Well, people, it's finally happened: the wellspring of inspiration has run dry. I can't think of a damn thing to write about. And what's even more tragic is that this had to happen on the five month anniversary of Volume 22. I'd hoped to make it at least to the sixth month anniversary before I ran out of stupid things to write about. I even went shopping this morning, always a great way to find inspiration in the past, but nothing stood out. Even the stupid people who got on my nerves didn't inspire me. Failed even by own deep-rooted misanthropy. How sad. Maybe I'll get sued, win the lottery, or get attacked by raccoons and that will blast me out the doldrums. Dare to dream.