Lost Summer: Episode 16-17.
"Outlaws" & "...In Translation."
The fourth straight week of Lost Summer is upon us. We have much to discuss. Can you believe we’re already in the home stretch? I feel like I just got back!
Whadda friggin’ jerk I am. I disappear for three years, come back unannounced, drop 50,000 words on a 20-year old TV show in 40 days, and disappear back into the night. It wasn’t my intention, I swear. But motivation can arrive disguised as many different things, and you need to ride it wherever it takes you.
I like to write, and I have plenty to write about. That’s not the problem. It’s never about “content.” If I lived to be 200, I’d never be able to complete the list of unpublished essay ideas I have rotting away on external hard drives. I’m not saying any of it is “interesting” or “at all good,” but it’s there, and I hope to get around to everything at some point.
It’s also not a time issue, and I fully acknowledge my privilege here, even if there’s nothing to really acknowledge. I always have time to write. I had time to write when I was six. When the day job piles up, I write before work. When real life gets busy, I’ll write when I should be sleeping. When you make something a priority, you’ll have time for it. If you find you’re too busy with other things to sit down and write, it means those other things are more important to you than writing, and that’s just fine.
I guess my modern-day lapses in writing have more to do with motivation, although I hesitate to leave it at that. My only “motivation” to write is the act of Writing itself, which I’ve made a point to protect as such. I don’t have publishers and editors waiting on me. I don’t charge a penny for anything I write online, and I can’t imagine ever doing so. On the occasion I put out a book for purchase, I self-publish, take care of the upfront costs (no Kickstarter or preorders) and look to do no more than break even. This makes so many decisions so much easier for me; the sacrifices are incredibly minimal. I despise having to focus on the auxiliary stuff (promotion, engagement, etc.), and while I understand there’s an industry that hires people that will do that stuff for me, I, uh…I don’t want to. I don’t want to talk to anyone about anything, especially my solitary hobby. The first time someone says to me, “Hey, you should consider putting this out on Wednesday instead of Friday,” I swear to God I’ll quit and I’d die thinking I was right to do so.
Back in about 2007, things started going well for me on a popularity level- as much as the borderline-obscure popularity of a Humor blogger can go. I had enough of a base to publish a book, and the “blogger becomes author” leap was pretty new at the time. Most interview questions were asking me how I pulled it off, with the short answer being the (new at the time) rise of print-on-demand services and a Punk Rock, DIY hustle. My wife and I put out a record in 2001 when we were still in High School; that was worlds more difficult logistically than anything I ever did with my own work from that point forward. I self-published my first book, mailed copies from my basement and still felt like I had sold out for some reason. Probably because the very mention of financial gain was not part of my personal manifesto for creativity. An outdated thought, I know, but still important to me (and not so outdated at the time).
It was also around that time where I began soliciting advice from “real” writers that I knew. People who made their living writing. It seemed like something I ought to do, even though I sabotaged every freelance job I had ever been offered to that point because I immediately hated the rigidity of it. Nonetheless, I sought tips from these people, and the biggest one seemed to be some version of the following (I’m paraphrasing):
“I don’t like to write. I like having written.”
The professional philosophy being that, with writing being the day job, it be treated as such. The process sucks. The deadlines and the editors equally awful. But when you hit that Publish button and walk away from the laptop, it’s all worth it, because you’ve done your job. This is what real Writers do, and that’s what I assumed I was supposed to be as I looked to level up in my career.
17 years later, and that advice still does not compute for me. If I’m being honest, it’s never computed for a second.
I. Like. Writing.
I like brainstorming jokes and punching ridiculous ideas into my iPhone notes and backspacing for minutes at a time and making my wife read the most unfunny shit she’s ever read in her life and attempt to edit it in a way that makes me seem vaguely coherent. The reason I like writing? Because it’s not my job. I’m certain I’ll never like my career as much as I like my hobbies, so making the one thing I enjoy my sole source of income seems like an express lane to ruining any shred of self-fulfilled happiness I could possibly glean out of this life.
For this reason, I don’t write for money (I have, and I didn’t like it), I don’t write for an editor (I have, and I didn’t like it) and I don’t writing for a living, because then what would I do for fun? If the barrier to entry for professional writing is to enjoy having written the most, then I choose to protect the thing I like at all costs. It’s quite literally not worth it. And hey, I’m not saying I’m good enough to make a living doing it. I’m saying I don’t care. We don’t get many things in life that make us truly happy, so when they come about you should cling to them like grim death instead of auctioning them off to some shitball aggregate site and hoping something else will come along to fill the void (pickleball, maybe?).
