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When director and artist David Lynch passed away a few weeks ago, I immediately started rewatching\u00a0Twin Peaks<\/em>. With the exception of its 2017 return, I hadn\u2019t watched the first two seasons in over a decade, and I was struck by how oddly soothing it was to revisit. Logging towns in the Pacific Northwest, townie weirdos, creeping dread, and bottomless cups of diner coffee? That\u2019s my comfort food.\u00a0<\/p>\n I don\u2019t know much about David Lynch. Despite being a borderline superfan and having seen almost every movie and show he\u2019s made (I\u2019m not watching\u00a0Dune\u00a0<\/em>or\u00a0On the Air<\/a><\/em>, guys, sorry). That was mostly a conscious choice. I suppose fandom requires you to know everything about your favorite filmmakers or musicians. I\u2019m not immune to that desire; it\u2019s only natural to probe a film\u2019s greater meaning by deep-diving into the history of its creator. But with Lynch, I always let the mystery be. If he was going to be\u00a0happily cagey and elusive<\/a>\u00a0about what he was trying to communicate, well, I wanted that work to exist just as mysteriously in my own brain.\u00a0<\/p>\n It took nearly three months for me to watch\u00a0Twin Peak: The Return;\u00a0<\/em>mind you, this was a few years after it debuted, mostly because I\u2019m in that class of parents who are way behind on pop culture but also chronically online because of work. Still, I\u2019m glad I experienced it on my own terms and avoided any noise about it on social media. My wife checked out after one episode, so it turned into late-night solo viewing, and I found myself passing out within 15 minutes of each episode.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n