It’s 10:30 am in the morning on Thursday, January 16th, and I’m slowly fading in and out of consciousness while I try to conserve my energy for college later in the day. With my current coursework schedule, I’m able to get a couple of extra hours of sleep on Thursdays as my classes start later than usual. I won’t be taking advantage of this however, as my brother has been ringing up my cell phone for the last 6 minutes, and the incessant vibrating pulse of my bed leads me to eventually answer. I ask him why he’s calling, and he tells me news I was unprepared for: David Lynch, director of famous films such as ‘Eraserhead‘ and ‘Blue Velvet’, and of the television series ‘Twin Peaks‘, had passed away at the age of 78.

I instantly realize why my brother called to tell me the news. Twin Peaks was one of our favorite joint viewing experiences, one that I had forced onto him around 2018 without giving him a chance to say no, and I enjoyed watching him become bewildered by the original series even as it fizzled out for him near the end. But he also knows how much the series means to me personally, alongside much of Lynch’s other works throughout his lengthy career and probably wanted to break the news to me sooner than later. Our conversation only lasted 40 seconds, but I couldn’t return to sleep after it, having become restless as a result.

I don’t think there’s much I can really say about David Lynch himself that others who knew him personally, or even those were fans of his work, haven’t already said throughout the past week. Everything about his work was phenomenal, and it’s influence both culturally and internationally can’t be understated. Twin Peaks in particular changed the course of television forever, with many shows being influenced by its unique narrative and visual style. Its release is what led to the shift in Television attempting to become more film-like in presentation and design.

Yet outside of his work, David Lynch carried himself in a matter that really made you feel like he understood what the meaning of art was. His views on art, paintings, and film were insightful, and I found myself being enchanted not just by his works, but the way he was as a human being more so. His unique view on art as a medium allowed him to bring the most painter-like qualities out of his film works. His passing has affected many, but most of all his family and friends, and I wish nothing but the best for them in this time of grief.

After the news of his passing broke, I spent some time in the afternoon looking back on his filmography. It was during this time that I realized despite many of his works being amongst my favorites, only one of those had remained a significant part of my life throughout: Twin Peaks, his collaborative television series with screenwriter Mark Frost.

In the last few days, I felt compelled to write a post about my own experience with Twin Peaks and how it has been a part of my life ever since I first viewed it. Rather than being a review or formal critique of the series, this is mostly a small personal journal that talks about the stages of my life I was in when I watched the series until the time of this writing. With that in mind, I hope you enjoy taking this trip down memory lane with me.

I first encountered Twin Peaks in August of 2012 at the age of 14, a short time after I had exited a summer relationship. In my youthful days I had felt that the world was out against me, having long dealt with anxious feelings and depressive tendencies which even today still cloud my heart. Desperately searching for anything that would act as a way to escape my emotions at the time, I stumbled across the box for the series on Netflix, where it had been recently added to its streaming service. I had heard of the show before in correlation to how it had inspired other works of fiction I enjoyed and decided to give it a shot under the assumption it would help ease my hurt.

As the show opens, a somber yet comforting musical piece accompanies a visual backdrop of a bird, a sawmill, a sign detailing the town’s population, and the Snoqualmie Falls waterfall located in Washington State. Transitioning away from the falls, Twin Peaks spends the next thirty minutes of its intro episode focusing on how the residents of the small town react to the news that 17-year-old Homecoming Queen Laura Palmer has been found murdered, her body wrapped in plastic and drifting along the water. This glimpse of the townsfolk’s reactions to Laura’s passing let us know how inter-connected she was to their lives and lays the groundwork for the rest of the series moving forward.

As I glimpsed deeper into the rabbit hole, I found an often-times erratic but very endearing look at the human aspects of small-town community living and of navigating loss and grief in the cycle of generational trauma. All of this was within the backdrop of the of a rainy, forestry Washington town, something that connected heavily with me as I have lived in the state my entire life. The foggy mornings, luscious greens, and constant overpowering rain are all things that have been a constant in my life, but it wasn’t until viewing Twin Peaks that I realized how outsiders from the state would be absolutely infatuated by these experiences.

As I watched the residents of Twin Peaks navigate their feelings on the loss of their beloved Laura Palmer, I felt like I was working through my own emotions regarding my break-up alongside them. I even found myself relating to the communal aspect of the series, having been a part of a small-town with tight-knit classrooms for most of my K-12 education. Many of the students had known each other since we were children, and in Twin Peaks I felt like I had found a show that really understood the idiosyncrasies of small-town life.

