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By Amy Phillips Penn
“I’ve run into certain geniuses of individualism – they are very few and far between –
who live their lives completely on their own terms; they are very powerful and
have a great amount of happiness. We all should aspire to that.”
— David Duchovny


Californication meets NewYorkification, but with different ring tones.

You never know what you’re in for when you start watching a TV series. Prepare to go wild, binge, and rewind; bet you can’t watch just one.

Gotta love Californication: It’s sex, drugs, and rock and roll meets Hollywood rock legends — going, going, gone — rehab; billionaire rappers with artilleries that could blow up a series of their own; Hollywood agents who look and act like they’re made out of balding silly putty. Then there’s Duchovny’s very own messed up, yet highly seductive character, “Hank Moody.”

Moody, a writer, reluctantly moves from New York To L.A. (Hear ye, Hear ye, L.A. bashers!). The move messes with his main relationships: His daughter and her beyond gorgeous mother, who’s had it with him, depending on what day it is.

Moody moodily scubas deeper and deeper into writing block, does the Hemingway drinking thang, and is bombarded by sex with eager, over-waxed beauties of all shapes, sizes, and one colossal under-ager spelled “B-I-G f**ing M-I-S-T-AK-E.”

David Duchovny is, ‘hot.’ Double down. He is hot times New York, Collegiate, Yale, and Princeton, and that is a beyond sexy combo…scandals included.

The joys of Google. We no longer have to scheme or shadow our intentions when we indulge into someone’s life story. We simply enter cyberspace and erase any dubious evidence with a touch of “see ya.”

I had no idea that David Duchovny went to Collegiate. Why would I? I didn’t know that he existed until he made a powerful dent in my crush or crash zone.

There is something singular and often sultry in unraveling commonality-meets-the-unexpected. Having been lucky enough to go to New York private schools (Gossip Girl, not), there is an automatic sense of community, camaraderie, and “did you know so and so?” when we have a New York encounter of a close kind.

Digging deeper: David’s mother, Margaret, was a writer and publicist for the American Jewish Committee, and his way-back background is Polish and Ukrainian, which sounds enough like my own to feel closer to a man that is way more than a photogenic ‘come-hither.’

Duchovny was an English Lit major, and yes, he wrote poetry, and…he looks just like, David Duchovny. Sa-weet. My mind wanders. Did he write any of his characters words, morph into his character, like it, and embrace it? Does his mind sometimes wander into a more scholarly mode? Will he one day become a poet laureate or write a screenplay that will dazzle us with his New York and Ivy roots?

Yes, he’s sexy, maybe at times too much so for his own good: When Cupid’s arrow boings into the tech word, proof-read wisely.

Quasi-mesmerized in watching Californification on my iPad, I confidently multitasked, drafting a business email on my phone. Before committing to “Send,” I checked my message — it had more than doubled in size and a flurry of “f-bombs” had invaded my screen.

What the h? My phone was transcribing a few choice words from Californification, collaborating without my ok, right onto my email. Can’t explain that one, but love me, love my delete button.

David’s commercial for a Russian beer has gone viral, and is still on tap. “This is the country where I was born and raised. But there is another country, where I got my family name from. And sometimes I wonder: What if things turned out differently? What if I were Russian?” Duchovny muses in the video, posted to YouTube by the beer-maker.

He’s made it clear that beer’s one thing, but has given a colossal nyet to Russian politics.

Back to your roots Duchovny, and dasvidaniya for the memories.

He’s just one more reason to say, “I Love New York,” and raise a glass of Siberian Crown beer.

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