This work week ends with a bang and a whimper. BTW, TGIF.

I ponder whether I want to venture out to a theater tonight to watch the latest dreck from Hollywood. And no, the one I'm considering is probably not the movie you're all thinking about. Since The Mummy was borderline crap in its first iteration, why even think about bothering with the sequels? I'm thinking of a different (potential) piece of crap. This little bit might be a clue to people with very, very good memories: What is Bitscape's hypothetical axiom of movies?

I certainly intend to watch the next new Farscape. Last week ended with something very edge-of-your-seat, but I've already forgotten the details. (I haven't cancelled my cable subscription just yet. That phone call has an 80% chance of happening sometime next week.)

I ponder what other sorts of stupid shit I'm going to waste my time on this weekend. If I get energetic, I may make some content collective code hits. No promises though.

Did I just say "stupid shit"? I meant "worthwhile, life-enriching activities". Yeah.

I wish the libraries would stay open late on Friday and Saturday nights. But alas, they close early on those very days. I hereby declare a sigh.

[A moment of mental blockage, where there should be something to write, but nothing of value comes forth.]

Do you suck as much as I do? Do you write online articles about how you suck? Do you pontificate at length about how sucky everyone and everything in the world is?

I remember a time in the distant past when typing ramblings about shit seemed to have a theraputic effect. I'd start off, feeling rather consternated about something or other (or even nothing at all), and by the time I was finished typing it all out, I would feel better. Like I had reached some sort of peace about $it.

Lately though, that just hasn't been happening. I start typing, my brain clogs up, nothing gets resolved, and I often just hit a point where things just stop. Uncomfortably. I either cancel the rambling entirely (and nobody ever knows of its aborted existence), or I slop some haphazard, half-thought bullshit onto the end, and call it done. (The dissatisfaction caused by either of these outcomes makes me feel less like typing things in the future, which doesn't seem to help either.)

Could it be that the usefulness of this medium has finally run its course with me, and I am no longer at a point where I can successfully work out life's big questions by hashing it out here?

Well, sorry to end with a down vibe. Didn't really mean for that to happen. But this one too is going nowhere. And it's time for Farscape. Maybe that'll bring my spirits up.

[insert awkward, haphazard ending here.]