all things

I think one of the best parts of recapping old episodes that I have on tape, from, like, FX, or something, is seeing what else I thought was suitable to tape at various points in my life. For example, apparently at some point, I felt it necessary to tape several episodes of 90210 -- the ones from that summer season when Dylan and Kelly were having an affair and Mel Silver knocked up Kelly's mom. Why? No idea.

Open on Mulder's apartment. It's dark, because the sun never shines on poor, poor, poor Fox Mulder. Scully is in the bathroom. The faucet drips loudly as she pulls her apple green sweater down over her rib cage and zips up her skirt. Which means, to me, that she was topless at one point. I mean, who takes off her shirt to pee? I'm just saying. "Time passes in moments," she voice-overs. "Moments which, rushing past, define the path of a life, just as surely as they lead towards its end." The ceiling fan whirs. Scully smoothes her hair and looks over her shoulder, through the open door behind her. She walks out of the bathroom. The camera focuses on the dripping faucet. Fox Mulder: A Man Without a Plumber. "How rarely do we stop to examine that path, to see the reasons why all things happen?" the voice-over continues, as Scully stands in front of a window and shrugs on her blazer. "To consider whether the path we take in life is of our own making, or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed. But what if we could stop, take stock of each precious moment before it passes?" she asks, walking out of the frame. I am already practically napping here. Let's get to the nudity, people, and stop the yammering. Blah blah, path, blah blah fate, blah blah blah blah blah. Scully is still talking. "Might we then see the endless forks in a road that have shaped a life, and seeing those choices, choose another path?" she asks, as we pan down to Mulder's naked leg, protruding from a mass of rumpled bed linens. There's what looks like a head divot in the pillow next to him, and it certainly appears that someone else spent the night in the bed with him, but it's hard to say. (Of course it's hard to say. It's hard to say if the sun rises every morning on this show.) At any rate, this is where everyone watching this episode the first time around starting screaming, either with unspeakable joy or profound agony.

Dee dee dee dee dee deeeeeeeeeeeee. Dee dee dee dee dee deeeeeeee. Dee DEE dee dee dee DEEEEEEE. Dee dee dee dee dee DEEEEEE. Dee dee dee dee dee deeeeee. Deee deee dee dee dee DEEEEEE. DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE DEEEEE.

Bright light. On and off. On. And off. On and off and on. Moby plays in the background. Like Mulder would listen to Moby. Gillian Anderson listens to Moby (a lot, apparently, since he's all over this episode, which she both wrote and directed). Mulder listens to ELO. Lights: on and off. On and off. On and off. Okaaaaay. Mulder, in casual wear, clicks his precious slide projector off and on a few more times and then starts loading his slides. The Wherefore Wert Thou Last Season, Oh Time Stamp? informs us that this is sixty-three hours prior to Scully doing the walk of shame home from Mulder's. Moby. Moby. More freaking Moby. I liked this album, too, but jeezum. We pan over to a portable CD player. Moby. Moby. Moby. Somewhere, Eminem gnashes his teeth. Mulder twitches his butt in time to the music as he puts slides in the projector.