Around the second seasons release, Twin Peaks began suffering due to executives pushing Lynch and Frost into revealing the killer earlier than they desired. This decision alongside various other behind the scenes issues, such as the series air slot being changed, led to both men’s interest in continuing the series waning, sealing the series fate despite efforts to save it.

Even knowing about many of the series’ background issues, I still found myself being enchanted by the way each plot thread resolved. Even the lesser appreciated aspects of the series such as the interim between the killer’s reveal and the finale had managed to keep me satisfied and desiring more.

The series infamous cliffhanger finale had led me desiring anything more I could find, whether it continued the series or led me deeper into its verse. I found myself so in love with the setting and characters of Twin Peaks that I wanted another chance to peek into their lives, even as my school year was inching closer by the day. Merely a couple days later, I came across a DVD copy of the film prequel for the series, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, at my local library. Much more in-line with the rest of Lynch’s filmography going forward, Fire Walk with Me’s insightful glimpse into the final days and trauma of Laura Palmer’s life struck a chord with me.

No longer shacked by executive obligations, Lynch takes advantage of the both the film medium and his newfound creative freedom to create a look at Twin Peak’s that is much more grounded and subdued compared to the series. Whereas the series balanced it’s more somber undertones with comedic soap-opera tropes, Fire Walk with Me often-times feels like it’s snuffing out the residual embers of hope and happiness leftover from the series. The final forty minutes of the film in particular permeate the experience with an oppressively melancholic foray into sexual trauma. I doubt I will ever forget the look on Sheryl Lee’s face as she portrays Laura’s reaction to discovering who the person abusing her is.

Lynch and Frost had intended Fire Walk with Me to be the start of a film trilogy continuing the narrative of Twin Peaks, but the film financially underperformed and received mixed reviews due to its drastic tone shift compared to the series. As a result, future Twin Peaks projects were shelved once again, but its popularity and legacy continued to grow. Fire Walk with Me’s own reception would change over time as well, with many now considering the film amongst Lynch’s best works and one of the most memorable parts of the series.

Ever since I finished viewing them, Twin Peaks and Fire Walk with Me’s unique audio-visual design, shot composition and their personal small-town narrative have ingrained their shapes into my core and shaped what I enjoy in media. The series ethereal supernatural sequences in particular have always been a huge favorite of mine, and I tend to favor works that specialize in evoking the connection between interpersonal and spiritual. David Lynch and Mark Frost became two names I immediately wanted to learn more about, and over the next few years I found myself watching more of Lynch’s filmography, including his infamous ‘Dune‘ adaptation, and ‘Mulholland Drive‘, which I fell in love with for so many reasons akin to Twin Peaks.

Nearly two years later in October of 2014, the TV network Showtime had announced that they would be working with Lynch and Frost on a return season of Twin Peaks, initially set to release in 2016. Ironically however, it would actually release in 2017, 25 years after the release of Fire Walk with Me. Infamously, a scene from the final episode of the original Twin Peaks has a ghostly presence of Laura Palmer telling series protagonist Dale Cooper that she will “see him again in 25 years”. Sometimes life is a very funny thing.

In between my first viewing of Twin Peaks and its follow-ups official launch date of May 27th, 2017, the trajectory of my life had shifted significantly. A combination of depressive tendencies and my own frailties as a human lead to me isolating myself during freshmen year immediately after my viewing of Twin Peaks. Until the following May, I was essentially a shut-in and as a result many of my bonds formed in school had seemed to wither away. Another piece of media would help me throughout this section of my life, but those musings are best saved for another starry night.

In the summer of 2013, I crash coursed my entire freshmen years’ worth of schoolwork in 3 months so I could return to school for my sophomore year. At first many old friends and classmates had come to check up on me at the start of the year and catch me up to speed on their own lives. But as the year went on, I started feeling more and more distant from them than I had before. At the time I felt as if my insecurities from freshmen year were still keeping me away from them, but I lacked the motivation to continue pursuing these relationships and began keeping to myself more. Looking back, I never really got a long with all of them that much, but I wish I had tried a bit more to stay a part of their lives.

In Junior year, I applied and got accepted into a program called “Running Start”, where I did my first two years of college alongside my last two of high school. At the time, I had selected a business management major and later on a communications minor, thinking these would be avenues that would lead to success and allow me to feel mentally stimulated as I worked. As time went on however, I felt more and more disconnected from my coursework, but still pressed on anyways.

