#Monday Morning Commute

Tuesday Afternoon Commute: A Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy

a-copy-of-a-copy-of-a-copy

I’m just fucking done, man.

The semester has unravelled my precariously knitted-together psyche, spooling it across the OMNIVERSE. If you’ve randomly tripped today, know that it was probably a shredded, knotted, bloodied-strand of my former-consciousness. What was formerly an ebullient, marginally sarcastic whelp has been transformed into a quick-to-fret, foggy-headed nightmare.

I’m just fucking done, man.

This here is Monday Morning Commute, by way of Tuesday Afternoon, sponsored by Ennui and A Colossal, Albeit Ineffective Amount of Caffeine.

This is what I’m looking forward to, this is what’s on my mind, this is what’s simmering in my soul, this week.

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Monday Morning Commute: As Cold As You Let It Be

As Cold As You Let It Be

Sweatpants, Diet Dew, a fire, a furry dog at my feet. Life ain’t bad, life ain’t bad generally. Going to keep this simple, on this simple evening. This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where we share what we’re up to during a particular week. The new movie we want to see. A comic book dropping on Wednesday we can’t wait to read. Et cetera et cetera et cetera. Going to keep this simple, on this simple evening.

I’ll go first, you’ll follow in the comments section. Fair? Fair. Fair!

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Monday Morning Commute: The Next Node Over

the next node over

The next node over the next node over >>

It’s Monday. The next node over the next node over >> This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where I run down a list of what I’m anticipating during a given week. The next node over the next node over >> This week? Eh, I don’t know. The next node over the next node over >> I’m still struggling to accept a world wherein the next four years are going to be lead by a God-Emperor Trump. The next node over the next node over >> I had a good weekend, hanging out with a good core of the Space-Ship Omega Crew. The next node over the next node over >> Drinking, eating, smoking, watching Arrival, eating, drinking, dancing.

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Tuesday Evening Commute: I Hate It Here

i-hate-it-here

It’s Election Night in America. In fact since I’m tardy writing this (I’m always tardy writing this, this semester!), I’ve had the distinct pleasure of turning off Early Results, closing my Twitter, and instead retreating here. To what has been so admirably dubbed my Space-Oasis, the Space-Ship Omega.

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Tuesday Evening Commute: Born Of The Bomb

born of the bomb

It’s Tuesday, Tuesday Evening. I’m writing what was supposed to be Monday, Monday Morning Commute. The clock ticks towards quarter of 6pm, Eastern Seaboard of the Empire Standard. I have approximately 23 minutes to file this, to fart it, to fecal-blast this shinformation onto your digital face. Before! Before my next obligation. I’ve been wearing the same dress pants for ten hours, I’m tired, my caffeine levels are precariously low, and I have so much goddamn wood to chop before I sleep.

But I’m happy, happy to generate this minuscule bubble of textual diarrhea. This minuscule raft in the shitty seas of oblivion that seem to constitute this year, this 2016 A.D. Come friends, come quickly. Ignore my purple-headed boner, I merely have to pee. Come friends, come quickly. Ignore the wild look in eyes, I’m merely between my past caffeine fix and my next.

Come friends, come quickly. Join me on this raft, cling to it with me. Nay, cling to it for me.

This is Tuesday Evening Commute. This is what I’m looking forward to this week. Please, I implore, I beseech, I cajole. Please, join me in the comments section. Let me know what you’re indulging in this week.

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Monday Morning Commute: You Are Always Home

Monday Morning Commute: You Are Always Home

Monday Night, another Monday Night. Less hectic than most, more hectic than some. But I’m here, and so I type, and so as I type the sands of time drain. Both towards the moment of imminent slumber, and the moment of eternal slumber, the eradication of order on a cellular level for one Ian Omega. What’s weird? On this autumnal night, less hectic than most, more hectic than some? What’s weird is that I fear the former more than the latter. The former brings the siren screech of an alarm clock, the latter brings at worst Nada and at best Something Else.

All of this is neither here nor there, though, neither here nor there.

For this right here is Monday Morning Commute.

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Monday Morning Commute: I’m Broken! And Having A Good Time!

i'm broken! and having a good time!

Another dosage of the Monday Blues antidote for you, fellow OL garbage folk! Right here! Right now!

