Next Week: Some shit may actually finally go down.
Until Then: Dan is super sad, Blair is super crazy, they are both fucking lost.
Or maybe it's this?
Fairchild: "He's still David Larrabee, and you're still the chauffeur's daughter. And you're still reaching for the moon."
Sabrina: "No, father. The moon is reaching for me."
Without a capacity for hope, with this show as with all things, there is no fierceness or boldness to be had, and thus no victory for anybody. So I'm going to keep counting on the latter, until one time I watch this show with a hangover and even grumpier mood than that represented here, and I end up just saying Fuck it, pace Ugly Betty and Doctor Who. Until then, XOXO and I'm sorry I am such a hater. Hopefully I'll be fully well by next time, and not enmired in a bunch of logistical nightmares. Hopefully the show will be better, also.
JACOB CLIFTON is a freelance writer and critic based in Austin, Texas. He currently recaps Gossip Girl, The Good Wife, Pretty Little Liars and True Blood for TWoP. Jacob can be found online at jacobclifton.com, on Twitter, and on Facebook. IRL work appears in BenBella's SmartPop series of anthologies, most recently A Friday Night Lights Companion and Fringe Science.