I'm in New Jersey with my family. I saw Friday the 13th because I wanted to hang out with my brother, and felt a little depressed because (well, my brother and I were talking about my love life anyway, which depresses me) but I just watched that movie and was like, "Wow, I could write something about a billion times better and with more care and it will NEVER be as popular as this piece of shit." Not that I expect quality from a Jason film, but sheesh ...

I want to do something productive. Or read something good, but I was an idiot and all my unread books are back in Delaware. Well, except Bloody Bones, but I'm not in the mood for Anita Blake right now.

I could start the second part of my fanfic, but my brother made me feel a little guilty about not working on original stuff. I don't know WHY, as after the movie he was telling me that it would be super awesome if the next installment of the Friday series was Hunting Jason Voorhees. (I also posited a scenario where a bunch of corrupt businessmen go to Camp Crystal Lake to try to turn it into a resort and get killed while they're banging their secretaries. It could be a satire about the real meaning of the series. I don't think he was as fond of it, though.)

So, um ... yeah, blah.

Oh, and brother alerted me to the TV talking about Charles Dickens' ghost. I don't know. The Dickens house didn't feel haunted. He may be in the Rochester graveyard, though. I can see that.
This shit ain't fair!

I never watched his show with the regularity I wanted, but the few times I saw him, I admired him. He felt like the only real journalist on TV and whenever I thought about the bad state of journalism in college, I'd remember him and think there was at least one good one out there. Even when he wasn't perfect, he was someone to look up to.

And now he's gone. It's just not fair. At least the cause of death makes sense, unlike Mike Weringo's earlier this year but ... man, this doesn't give me hope for the future at all.


quietprofanity: (Default)


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