Can I tell you something you don’t know? I’ve never submitted a single query to a single literary agent once in my entire life. Oops, hang on; I take that back. In 1991 I submitted a short Horror story to Disney Adventures magazine. That abruptly ended my brush with the glossily-printed word (I’ll show that one to you someday). I’ve never even considered it. If I want to put a book out, I’ll just put the book out. What would be the additional motivation? Money and eyeballs? The ends don’t justify the means.
“Well then,” says the contrarian, “This has nothing to do with your love of writing and you know it. This is because you’re scared that you will fail. Or you already know you will fail. You know you won’t be able to make a living on it. You’re afraid of the criticism. You lack the drive and effort. Your talk of sanctity and boundaries is gussied-up language for being lazy, untalented and scared. Writers write when they don’t want to write. They also write stuff they don’t want to write, and they do an equally good job of both, because they are Writers. You sir, are not a Writer. And you can spin it as much as you want, but your only fear of selling out is that nobody will want to purchase what you’re selling, and that would kill you where you stood.”
…First of all, how dare you.
I’m just kidding. There’s likely a little truth to all of this. My ego’s gotten much smaller over the years, but I still don’t enjoy rejection. Also, I wouldn’t mind being popular, it just has to happen the way I want it to. But again, even if this is the actual case, I’m still where I want to be. What more do I want? I like to write, and I get to write whenever I want about whatever I want. I can’t invent ambition that doesn’t exist; this is all I want to do.
So yeah, don’t lie awake in bed thinking that ole’ Ryan Zeinert never achieved the success he so desperately sought. I’m right where I wanna be. Why were we talking about this again? Oh yeah, motivation!
As much as I enjoy writing, I’m still prone to falling in and out of writing spells, but I wouldn’t call it a Writer’s Block or purely motivational issue. It’s more like an athlete going back into the gym. I need a bootcamp to start re-flexing the old muscles and get back into fighting shape. And that’s exactly what Lost Summer is: A writing exercise to get me back to form.
You have an outline. You have a deadline. You have a format, all self-imposed. You start out rusty, but by the end of it you’re back on the horse and confident. The entire goal of Lost Summer is to write something ephemeral and (hopefully) funny to read, but ultimately it’s to get me prepared for my next big project by the time I’m done with it. And I gotta say, I think it’s working. I’m having a lot of fun, but I’m also ready to wrap Lost Summer and immediately get going on something I’ve been sidetracking for years. These episode reviews have done the trick, and I knew they would.
Wait…does this mean that, in a peculiar way, I enjoy having written more than writing?
Goddamnit. Let’s make with THE THICK & MEATY and stop being boring.
EPISODE 16: “OUTLAWS”
Flashback
As a child in 1976, Sawyer is placed under his bed by his mother. He hears a gunshot from outside the room. The door opens, and a man enters. Sawyer’s father then sits on his son’s bed and shoots himself. Happy Thanksgiving.
Years later in 2004, Sawyer enters a hotel room with a woman. They smooch (Sawyer loves smooching), but before they can continue, a man reveals himself. Sawyer recognizes him as the T-1000 Terminator and ushers the woman out. Sawyer threatens the intruder, due to some apparent history between the two. Hibbs (T-1000) explains he has found the “Real Mr. Sawyer,” the man who conned Sawyer’s parents and caused his father to shoot his mother and then himself. Hibbs tells Sawyer that the man, now named Frank Duckett, is in Australia. This has severely hampered Sawyer’s smoochfest.
Arriving in Australia armed with a gun (they call it a “heater” down under), Sawyer heads to a shrimp (prawn) stand where Duckett is working (yakka). He loads his gun and has a perfect opportunity to kill (zap) him, but after engaging in conversation with the man (having a fair suck of the sauce bottle), Sawyer finds he cannot go through with his plan (gone crook).
Sawyer heads to a bar (for a piss up) and meets Christian Shephard, whose electromagnetic attraction to the nearest pub is stronger than whatever Desmond was trying to contain in the Hatch. The two chat (have a gabbo) and Christian off-handedly says “That's why the Red Sox will never win the World Series.” He also talks about his son (Jack) who hates him, and that Christian is truly more proud of him than his son will ever know. Christian says one phone call to his son (give him the bell) could fix everything, but he is too pissweak to do it. Sawyer says that his business in Australia would ease his suffering, and Christian tells him to stop being a banana bender and take care of it already.
At night, torrential rain (mizzle) hits as Duckett puts out the trash (garbo). Sawyer watches him from his car (yoot) and pulls out his gun (rod). Sawyer walks over to Frank, says “Sawyer” and shoots him in the chest. Sawyer pulls out the letter he has carried since he was a child and begins to read it. However, as he says “Dear Mr. Sawyer,” Duckett’s response of “Who?” causes him to stop. Sawyer realizes that the T-1000 has lied to him; Duckett was merely in debt to Hibbs, and Hibbs tricked Sawyer into being his free mercenary. Before he dies (gets nicked), Frank’s last words are that “It’ll come back around.” A stunned Sawyer stares at what he has done, and he’s as cross as a frog on a griddle.