Balancing both college and high school was tumultuous experience, and what little free time I had typically went towards my own interests rather than social engagements. Eventually as I started prioritizing my college work, I began to fall out further with my longtime classmates and friends, many of whom were not in the program alongside me. I was also unable to fit into any new cliques at college due to a combination of my social anxiety and younger age compared to most students leading me to feel alienated from my peers. At the time, I didn’t think much of it and simply wanted to get through my courses, but once I had graduated high school, I felt like there was a hole in myself that I couldn’t fix.

Come May of 2017, I was 19 years old and on my third year of college, finding myself further dismissive of my choices in major and unhappy in my personal life. I was a month away from getting a foot surgery that would leave me spending much of my summer in bedrest, and the social isolation I felt during created a deeper sense of longing for those fleeting school relationships that had come and gone. Regretting the choices that I had made, I wanted so badly to return to school to experience a normal high school life, wanting a sense of community I could no longer have. As the opener for Twin Peaks continuation, now titled “Twin Peaks: The Return” grew closer, I became enthusiastic at the prospect of immersing myself back into the small-town that had enchanted me during hardships years 5 years prior. I wanted to return to same murder-mystery fueled zany-soap opera that had stolen my heart all those years ago.

The Return instead, like the rest of Lynch’s filmography, subverted my expectations wholly. Rather than creating a look at the town as if it hadn’t changed, Lynch offers us a glimpse at Twin Peaks through the lens of a melancholic and interpersonal film experience under the guise of an 18-episode television series. Balancing out an ensemble cast, Lynch shows us the long-term effects of communal loss and grieving, and how it has affected both returning characters and the new younger generation of Twin Peaks.

As the track “Shadow” by Chromatics plays during the end sequence of the second episode, I realized despite my reservations I was once again becoming slowly enchanted by Lynch and Frost’s vision. During the first 5 episodes, I had felt somewhat overwhelmed by the oppressive tone shift and missed the original series approach to narrative compared to The Return’s and Fire Walk with Me. Yet over the course of the shows airing, I found this mindset leaving my body, once again falling in love with its characters and visual identity. The airing of Part 8 was when my stance fully shifted: the series unique take on a backstory episode, primarily shot in black and white with surreal imagery and little dialogue, was so ethereal that I thought nobody other than Lynch could create an episode of TV that masterfully.

It was midway through the show when I really started understanding why the passage of time was so crucial to The Return’s identity, and why I felt so much of myself tearing apart as I pressed on. The passage of time comes for all humans, and even the residents of Twin Peaks could not stay the same as they were 25 years prior, having long been changed by the murders that happened in their town. In wanting the town to stay the same, I had been projecting my own regrets onto the series and desiring what little hope I had left to return to my high school years. But I knew that even if I had made a different choice, the reality was my friendships from that time were going to drift apart regardless, in no small part because all of us had changed significantly since our younger years. By the time Part 17 had aired, I had accepted that regardless of my decision, I could fondly look back on the years I spent with my classmates without reservation, even if I could never return to them and re-experience that time of my life again.

My viewing experience of the The Return was deeply personal, and to this day I can still visualize so many of the scenes in clear detail despite having not seen it since the series initial airing. Of all the works of TV I have ever seen, none have been able to evoke the same experience of genuine awestruck and bewilderment during The Return’s finale episode’s final stretch of minutes. I have massive respect for Lynch and Frost as a filmmaker’s for taking an extremely risky move in that episode and pressing ahead with it. Seeing the lives of both returning and new characters, including those outside of the main setting of Washington, was a weekly experience that has never been replicated for me in the nearly 8 years since the series aired. I am forever grateful to have The Return in this fashion, and I hope someday another piece of media elicits these same feelings inside of me.

After The Return finished airing, I would show my brother the original series of Twin Peaks in 2018, as a way for us to spend time together and as a break from another show we had been watching at the time. Watching his reaction to the quirkiness of the cast and surreal spiritualist moments was an experience like no other. I had thought my original viewing of the show would be most memorable, but the experience of showing something you love to someone you care about can’t be understated, and I found myself enjoying the series even more having been able to experience it with him. His interest waned after the Killer’s reveal, but we agreed to continue it after we returned and finished our other long-term viewing experience.

With Covid-19’s outbreak in 2020, my personal life grinded to a halt alongside progress in my degree. I took time to consider what path I had wanted to take in life, but my father’s health had taken a toll for the worst and much of my life for the next 3 years was dedicated to taking care of him while still thinking about my life choices.