The wind whispers of blood and ill intent! Monsters on podiums, clowns in streets!!! Tedium, tedium, tedium surrounds us! Our distractions betray us, but they’re all we have. Our politicians betray us, but they’re all we have! Our bodies betray us, but they’re all we have!

Feeling down? No worries!

Another dosage of the Monday Blues antidote for you, fellow OL garbage folk! Right here! Right now!

This is M-O-N-D-A-Y M-O-R-N-I-N-G C-O-M-M-U-T-E! And so long, so long as I continue to pump blood (HOT BLOOD) and suck wind (DRY WIND), I’ll be here. Commuting physically to the indoctrination clinic that I try and subvert. Commuting electronically to the space-oasis aboard Space-Ship OMEGA via the shuddering pipes of the I-N-T-E-R-N-E-T. Bringing you my own personal panoply, baked, shredded, and snorted, that gets me through a particular week. My distractions! My anticipations! Hark, we must stare at the Tube, the Screen, the Page. Lest we stare at the corners, at the shadows, at their encroachment.

Oh, Plato! I’ll take the fucking cave. Thanks for the fire. The sky outside is a dank pall, and the folks that gaze up at it find only horror. Yes, yes, I’ll take the fucking cave.

You know how this goes, oh, you know how this goes. Follow up my own weekly wanderings with your own assortment of distractions and existential deflections in the comments section.

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Monday Morning Commute: You Are Here

you are here

A boom, boom, boom, let me hear you say the World is On Fire and All Effort to Correct Its Faults are Futile so Let’s Dance as the Palaces Burn!

Can I hear you say it? Are you saying it? Screaming it?

Screaming it as your white-knuckled rage is consuming you, screaming and screaming and screaming. Screaming as your throat rips, as your lungs burst, as your eyes dilate beyond capacity.

Can I hear you say it? Are you saying it? Screaming it?

Screaming it as your heart explodes, as your moment in time-space rips, as the Void collapses in, on, around, within you.

Can I hear you say it? Are you saying it? Screaming it?

No? You’re just sort of sitting at your computer? In your sweatpants? A thick, honeyed malaise slathered over you?

Hmm.

Me too.

So let’s embrace this rejection of the rejection together. Let’s share what we’re enjoying this week, these enjoyments specifically designed to keep us from screaming.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

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Tuesday Afternoon Commute: There Will Be Blasé

bitch

The Sophists dance on the Funeral Pyres of Intellectualism, crafting arguments made of Fluff and Clickbait. The Cynics bark at the Low Hanging Fruit, crafting arguments made of Bitterness and Clickbait. The Virulent scream into the Faces of the Oppressed, crafting arguments encouraging them to sit down and enjoy it.

I stuff my face, refresh Tumblr, and welcome the Ennui.

I don’t consider myself a sophist, a cynic, or a virulent, mainly I’m just Tired.

Physically tired, after a trying few days. Mentally tired, after a trying few days.

I’m stuffed into dress clothes, unfortunately bulging with despair. I’m stuffed into dress, unfortunately (not) bulging with guts stuffed with junk food.

Welcome to the Grand Pall of MidSemester Ian!

There’s gotta be…I gotta be…Surely there are things for me to look forward to, this week. There’s gotta be…I gotta be…Surely there are things for enjoy, this week.  Right? Right! Sure? Sure!

This is Tuesday Afternoon Commute. The tardy edition of Monday Morning Commute, where I list what I’m looking forward to across a given week.

Join me in the comments section. Raise my Spirits. Raise My Soul. Exhume my essence and use it to fight your foes in astral combat. I don’t give a fuck!

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Monday Morning Commute: crap i forgot my keys

crap i forgot my keys

School kicks off tomorrow. My anxiety kicked off today. Worrying about my clothes being ironed. Worrying about tomorrow actually being the day school starts. Anxiety is a hell of a drug. Caffeine is a hell of a drug. Caffeine is a hell of a drug for Anxiety. The two of them hanging out in the dank halls of my bathroom-brain, jacking off one another. Caffeine telling Anxiety to make me sweat, make me fart, hand on Anxiety’s slick shaft. Anxiety telling Caffeine to tell me to just have a couple more cans of Pepsi Max, make me jitter, make me palpitate, hand on Caffeine’s slick shaft.

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