No more Australian slang, I promise. That well has gone as dry as a dead dingo’s donger.
On The Island
Sawyer wakes up to find a boar ransacking his tent. He chases it into the jungle, but before he returns he hears whispers. Among them are the faint words “It’ll come back around.” The boar has a megaphone and can speak English; just one of the many brilliant innovations from the Dharma Initiative.
In the jungle, Kate returns a gun to Jack that she had borrowed. Jack mentions there is just one gun left to get back, and Sawyer has it. Meanwhile, at the caves, Claire tells Charlie that she has started to remember things through dreams about him. Her attempts to reach out to him don't seem to work, however, as Charlie brushes off her offer of going for a walk together. Emptying a clip into a guy’s chest has that effect on people sometimes.
Kate catches up with Sawyer in the jungle, highlighting his inability to track the boar. She offers to help him in return for carte blanche, a blank check. If she wants anything from his stash in the future, she will get it, no questions asked. As night falls, the two make camp and Sawyer offers Kate some liquor if she will play a game of “I Never” with him. The two then ask each other a number of questions, revealing sensitive facts, such as that Kate was once married. The game ends as both drink when on the topic of “I never killed a man,” revealing that they both have. Sawyer says it looks like they have something in common after all. I understand it’s nitpicking, but this scene drives me nuts because of the excessive fake drinking and the amount of liquor in the bottles changing with every edit.
Sawyer and Kate manage to find the boar’s wallow and discover a baby hog. Sawyer waves the boar in the air to attract its parent, much to Kate’s disgust. She shouts for him to let the defenseless creature go, and on his refusal, she kicks his leg, causing him to trip and release the piglet. She tells him to find his own way home and walks away. Continuing his search, Sawyer finally comes face to face with the adult boar. He pulls out his gun, ready to shoot, but decides he cannot kill it. The similarities between the boar and Duckett in his past are not lost on Sawyer. Mostly the tusks.
At the beach, Charlie finds Claire, offering to take that walk with her. The two head off along the beach, as Charlie finally confronts his feelings about killing a man. Elsewhere, Jack is chopping wood when Sawyer arrives with his gun. He eventually hands it over, and when Jack says, “That’s why the Sox will never win the Series,” Sawyer remembers Christian saying the same thing in Australia. He realizes the son Christian spoke of was Jack, but says nothing. Sawyer’s done enough moments of clarity for one day.
EPISODE 17: “…IN TRANSLATION”
Flashback
Jin asks Mr. Paik for permission to marry Sun, his daughter. Mr. Paik asks about Jin's father, but Jin hesitates before saying he is dead. Mr. Paik then asks Jin to become an employee of Paik Heavy Industries as his personal “assistant.” Sun and Jin are then married. But before the honeymoon, Jin must devote six months to “management training.” Mostly typing and light collating. Sun is wary of this duty to her father.
Later, Jin is promoted to “special assistant,” and Mr. Paik personally gives him the task of communicating his displeasure to Byung Han, the Korean Secretary for Environmental Safety, over a recent factory closing by the agency. Han is terrified by Jin's appearance. When Jin simply tells him of Paik's displeasure and begins to leave, the man is overjoyed. He takes a Shar Pei puppy from his daughter and forces it on Jin. Man, if I had a nickel for every time a Korean guy gave me his daughter’s Shar Pei, I’d be eating nickel soup!
The next day, Sun prepares a fancy dinner for Jin, but Mr. Paik interrupts again. Jin must drive a man to Byung Han's house, where Jin will “be shown how to deliver a message.” Jin sees that the man plans to kill the secretary, and on arrival at Han's house, he rushes in ahead of the hitman. Jin beats Han in front of his family while the hitman looks on. Jin tells Han to open the factory the next day. He then walks out, telling the hitman Han “got the message.” He also helps himself to a Shar Pei on the way to the car.
Jin, bloody from the beating, goes home and heads straight for the bathroom. He begins to wash the blood from his suit. Sun questions him pointedly and slaps him. She leaves and Jin tries to continue his cleaning but stops and begins to weep as he stares in the mirror at himself.
Jin goes to visit his father, a simple fisherman. Jin confesses to having been ashamed of him, but his father embraces his long-estranged son. He then tells his father of his dilemma, and his father advises him to make his next project for Mr. Paik his last. “Go to America,” says the old man. “Save your marriage.”
