David Lynch

David Lynch is weird. I read his book on transcendental mediation and how it affected his life as a filmmaker — you will not get a clue on how to meditate or make movies from his book, but it’s a fun read, because the chapters are one paragraph long but still give a sense of his weirdness. The first time he meditated, he saw a bright white wall and sat in bliss while 20 minutes went by in a blink. What? I don’t know anyone whose first time meditating was anything but a distracting pain in the arse. He talks about Blue Velvet — how he didn’t know what it was going to be, but could hear the song and see the slow pan on a lawn at night, where you see some normal backyard detritus like a ball and a hat and an ear. An ear! A freaking ear! Where does that come from? What also contributes to his wildness is that he looks like a simple, Midwestern farmer, and yet a lot of his pictures have violence and oddball sexuality.

He has sworn off film, completely enamored with the convenience, affordability, and hazy video quality of digital. He also makes and sells coffee on his web site. What? He’s so passionate about coffee, he started selling it. I was thinking about getting some for Christmas gifts, but they’re all fifty bucks. I don’t know anyone who likes coffee enough so much that it’s worth fifty bucks. Anyway, I recommend his book.