the leaner i get, the softer i reveal my self to be. met a woman who was a new jersey ghost of my former self, though i was never quite That harsh. she spent the mixer talking about her self, how men in LA are “too soft” and that her last lover left due to her sharp edges. myself, i find the men here a momentary reprieve from war. in another life, i was tightly spooled, perpetually having to have been at my destination ten minutes ago. and nowadays, i do not require that level of armour, so brassy and self-isolating. i can exhale. drop my shoulders. i am still bold, i am still assertive and cocksure, but with far softer edges than before.
wouldn’t his words make you wish to sheath those edges, i asked— just a skosh? to evolve?
her whole aura frowned. she did Not agree. (still got it, V.)
i miss you and i wish i didn’t. seeing you after so many months was akin to being plunged into the january atlantic. my entire body reacts to you still, even from a distance where you are trying your damndest Not to look at me. (me fucking too.)
you read things i’d heard before, in another life in your bed. and hearing your voice brought electric twinges of sadness. i long for a future where you’ll be around, where things will be different between us, better. fun. drunk. happy. no cold words where once there was You.
but instead, you’re somehow more dis- connected than i; broke but with no fix. all i know is fixing, my whole life. “approach everything like a problem, you’ll be a hammer where every fucking thing looks a nail. don’t be so cynical, it’s unbecoming”, my mother always told me when i was young and dumb. i thought that it would save me from being burned like that again, but it only makes me distant. and right now, i am cooked. of course, she was right. wrapping yourself in cynicism is a good way to drown. no more stones in my pockets.
i wish you the best of every damn thing. i hope you’ll have me around someday
rage paves the way for sorrow
and then regret. i find myself holding you
close to my heart and my mind, slowly
driving myself into a pothole. you are
never far, and
i know you feel it too. come on out
and dance instead. think of
me, think of the moments we could be
stealing instead of dead air suffocating
the both of us beat by beat. i long
for your touch, hollowing me out
and then ending it all.
the new year’s day,
when the roof caved in. the film
moved me from tears to an
unending sense of
absolute dread and nothing was
the same after that.
guilt, a steady piercing ache
humming in my head like the
emergency broadcast system.
electric and sour.
the bar,
silently sitting staring and
stirring my whiskey rocks, i can recall
that exact moment i knew we were
done— an albatross deep in my chest
years later. my shame is
immeasurable and trying to piece it all
together now feels futile. but as i find
myself again, ounce by ounce it
dissipates.
Here we are at the Season 3 finale, and it’s a fucking good one. Right out of the gate, Conrad Hilton lets the A-bomb drop that PPL and Sterling Cooper are being sold off to McCann Erickson effective January 1st, and Don ain’t pleased. Who the hell wants to be a cog in the massive McCann machine? Looks like Jim Hobart is back to haunt Don.
This episode is peppered with flashbacks to his childhood, where the farm isn’t doing well. Archie is attempting to make a deal, and outright refuses to settle for less than he’s worth; he splits from the co-op he’s involved with, telling everyone to get the fuck out. Looks like Archie and Don have something in common after all.
Urging Archie to sell his crop for fuckall, he angrily complies with Abigail’s wishes. As he’s getting set to give it all away, he’s killed by that horse as Dick watches on in the night; should’ve stuck with your guns, Arch.
As shit falls apart, Don scrambles for an idea to make it all come back together again. He’s not gonna end up like his father. Ironically (or probably not), Don seems to be at his professional best when his personal life is a complete mess. He’s equal parts intensely focused, enthusiastic, and pissed off, abuzz with anxiety; he wants to build something of his own and pleads his case to Bert and Roger.
“You’re not good at relationships because you don’t value them.”
Shots fired from Roger, and he ain’t wrong; Don is shook. He admits defeat with Hilton, he’s certainly no account man; Don needs Roger and his talents along for the ride. It’s revealed that he does, however, value his relationship with Roger. Bert (taking a page out of Lane’s book) seals the deal for Roger to join up with them via a vanity jab.
At home, Betty bluntly lets Don know she’s made an appointment with a divorce lawyer. Trying to minimise her feelings again, he treats her like a child by saying she’s had a rough couple of weeks. Super slimy shit, Denial Don.
Don: “Forget it. I’m not gonna let you break up this family.”
Betty: “I didn’t break up this family..”
