“Ain’t even close enough to get me where I need to go.”
Rodrigo scrutinized the cup in his hand, sighing at the fact that there weren’t even enough coins to cover the bottom. Four hours at this goddamn shuttle station, and he’d earned no more than two dollars in assorted change. Which was a shame considering the lengths to which he was going to elicit the goodwill of the ticket-wielder passengers. He’d offered up the absolute cream of his milky anecdotes, skimming off the grimiest details about the mission to Saturn that’d first dented his sanity.
Gravity-maladjustment brain-bubbles killing crew members. Robotic death camps. Radiation sickness. A three-vagina’d Siren that forced herself on him and bore a son he’d later kill with a curling iron.
But nobody believed Rodrigo.
At this point, he was a week without a shower and even further from a clean shave. His fingernails were the color of rust and his breath smelled of sushi prepared in a bathroom stall overflowing with excremental exuberance. It didn’t matter that he still wore the boots from the Saturn mission and held onto the remnants of his helmet, without his DigID Card no one’d ever believe that he was Rodrigo Graham.
To the people walking about the Deimos Interplanetary Shuttle Station, he was just another space urchin.
As such, Rodrigo begged for change and the they kept on walkin’, content to gaze into their brain-rot glo-screens for updates every nano of the second.
shuttledelays.rodrigograhammemorial. civilunrestonearth. honeydon’tforgettopickupaquartofsynthmilk. livenudesfordeadsouls. superbowlreturnstohomeplanet. brutalstormsravagevenutiancolony.
And those that glanced up long enough to see Rodrigo’s desperate lips jabbering about still couldn’t hear the pleas. How could they? They were deaf with sound, ear-chewing on the synthesized bubblegum audio that piped into their brains without reprieve.
Rodrigo Graham was a hero of a human race that’d lost its humanity.
Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! I’m going to detail some of the ways I’ll be getting excited about life during the next week. Then, you hit up the comments section and share your own strategies for defeating boredom!
Let’s do this!
Preppin’ For/Fan-Expo (Toronto)
August 23-26 are the dates for Toronto Fan-Expo, and OL will have a presence there. If you’re in the Toronto area, come on by and hang out with some crew members of Spaceship OL. We’re going to be hanging out, selling t-shirts, moving copies of OMNI with Allen Drinkwater, and doin’ some all-around nerd-talkin’. More or less, it’s going to be a live-action version of the positive-minded geek forum we try to present here.
It’s going to be a good time.
Lovin’/Old City Blues (Giannis Milonogiannis)
I first got hip to Giannis Milonogiannis when I checked out his work in the almighty PROPHET. However, after checking out Mr. Milonogiannis’ Old City Blues (per Caffeine Powered’s suggestion), I am now officially blown away. OCB is a bit of futuro-noir that thrusts a regular beat-cop into a tangled web digital media and consciousness and what it means to be a human. Also, there’re bad-ass mechs and plenty of fight scenes.
I’m keeping an eye on Giannis Milonogiannis.
If you’ve frequented OL for any length of time, you know that I love beer. Moreover, my favorite beers are those released during autumn, the pumpkin-brews and ciders and Octoberfest-themed potables that help welcome the crisp cool air. These are the beers that I think about all year long.
However, it’s only mid-August and I’m already seeing the autumn seasonals on the shelves at my local liquor marts. While I want to start enjoying these concoctions, I think it’s a bit premature. I mean, does a Sam Adams Octoberfest really compliment an 88-degree day? I think not.
So I’m going to wait until at least the first of September before I get autumnally lubricated.
So there you’ve had it – convention-preparations and comic books and not drinking beer.
What’re you doin’ this week?