random heart bleating and the dumbstruck lament of sheep

i just watched Son of Rambow and i don't know what i think about it. it had this bizarre quirksomeness to it, intermingled with the type of hokesome (not to be confused with Hoke-some) sentimentality i usually find loathsome. it was like watching a three-legged mohawked puppy dog chasing its tail. but this is beside the point.

the point is that this is my last vacant Saturday night until next year, and the fact that i am alone at my apartment watching independent British cinema and blogging says far more about my relationship to this night than words could ever describe.