In which I remember Harry Dean Stanton (not that I ever forgot him).
Twin Peaks is back, and it’s exactly as unlike it used to be as it ever was.
We’ve waited twenty-five years, Lynch, just like you asked us to. What’s next?
It is a half-lucid dream you already had, if only you could remember.
David Chase, never left alone since he blacked out The Sopranos, says something, says something else, and is for the most part completely misunderstood.