When I returned to college in 2022, I took a teaching class on a whim having been reminded of many of my high school professors who helped me sort through my issues, including my English Professor, who had given me a space to talk about my passion for reading and share her own interests with me. I was hesitant at first to consider teaching as a career, especially as compared to business management the pay was significantly less. But I remembered watching a 2006 interview (David Lynch: The Idea Dictates Everything) where David Lynch had posited that “Filmmaking is not something you do as a career, but something you do because you love doing it.”, discussing his life and the struggles of getting Eraserhead made.

It was those types of thoughts which lead me to realize that regardless of pay, I just wanted to teach students about my passion while also supporting them in the same way my own teachers had supported me. My mother was initially unsupportive although she eventually came around, in contrast to my father who in a rare show of support was instantly ecstatic, having at one point been a former professor himself. I owe my current path in life to many people who have directly supported or inspired me, and David Lynch’s insightful words and his works have contributed significantly to that.

In March of 2024, roughly five months after my father’s passing, my brother and I agreed to make the trek to the Twede’s Cafe in North Bend, which serves as the location for the famous Double R diner in the series. We had gone to the neighboring Snoqualmie Falls several times, but neither of us had visited the diner yet despite our passion for the series. As I sat down watching him enjoy the famous cherry pie, I felt myself contemplating how much my life had changed since I was 14 when I first viewed the series. I still wrestle with depressive tendencies and social anxiety, but compared to adolescence my adulthood feels like it’s on the right path and not one of self-destruction. I had the apple pie there myself by the way. It was lovely, and I really want to go back again this year.

We had also gone to visit the Twin Peaks sign, but to our dismay found that it had been removed a couple of years prior. Not wanting to end our trip on a sour note, both of us agreed to take a hike at the Snoqualmie Falls, and on the way there I noticed the fog was encompassing most of the hills near the valley, and I made the decision to take the above photo while in the passenger seat of our car.

I have seen the waterfall at Snoqualmie serveral times in my life, but for the first time since I was a teenager it truly took my breath away. The overwhelming feeling of mist on my face alongside the oppressive beauty of the fog, all surrounded by the greenery of nature and the water’s beautiful hue, caused me to feel as if I had been transported to another spot in time. I wonder if this feeling is mutual for anybody who has lived in Washington for such a long time. But I imagine that even fans of Twin Peaks who make the trek to Washington to see the falls in person are this captivated by its beauty. Lynch’s work allowed us to see the beauty in rural America, and I’m grateful that so many people are in love with a landmark from my home.

With that, this personal reflection comes to a close. For those of you who have read this far, thank you so much for coming alongside this nightly journey of reminiscence with me. David Lynch may have passed on, but his legacy will always be inside those who he touched, whether as a friend, family member, or even fans of his filmography. I hope somewhere in the night sky he is resting peacefully and proud of his life. As for myself, I’ll probably revisit Blue Velvet after this writing, as it’s been some odd years since I viewed it. Feels like the right time.

as I lay down my pen, I search for that starlight vision…

Acknowledgments:

To Grunt: I know as of late we have spoken a lot less than we did before, but there is no one else who has been by my side more than you. Every interaction we have has always been special to me, and I cherish the countless hours we have spent together playing games and watching things together. More than anything, your input and help towards many projects of mine including this one has always been tremendously appreciated and words alone cannot express how much it means to me. You are absolutely fantastic at visual design and I hope one day I can create something as meaningful as what you have made for me in the past.
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To Sai: Thank you for reading an early draft of this piece when it was still just a few bullet points. Your advice helped me feel confident in not only my writing, but also in extending this piece into the length it is now. Your words of encouragement stuck with me throughout the entire process and always kept my spirits up, and without those words I would have never finished this piece.

I have nothing but the utmost respect for you, especially how you carry yourself online, and your appreciation means more to me than you’ll ever know. I hope one day I can give back to you in the same way.
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To Kiyo: I don’t know how much I can express my gratitude to you, even though we’ve only interacted briefly in the few months we’ve known each other. Whenever I ask you questions, you always offer me sound advice, and your personal attitude and your lovely streams have led me to try to become truer to myself, staying understanding and empathic of others rather than giving into a flow of complacency.

More than anything, your passion for your hobbies and writing greatly inspired me to the point where I even considered creating this blog to begin, and I am always enthralled when you talk about your interests. Your words of encouragement genuinely mean so much to me. I am so grateful to have met you, and I hope someday I can return the favor.
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Thank you all so much for everything. Til we meet again, on the starlit sea…