At the risk of hanging my gomer side out, I must confess how the prospect of a new X-files morsel leaves me tingly and channeling my inner pocket protector diva. Not enough to pick up and trek to the movie alone tonight, as I reside on a disturbing island of people who only recognize reality and all things grounded, but enough to gorge on 2 am re-runs until my CP finishes going all Pro-Liason on me in San Fran next week.
I want to believe that this stand-alone theatrical attempt to recapture the Mulder-Scully magic hasn't become a casualty of its own warped loss of time--much longer than the nine minutes they lost on a vacant New Mexico highway. That special freakishness that catapulted the series to cult status is the very thing that has become distilled over a decade, the weird in pop-culture now a rule rather than the exception.
I want to believe that my preoccupation with David Duchovny wasn't simply a by-product of the sparse inspirational landscape that was the early 90's.
I want to believe it's possible to sustain a storyline's sexual tension over fifteen years without the characters realizing that sleeping on the couch and watching porn during non-working hours has dimmed the romance.
I want to believe it's possible for beautiful nerd chicks to become even more stunning with time.
I want to believe that someday when I show my children the donated X-files memorabilia in the Smithsonian, they'll not take one look at me, roll their eyes and suggest their father's Snoopy dance would be far more entertaining.
I want to believe that shining a bulb beneath my blinds at night will bring elderly, smoking men who will cryptically foretell of a great list in the New York Times that will contain the name L.A. Mitchell.
I want to believe a bee sting will not get in the way this time.
I want to believe the wild-haired self-published author I met at the Weatherford booksigning spouting a conspiracy theory about Wal-mart is NOT Max Fenig.
If you're a Phile, own it here so you can inhabit my island for a bit. We'll sustain on a steady diet of obscure, random trivia and sunflower seeds.