Last night, I met Walter White, I watched the final episode of “Breaking Bad.” I am familiar with the story line I’ve seen some videos from previous shows. I have come to see in recent years – doctors have helped me with this  – to accept that I have the gift of autism, it is perhaps the source of my creative drive. I cannot imagine watching five years worth of “Breaking Bad.” I could never spend an evening doing that, I would jump right out of my skin. I am good at absorbing things quickly, and I loved the idea of coming to this series fresh, with a clean perspective.

I was trying to explain this to my daughter last night, who disapproved so much of my approach to watching a series that she refused to recommend any good cable shows unless I promised to download them all on Netflix and watch them from the beginning. Maria and I have not had a TV these past few years, we just got a small 22″ Samsung a month ago, and we are sniffing around carefully, watching an occasional movie on weekends.

But when something strikes as deep a chord as this series did, I want to see it, feel it, get a sense of it. I love popular culture, it is important to me to understand it, not flee from it, Walter White’s story has been whispering to me for months, online, in conversations, in snippets of things I see and read. I think many more people in America were thinking of Walter White this morning than Ted Cruz or Harry Reid.

This story was about real life, Washington is about life on the moon.

Maria does not share this particular curiosity, she went upstairs with Frieda to read the new Alice Hoffman novel, I sat with Red and Lenore, and feel into a trance watching this brilliant production. I loved this episode, I am very much struck by this Chekhov, or perhaps Shakespearean drama. Water White reminds me of many of the great and enduring myth narratives, from Dracula to Batman – the divided man, part good, part monster, struggling for his soul in a brutal and often disconnected world. This is an old story brought into a new time, a tale of metamorphosis and myth – the chemistry teacher is stricken with cancer, vanishes to become a brilliant and ruthless drug kingpin, ostensibly to provide for his family, all of whom come to hate and reject him, and thus the loving and good man  becomes the monster.

I did not really need a score of episodes to get the drift, I got it right away, and loved it right away, was transfixed by it. This is a story that reflects all of us, I think, we all struggle with our good and bad selves, just on a lesser scale, and without such gifted screen writers and directors. I think this is the story we all carry in our minds about ourselves, the great mystery of human beings, their capacity for great good and horrendous evil. Who has not struggled with the good and the bad inside of us?

In our culture, there is great pressure to appear to be perfect, people do not show their divided selves, Walter White actually came to find peace in his final days. He began as a family man, and ended as a family men, that thread seem to transcend his metamorphosis from good to evil. I started rooting for him from the first minute, and was rooting for him still at the end. In his own way, he was truer to himself than most of the people I have known in my life. He was desperate to leave his family secure and  intact, it was never far from his mind. It is something we all desperately want, something many of us cannot have or offer.

I understand that people will be upset with me for not plunging into the pond head first and following the series from the beginning. We all have our ways of doing things, mine works for me.

Towards the end, White manages to sneak into his once  happy home to say goodbye to his wife and get a last look at his sleeping young daughter – another very piercing moment. Susan warns him not to claim that he turned to evil for the good of his family, that he did it all for them. In a moment of almost Biblical authenticity, this man turned devil says “I did it for me. I liked it. I was alive.” He got me right there, that was great writing in our time of faux sensitivity and public posturing, the monster is able to be more honest than the congressman or the priest.

The show stirred me up creatively, after it was over I read Julian Barnes very powerful new book, an exploration of photography, ballooning and grief, “Levels Of Life,” and then I went to the computer to blog about grief and grieving.

I looked in my big Apple monitor, and I saw Walter White’s reflection staring right back at me. He was in my head and is there still. I didn’t get to bed until well after midnight, and I can’t say much more about any story than that.