Last night we finished Angel

I really don’t know what to do now. Robyn and I watched the last episode – we kept pausing to remind each other how momentous this all was, the last episode of Angel ever, so it took longer than usual – and when we were done we just felt so empty. So very, very empty. We sat there looking at the blank TV screen, and we just didn’t know where our lives could possibly go from this point. We thought about it and realized that we’ve been watching Angel since February, which I know isn’t an incredibly long time in the grand scheme of things, but in terms of devotion to a single item of media, that’s a solid three and a half months right there. I’d say a good three months in which Robyn and I were constantly scheming ways that we could avoid doing other stuff and instead get together and watch Angel. And it’s not like The Office, because that took less time to watch through, and furthermore when we had watched all the episodes that there were, we still knew there would be more episodes forthcoming.

Whereas now we are just sad, and it’s all over, and no more Angel. Ever.

Over the past three months, if Robyn and I have been in the same place at the same time, and if we have had access to a TV and a DVD player, it has been pretty much a foregone conclusion that we have been watching Angel. Things have changed as time has gone on – we missed Doyle, we loved Wesley, we knew we could never get behind an Angel-Cordelia relationship because he loves Buffy best, we felt uncomfortable with Gunn, we reserved judgment on Fred, we loved Gunn, we loved Fred, we strongly supported the Angel-Cordelia relationship even though he loves Buffy best, we hated Wesley – but you know, in a general overall sense, it’s been pretty much the same. There’s been a lot of this exchange: “I should go”; “Yeah, I guess so”; “Maybe I could stay for one more episode”; “Yeah, you probably better should, just because it doesn’t make any sense to stop with one more episode left to go on this disc”; “What can we do? Our hands are tied”. A lot of speculation about Pylea and the Groosalugg and why, why, why. A lot of evil hand jokes. And now it’s all over. All, all, all over. (I mean, not the evil hand jokes, of course. That will never be over.)

When the episode ended, we lay on the bed complaining about the end of an era, and then I was all “Well, I guess we could watch a movie” and then we were both like “Oh yeah. Movies. Huh.”

If it weren’t for the fact that I just started reading The Ground Beneath Her Feet again, I would be lying in a corner weeping right now. But I can’t possibly do that when The Ground Beneath Her Feet is around. Seriously? I love that book. Wow. Salman Rushdie. So many good things I am reremembering – the tragedy story that has much to do with goats, and the mens sana in bally corpora sano, and “Disorientation: loss of the East. And of Ormus Cama, her sun”, I really liked that line. Oh, The Ground Beneath Her Feet. I loved it so much that after I read it, I never read another Salman Rushdie book. I know there are still The Satanic Verses and Shalimar the Clown and The Moor’s Last Sigh (that’s the order, from least to most, of the extent of my desire to read them), but I just haven’t read them. I’m just afraid to. The Moor’s Last Sigh I am saving as a special treat for myself, but the other two, I know I won’t love them as much as I do The Ground Beneath Her Feet, and I’ll be so sad if it turns out I don’t love them at all.

Aside: Salman Rushdie, why did you get U2 to write “The Ground Beneath Her Feet” song? Why U2? Why not someone cooler, like the Decemberists or the Shins? Seriously, why not the Decemberists, Salman Rushdie? The Decemberists are much more like your books than U2. Shit, the Decemberists pretty much are you, in musical, American form.

(Hm. The Decemberists and Salman Rushdie. Really frighteningly similar. tim, am I right about this? I think that I am. Interesting.)

Oh my God! I just looked up – oh my God, I’m totally going to hyperventilate – Salman Rushdie has a new book out, like in the past, oh my God, really recently he released it, and there it is, a new book by Salman Rushdie, oh my God, and I didn’t know, and now I can read it, and there it is, a brand new book by Salman Rushdie and and and Italy and India Enchantress there’s book is Florence new love and May

(I had to slap myself in the face just then to keep from being hysterical.)

(Ouch.)

I don’t know how I missed this. Did Bongs & Noodles, a store I visit with relative frequency, just not bother putting Salman Rushdie’s new book out on display when it came out? Bongs & Noodles, what’s up? It’s Salman Rushdie. He had a fatwa! Put his damn book on display!

Seriously, though, 2008 is a happy year for me and books. When I was talking about favorite living authors I forgot all about my good buddy Salman Rushdie. So that makes one, two, three, four, five very exciting new books coming out this year, and I can only conclude that all of these lovely people are releasing their books this year as a graduation gift to me. Yes, I deserve it. I worked very hard and got good grades. I now graciously accept your tributes. Thank you, Mr. Rushdie. Ms. Flewelling, Ms. Peters. Mr. Gaiman. Ms. Jones. Thank you one and all for your kindness and generosity.

…I just reread this post. I sound not quite sane in this blog post; plus it ended up in a totally different place to where it started. Try to bear in mind that you’re witnessing a recovery process. Recovering. Gradually. From the end of an Angel era.