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Nothing is fetched, nothing phoned out. Every word on it is mine, set the way you would want to hold a sleeve and read the back.

Poster, cast, a trailer, the whole thing washed in the film's own colors.

What is left is the book as it would sit on a shelf, made from the handful of facts I bothered to write down.

It is my own brew log, laid out so the next cup can be the same cup, or the one that finally gets it right.

Plain text in, a shelf listing out. The one thing it cannot supply is whether the hours were worth it.

Give it a name, a country, the year they formed, and it will make you a card.

Network, hosts, how many episodes deep I am, the one line I wanted to keep.

This is the one card that does not trust me.

It is the Movies card's older sibling, working the same beat for television.

A bookmark that grew a face, out of the few lines I saved when I filed it.