red not dead

I remember watching a marathon of Fawlty Towers with my mum and my brother when I was in high school. We laughed our asses off but my dad couldn’t stand it. He said he just felt so embarrassed for Basil that the whole thing was excruciating.

I thought of this earlier today when my mind went on a complete and utter bender. I got embarrassed about something and for some reason it triggered an avalanche of embarrassing memories. It was like the humiliation of my current moment acted like a dragnet for every other mortifying instance of my life. It was dreadful.

I wish I could have left my mind as easily as my father left the room when Basil caused him such distress. But then I thought maybe watching some Fawlty Towers would cure me, and I must confess I don’t feel so badly anymore. It’s not so bad, after all. I’m not so bad. It could be worse, I could be Basil. (Nobody could be Basil, ugh! don’t be Basil!!)