Dexter, Season 2: A good beginning

I like that he misses with the knife, in the first episode. And with the loa, how appropriate. And that he is rendered impotent.

And then, in the season, the challenge.

And the treasure trove of bags. So elegant. And then, the failure. And with the entrapment, feeling.

Thus far I like this season very much. Of course it is but one episode.

The urge for ritual, it comes. To feel what one has felt. But when the ritual does not satisfy, it leaves an emptiness that is large. Some are easily understood, such as when someone missing the turkey…the birthday card…the wedding ring. And some less so.

Some urges begin in the mind and travel to the gut, or then to the groin. Others reverse the cycle. The palms ache, the breathing quickens. The thoughts spiral, first fleeting, then more, more, tightly bound until it becomes a single point, a perfect circle. That is the moment there is only the urge. For some, destruction. For others, self-destruction.

Sometimes an act may redeem. But sometimes an act may condemn. To build the tie, to sever it.

Sometimes I think all my life has been lies. Lies told, lies heard. How many times, cara mia, have you said you would wait outside the gates. How many times have you told me later.

And yet you allow her ritual to dominate, you allow her to enclose you in her narrow band. To whisper her nothings, not even sweet. Did you create her?


About Jenn

Find me on Twitter @JennGruden
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