#Monday Morning Commute
Look at Matty Murdock. Holding a balloon. While he looks up to Hey-Zeus Cristos for guidance, he strikes me as a Sisyphean hero. His approach to life smacks of Rieux from The Plague. When Rieux is asked if he knows what it means to be a doctor during plague time he responds, “a never ending defeat.” Yet he dusts himself off, and carries on. Much like Matty. Much like all of us amidst the Pointless Expanse’s Grind. We are all Sisyphus. We must all hold balloons. And so to make this all fit into a dumb package: this is Monday Morning Commute. A list of the metaphorical balloons I shall be holding onto this week, begging them to lift me above the malaise.
Please share your own!
Hello, True Believers! Degenerates! Booger Eaters! Slobs! Slovens! Functioning Human Beings! Individuals Excelling At Their Vocations! If you’re down with the Space-Ship, if you’re here by mistake, if you’re on the Fence and considering writing my Mother a strongly worded email. I want all of you! All of you to share what you’re up to this week. What’s getting you through the doldrums? This is Monday Morning Commute. And that’s the point of this column.
Welcome to Tuesday Afternoon Commute! It’s your Captain! Caff-Pow! Choo choo! I’m currently championing all rides aboard the Malaise Train. Here on the Malaise Train we have a vague feeling that things aren’t that bad but who cares when we’re just a collection of borrowed atoms and at best like seventy years away from dissolution? Yeah man I need to read some Camus, find the Absurdist Purpose, and rally. But until then I’m going to share what I’m “enjoying” this week as I stare dead-eyed at my Tumblr feed.
Share your own diggings, perhaps they can penetrate my perpetual pall.
It was a very special commute this Monday. The last Monday commute before I rock Spring Break next week! A commute suffused with the knowledge that a Siesta is approaching. A Siesta filled with much gaming, much reading, much much sleeping, and a little comic book convention (more on that next week), too. This is what I’m up to on this week before the Breaking of Spring, and I hope you share your travels, trials, tribulations, and titillations, as well.
It’s Monday. And the work week is beginning for the majority of this. The work weeks will begin for the majority of us, forever, until death or retirement. Which given the state of the Rotting Empire may or may not be available for all of us. In front of us: a wasteland. Or an oasis. Depending on how you approach the rolling of your rock. Do you embrace it? Modify it with personal creation, acts of enjoyment, and a collage of distractions? Or do you pound your fists futilely, condemning the Gods That Don’t Care for y/our fate?
Greetings, friends. Nihilism is exhausting. But so is commuting an hour-and-a-half every day, both ways. Just sitting in my goddamn car, staring at the brake lights of the Fellow Fools in front of me. I dream of many things, during those hours upon hours of weekly gridlock. Of video games I am looking forward to playing, of movies I am looking forward to seeing. Comics, books, and other distractions.
The yank my corporeal form through the thresher, these distractions. They shove my reluctant soul through the Monday Morning Commute. One week at a time.
I fucking hate February. I hate its ashen skies. I hate its frigid air. I particularly hate this February. Record setting amounts of snow. Unfathomable cold. And I guess I’m just not coping with it well. The Better Half is away and instead of being a productive, healthy member of It All, I’m ordering Domino’s Pizza and wondering if I can hack elastic bands into my overpriced Name Brand, Fancy Pants leg-warmers.
The February Funk must be conquered, though. Rode out to its logical conclusion, the hopefully more endurable Ides of March. And this is a list of the stuff I’m begging to help carry me through this week. The Monday Morning Commute, as they say.
Another Monday. Another snow day. The Frost God gives no fuck about the Northeast Corridor of the Empire. Week after week The Frostbitten-Fuck Deity has pummeled us, twisting our psychic-nipples and daring us to concede. There sure ain’t no fucking commuting going on for this guy. There sure ain’t no fucking classes being taught. But at least if the heat goes out, I can use all the syllabi I’ve printed out as fucking kindling. ‘Cause they sure aren’t representative of our semester progression any longer. Alas! Alack! And while there isn’t any shuffling to work today, there is the Abyss that is yet another day or two of Cabin Fever.
Here’s what I’m looking forward to and digging this week. Should I be able to leave the house. Should the power remain on.
What are you sweating over the next seven?
It is officially the fucking doldrums, yo. The Prole Bowl has come and gone (The Lords of Kobol are kind to me), and now darkness descends upon my sad, empty life. Oh sure I could stare even further into the Abyss what, with the White Noise of sports-based distraction shuffling back into the Miasma. But who wants that? Not this bro.
As you may or may not know, it’s the fucking Snowpocalypse here on the Northeastern Seaboard of the Empire. We ain’t fucking Commuting Anywhere! It’s the End Times! That’s what the media says! No worries. No sweat. I have serious provisions: four twelve-packs of Diet Dews. Five pounds of Laffy Taffy. A family-sized box of Chez-Its. And I have serious amounts of time on my hands, too. Multiple feet of snow coming in. Multiple miles-per-hour of serious wind. Probably ain’t going to teach again until Friday. So this is what I’m filling my week with. Both during the Snowpocalypse and after we dig out.