mastermind, right?”
“Yeah, but … um … he was so good looking.”

It seemed she wasn’t watching the show at all.  She was just watching Stringer.  I insisted that she continue on until the end of season five, though I reserved suspicions she wouldn’t, as her ‘man’ was no longer around to tickle her visual fancies.  Eventually, she got over his death, continued, and, more importantly, declared how great ‘The Wire’ was.

My sister was now on the bandwagon like everyone else in this generation – becoming addicted to modern American television: binge-watching these great revolutionary shows.

Then I tried to goad her into the phenomenon that is ‘Game of Thrones.’  She thought it better to read the books first.  But she wasn’t impressed.  She thought GRR Martin can’t write for women.  She thought his writing was petty, ridiculous and horribly crap.  Hence, I thought it made sense she wouldn’t watch the show.

But, lo and behold, she facebooked me that she was watching ‘Game of Thrones’.  Being forever eager to discuss modern television’s transformation, I asked her of her thoughts over the novel to the show.  I asked her of how television has made the genre of Fantasy acceptable.  I asked her how such a show wouldn’t work on regular network television.  I asked her whether the phenomenon was warranted.

“That Jason Momoa!  He fine.”

I’m not making any of this up.

“Let me guess.  The Polynesian looking guy, right?”
“Mmmmmmmm!  Beautiful Polynesian face, beautiful Polynesian body, beautiful Polynesian skin – all that dragon stuff.  Very, very fine.”
“Yeah, but … um, how about the show’s revolutionary effects upon the genre of Fantasy”
“OH, FANTASY, ALRIGHT!  Mmmm!  Mmm! Mm!  Fan.  Ta.  Seee!”


And as sure as the sun, guess what happened a few weeks later.


Welcome to GRR Martin.
Welcome to HBO.

“Surely, you knew he was gonna die.  You told me you read the books!  You can’t be serious that you didn’t see this coming?!”

I thought she would say HBO wouldn’t do such a thing because Jason Momoa was too good looking for her, to die but she explained that the first book was so shit, she didn’t bother continuing to read the following books.  That’s a fair call.  But, once more, she seemed more interested in the visuals of the show, rather than of Martin’s text.  But whatever.

Hopefully, this wouldn’t happen again.

A friend of hers recommended, ‘Boardwalk Empire’.  Great – that’s a fantastic show: thrilling and beautiful.  But just as I was noting that, at the back of my mind, I perused all the characters.  I believed there wasn’t any fulla in the cast that could catch her eye; no men in the show that looked remotely like Stringer or Drogo; I looked for any unwanted attention to draw her away from the actual story of this great show.  Didn’t think I saw any.

I soon asked her for her thoughts of the show.

I am not making any of this up.

“Mmmmmm … that Michael Pitt.  He fine.”
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!  When did you start liking white boys?!”
“I’ve always liked white boys.  Especially good-looking white boys – wink, wink.”
(Shaking my head in utter disappointment.)
“I remember seeing him in 'Dawson’s Creek'.  I remember that beautiful face then.  And, my oh my, he’s still got that beautiful face now.  Hasn’t HE grown up!”

This was not the shy little girl I remember.  This was a Woman: slowly confident, mature … and sexual.  Grossed me the fuck out.  I soon closed that conversation and kept away from her for a little awhile.  Not only for a little time for me to realise she’s an adult, but obviously as to what would happen to Michael at the end of season two.  Could’ve been a Tuesday when I got the expected Facebook message.  De ja vu:


Thought you’d learnt, but again, welcome to HBO.

My sister was saddened, but just for a little while.  Not before Jesse from 'Breaking Bad' would take her fancy.  Overall, I think she learnt her lesson.  But the events did showcase why I love talking about modern television.  This is unpredictable stuff.  No one is safe in TV.  Do not trust anyone.  Your favourite character is just as likely not to be here next week.  All the rules of how television is supposed to be a trusting and settled home, went straight out the window as soon as Tony Soprano killed a guy onscreen.  This is unpleasant.  This is realistic.  This is brilliant television … if you were actually paying attention, instead of checking out the packages.

Later, I recommended ‘Girls’ to her: an hilarious and ugly portrayal of young women today.  Further along, she told me that the show was relatable and far genuine than any of the shows I’ve recommended to her.  Because the show is set today, the girls are realistically moody and, above else, all the guys on the show, just like in her real life, are pathetic and unattractive creeps.  No chance, at all, she would feel amiss with any absence of those male losers.  FINALLY, a show I can talk with her about!

Hopefully Jesse survives.