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Getting addicted to "Lost" really caught me off guard. It's not really my kind of show, with the black smoke that sounds like an NYC taxi meter throwing people around, a seemingly exhausted premise, and interior spaces like houses and hatches with full bathrooms available and folks still choosing to live in tents. That said, after being force fed a few episodes, I'm totally hooked.

Am currently in Season 3, catching up before the final season airs, and made it through 2 episodes before my morning coffee after a long, arduous week. The journey to rescue Jack from "The Others" set the right tone for a strangely warm October Saturday in NYC.

My coffee reminded me of an episode where they talk about missing coffee. My noisy icemaker reminded me of how long it's been since they've seen ice. With Kate and Sawyer returning from imprisonment all dirty and sweaty, my shower felt extra refreshing and a change of clothes was a real luxury.

Passed the Animazing Gallery in SoHo. They have a beautiful exhibit on right now of Maurice Sendak etchings and illustrations. (Proceeds benefit the Rosenback Museum and Library and the Jane Goodall Institute. Animazing Gallery: 54 Greene Street at Broome 212-226-7374.) "Where The Wild Things" fans will be in heaven. I thought about Spike Jonze's adaptation and about how resonant his depiction of childhood anger was, and then I thought about the logistics of "Where The Wild Things Are," that they were also on an island and there I was back at "Lost" considering how the monsters and the plane crash victims both put heavy emphasis on finding happy moments, having fun and that important role that joy and companionship seem play in island life.

Ate some dim sum and briefly recollected Wayne Wang's 1985 film "Dim Sum: A Little Bit of Heart," and then the little steamer baskets made me think of rafts and there I was again, thinking about getting off the island, and first raft burning and the folks on the island coming back together to build a new one. Suddenly the adorable kids I saw come into a liquor store to trick-or-treat was that much more heart warming of a sight because of the sense of community on "Lost."

Haggling over the price of an (expensive) pumpkin in the farmer's market on an abormally hot day with a constant threat of rain, I thought of the scarcity of food on the island. Roasting the seeds in the oven, I thought about how few things I know how to cook over a camp fire.

All these thoughts of "Lost" started to become annoying, which is something I thought might happen with "Lost" because "Lost" fans tend to be SERIOUS. Then I heard the Halloween parade competing with the Animal Collective (my carving music) and I thought about how nice a quiet island might be, then I remembered that Halloween is really fun. I wish I hadn't returned "The Hand That Rocks The Cradle" to Netflix. But alas, I had good friends over and plenty of "Lost" left to watch tomorrow.

I'm not ready to comment on what I think of the show. I don't feel like I'm objective right now, just addicted. And I'm watching episodes back-to-back-to-back, which somehow feels weird for something that was intended to be viewed in weekly installments and includes all the necessary exposition to make it work. I thought of "Lost" like a soap opera. "The Writing," I'd say, "it's no 'Madmen.'" But I'll reserve judgement for now, because clearly the show is making me think....

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Where The Wild Things Are
Maurice Sendak