On The Island
Jin scans the beach, looking for his wife. He sees her swimming in a bikini and rushes to cover her with a towel. They begin arguing loudly in Korean. Michael tries to break it up and Sun slaps him for his effort. Alone, Jin asks Sun if there is anything between her and Michael. Sun denies this. Sun then approaches Michael, seeking help. She tries to explain that the slap was meant to protect Michael from Jin's jealousy, but Michael will not listen, for Sun has ruptured his eardrum and he is now stone deaf.
Sun discusses Jin with Kate, who wonders how Jin could have changed from the tender husband Sun describes. They are distracted by the survivors running toward Michael's raft. It is on fire. When Michael sees Sun, he demands in English to know where Jin is. Sun will not answer, and Jack and Kate try to intervene. The survivors discuss the possibility of Jin having torched the raft. Sun finds Jin rifling through the medical supplies at the caves. His hands are burned. Agitated, Sun tells him that Michael was trying to get them off the Island. Jin is angry that Sun thinks he burned the raft and is defending Michael.
In the jungle, Sawyer attacks Jin and marches him back toward the beach. He delivers him to Michael, and the survivors gather around while Michael begins to interrogate Jin. Jin begins speaking Korean, and Michael demands that Sun translate. Sun is silent, and Michael slugs Jin again and again. Finally, Sun screams out in English for Michael to leave him alone, saying Jin didn't burn the raft. Everyone, including Jin, realizes Sun can speak English.
Sun explains that Jin's hands were burned as he was trying to put out the fire. Michael and Sawyer are still not convinced, but Locke has had enough. He points out what everyone continues to ignore; they are not alone on the Island. They continue to be attacked and abducted by these “other” people. Sun maintains Jin's innocence and will slap anyone who says otherwise.
The raft is a total loss. Michael begins to succumb to despair, but he sees Walt and stops. He promises Walt that they will build a better raft, and Walt promises to help his father. Meanwhile, Jin and Sun argue as Jin packs to move to the beach away from Sun. She tries to talk to him in Korean in an attempt to talk their growing problems out. Jin, however, thinks of his father's advice, and realizes that it is too late to save his own marriage.
As they play backgammon, Walt brags to Locke about Hurley owing him $83,000. Locke brings up the subject of fathers. He says that his own was “not cool.” He then asks Walt why he burned the raft. Walt confesses that he didn't want to move anymore; he likes the Island. Locke agrees.
The next day, on the beach, Jin approaches Michael, who is salvaging what he can from the wreck. Jin has bamboo and says a single English word to Michael: “Boat.”
“Raft,” Michael replies. “It’s not a boat. It’s a raft.”
Jin then knocks Michael unconscious. Smash cut, episode over.
This week was pretty top heavy, so let’s make with THE NUMBERS and call it a day.
4 - The Boston Red Sox won the World Series on October 27, 2004, about four months before this episode aired (February 16, 2005). Flight 815 crashed on September 22, 2004, meaning that while Jack Shephard would have known at this point that the Red Sox were likely playoff bound, he’d have no idea how the postseason would play out. When Jack says to Sawyer, “That’s why the Sox will never win the World Series,” it would have been Day 31 on the Island, or October 22, 2004. Game 1 of the World Series would have kicked off on October 23, 2004. Little timeline action for you, there.
8 - “...In Translation” was viewed by 19.49 million viewers, finishing in second place for the night among all major American networks behind American Idol. Don’t feel bad; that was the way it was for everyone for about five straight years.
15 - “…In Translation” contains the first references to Hurley's lotto winnings. He bets money on backgammon with Walt and seems indifferent to the fact that he ends up owing Walt thousands of dollars. Additionally, the first time Jin is in the Korean politician's house, the scene cuts to the politician's daughter watching TV on which Hurley is shown on the news, presumably as part of the coverage of his winnings. In English, the Korean subtitle translates to "Lucky winner! Los Angeles California."
16 - In “Outlaws,” the woman Sawyer brings to his hotel is played by actress Brittany Perrineau, wife of Harold Perrineau, who plays Michael. Still married, too!
23 - This is the only Jin-centric flashback episode, with all others being Jin & Sun-centric (six total episodes). Even though the (eventually) lovable dude makes it deep into Season 6 (and the finale!), this is the only episode solely devoted to him.
42 - In the Season 3 episode “D.O.C.,” Juliet estimates the days on the Island showcased in “…In Translation” (Days 32-34) as the approximate date that Jin and Sun conceived. However, this episode shows the two of them on the outs and perhaps not even sleeping in the same quarters on the Island. Either Juliet was lying about the conception date and Ji Yeon is Jae Lee’s daughter from Sun’s pre-Island affair, or Jin & Sun enjoyed some makeup sex shortly after the raft was burned. I’ll assume the latter.
Thanks so much for reading. A reminder that Lost Summer returns on Friday with another three episode review. Sound off in the comments and enjoy your week.