Twin Peaks: The Final Dossier

For instance, there is no light without darkness—and this troubles many of us—but without it, how else would we tell one from the other? We spend half of every day in darkness; surely we should make our peace with this.

A traveller learns more than a passenger.

A core fundamental of human existence is wonder—and its analogue is fear. You can’t have one without the other, flip sides of the coin.

Life is what it is, a gift that is given to us for a time—like a library book—that must eventually be returned. How should we treat this book? If we are able to remember that it is not ours to begin with—one that we’re entrusted with, to care for, to study and learn from—perhaps it would change the way we treat it while it’s in our possession.

And even as we 'wonder' at what we're doing here, so do we also fear-- so deep down below the surface of our lives that few can bear to look at it-- that life is a meaningless jest, an extravagant exercise in morbidity, a tale of sorrow and suffering lit by flashes, and made bearable only by moments of companionship and unsustainable joy. Along the way, as we struggle to come to terms and comprehend why this strange fate has befallen us, time becomes no longer our ally-- the spendthrift assumption of our youth-- but our executioner. It all feels at times like a merciless joke made at our expense, without our consent.

Pardon my French for a second, Chief, but what the fuck?

Twin Peaks – my first visit, charming place, as you’ve always told me, but to be honest, Chief, I’m a big-city girl and always will be.

there is no light without darkness—and this troubles many of us—but without it, how else would we tell one from the other?

Sorry. Trigger warning: Repeated and prolonged proximity to moribund logging communities set off my misanthropy.

While he could no longer legally hang up a shingle, the good doctor showed no inclination to abandon his well-trodden path dancing along the margins on the outer precincts of reality’s most radical possibilities.

Joudy, it turns out, is also the name of an ancient entity in Sumerian mythology. (This dates back to at least 3000 B.C.) The name was used to describe a species of wandering demon—also generically known as an utukku—that had ‘escaped from the underworld’ and roamed freely throughout the earth, where they feasted on human flesh and, ripped the souls from their victims, which provided even more meaningful nourishment. They particularly thrived while feeding—and I quote—’on human suffering.’ These beings were said to appear in both male and female forms—’Joudy’ indicated the female, and the male was known as ‘Ba’al’—and, while they were considered beyond dangerous individually, if a male and a female ever united while on earth, the ancient texts claimed, their resulting ‘marriage’ would create something far more perilous. As in: the end of the world as we know it. A few centuries later, Ba’al becomes better known, in both Christian and Islamic sources, as ‘Beelzebub,’ a false god, or, as he’s known more generically today, the devil.

Repeated and prolonged proximity to moribund logging communities set off my misanthropy.

This is not a happy story, it doesn’t begin or end well, and the middle is equally dreadful.

Why do the wicked attract us so? What hint of glamour, hope for material gain, or assumption of fleeting happiness do they radiate, that we can find ourselves so easily, fatally taken in?

When a dark age comes, hold the light inside.

I know the Blue Rose Task Force is charged with the investigation of matters that would make most average citizens—or the world’s most expert neurophysicists, for that matter—flee from the room with their hair spontaneously combusting.