Get this motherfucker to the Burn Unit.
Betty and Henry meet with his attorney, who reveals a magical divorce loophole.. looks like they’re headed to Reno to establish residency and get on with it. Henry, in order to not drag things out, insists that he’ll provide all she could ever need in life; he doesn’t want her owing Don anything. An incredibly kind gesture, one that Betty is not accustomed to.
A clean break.. and then drunk Roger lets the fucking bomb slip re:Betty’s new sidepiece and Don ain’t pleased. He’s drunk, pissed off, and truly nasty to her; they both know he crossed the line. Ugly shit. Marriage over.
Lane is let into the conversation, and doesn’t yet know that PPL is being sold along with Sterling Cooper. Incredulous, he rings London to find out what’s up. Saint John confirms that PPL is indeed being sold as well, and realising that he would be left to flap in the wind, Lane is ticked that he hasn’t been considered beyond a cog in a gigantic machine who will statically “prove himself irreplaceable”. Man, fuck PPL.
In a moment of great storytelling, Lane’s indubitable authority to fire anyone at the firm was set up way back in the season premiere. And this is the lightbulb moment, the one Don was trying to crack.. in one fell swoop, Lane can sever Don, Roger and Bert’s contracts by giving them the sack. There’s a partnership on the table for Lane, and the negotiations begin.
“Well, it’s official: Friday, December 13th, 1963.. four guys shot their own legs off.”
Time to snag some accounts, which means it’s time to see faux sick Pete Campbell at home. Admitting that Pete has been ahead of the curve on loads of things, and that he’s a valuable person to have on board for the new firm moving forward, Don and Roger implore him to come along for the ride; Pete agrees, finally receiving the recognition he’s wanted since the pilot. Like everyone else on earth, Pete wants to feel valued.
Before getting everything firmly in motion for the new agency that weekend, Don and Betty have to tell Sally and Bobby about their divorce. It does not go well, with Don attempting one last time to shape the narrative to his own reality, saying it’s only temporary. “Nobody wants to do this.” No shit, Don.
Completely failing at getting Peggy to jump ship and go with him on Friday, Don follows up at her apartment. The first time around he essentially ordered her to come with; he’s been such an aloof haughty dick to her this whole goddamned season, it’s not shocking that she turned him down. Having that horrendous conversation with his kids humbles him just a touch, and it dawns on him that he doesn’t want to see important people in his life slowly slip away because of his own shit actions.
“Do you know why I don’t want to go to McCann?”
“Because you can’t work for anyone else.”
“No.. because there are people out there who buy things, people like you and me, and then something happened. Something terrible.. and the way that they saw themselves is gone. And no one understands that.. but you do. And that’s very valuable.”
“Is it?”
“With you, or without you, I am moving on. And I don’t know if I can do it alone.. will you help me?”
“What if I say no? You’ll never speak to me again..”
“No. I will spend the rest of my life trying to hire you.”
That’s how you get Peggy on board, Don. Gotta be genuine. He knows they are alike; they’ve both had experiences that set them apart from the crowd, that make them see the world a little differently as a result. He understands and appreciates Peggy, and he manages to salvage their relationship in that moment.
Watching all of this come together is nothing short of magic. Getting the old team back together (with Joan!), albeit pared down, is done in a series of jazzy sequences like those of a good heist flick. This entire season has shown some very strained relationships at Sterling Cooper, making this reunion and these character reconciliations have real weight.
As everyone sits down to sandwiches via Trudy, Don rings Betty; the tone is entirely different from the last time they talked. He’s apologetic and an actual human person, emphasising that he won’t fight her in the divorce. He hopes she gets what she’s always wanted, the fulfillment and emotional support he completely failed to provide. Looks like that jab about valuing relationships really sank in.
“Good morning! Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, how may I help you?”
Will the future be better than the past like Roy Orbison croons in the closing scenes? Here’s hoping. Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce will assuredly be a different agency with a forward-thinking point of view; after all, it’s a pivotal moment of the 1960s.. it’s time to get on with it.
That’s all for 2016 here! I’ll resume with Season 4 posts in the New Year.. and here’s hoping 2017 is less of a fucking dumpster fire. Check out what I’ve written here Mad Men-wise thus far.. and thank you all so much for reading! Happy Christmas, Festivus, Hanukkah, and all that junk.
the MARS DEN 