I recently have been compelled–forced, I tell you, by an unknown power source—to revisit every episode of Star Trek TNG. I’m averaging 7 episodes per day and the rest of my work, life, cat litter chores, meaningful interactions and quest for sustenance has been cancelled until such time as I may remove myself from the obsession. Temporarily. It is always temporarily that I quit Star Trek TNG. Every couple of years I go on this journey again.
Star Trek: The Next Generation is one of the greatest pieces of literature of the 20th century. I know this. It represents some of the most advanced creative thinking…or thinking by a creative…our times have produced. Perhaps Star Trek TNG and Bulworth are the two most progressive moving picture inventions ever.
I have been invited by an academic journal to write about Star Trek: The Next Generation as a thesis on Marxist society. Working on that project is not only fun, fun, fun till your daddy took the T-bird away; it is exhausting. Frustrating, too, at times: I hate to pause a wonderful speech to take notes. Mostly fun, though.
That’s why this blog entry and the next few will be short.
…madly in love with the dead Roddenberry.
Oh, in the meantime, please enjoy a senryu I wrote a few years ago.
Next Generation //
Was the best Star Trek series //
Don’t argue with me //