Welcome, friends. This is Monday Morning Commute, the column that details the various music, movies, books, and general chicanery that we as a collective are basking in on a given week. I am currently typing this bad boy from the empty confines of a general writing workshop I run at State University Y. This lovely University that employs me is one of the few actually open in the greater Boston Area after this weekend’s blizzard, which means that I have trekked onto campus for one meager hour (all of my other students cancelled). None the less. What can we do? So I will make use of my time, penning this paean to to the things I dig.
It’s with a tearful eye and a hyper-extended thumbs-up that I bid farewell to 2012.
The last twelve months have been some of the finest of my entire life. And I’m not exaggerating. Unlike those saccharine slobs who always clamor about the present hour being their finest and the preceding moments nothing more than the bliss-steps to their existence plateaus, I have no illusions about the fact that I’ve chalked up some miserable years. I’ve anguished through entire calendars, burnin’ `em up with fuel of the most incendiary sort.
Self-doubt! Resentment! Apathy! Vitriol! Cynicism! Sally forth towards the mire!
But 2012 was a whole different beast. Sure, there definitely some moments when my nostrils were assailed by the wispy vapors of the aforementioned propellants. But repugnance was ultimately cast aside, overpowered by the surfeit of wonder! It’s almost as though entertainment and art and love formed a giant sword-wieldin’, monster-destroyin’ mech, and I got to pilot the son-of-a-bitch!
Anyways, it looks as though every crew member of Spaceship OL is delivering their year-end highlights, so I’m going to join the party. But since I’ve garnered a reputation as being the erratic, currently-undiagnosed-but-we’re-working-on-it, hack-writin’ resident of the crew, I’m going to switch things up a bit. Each of my highlights will be paired with an Ultra-Dimensional Portal! By clicking on any UDP, a hole will be punched in space-time, and your consciousness will be projected astrally.
Got it? Okay, here’s one last look at 2012!
Want to know how to have a whole mess of fun?
Hide your grandpa’s medicine. Steal it from wherever he keeps it, and then put it somewhere else. Ideally, you’re goin’ to want to go at least two rooms over. After all, geriatric hips are rustier than robot dongs. And remember, you’re aimin’ to maximize your entertainment.
For example, if Grampy’s bottle of pills rests on the bathroom sink, filch that motherfucker and bring it to your kitchen. Once there, turn the bottle upside down and open it up over your dog’s dish. There’s no joy quite like that of besprinkling Alpo with Valtrex. Then, while you’re waiting for your parent’s parent to discover just how badly he’s been goofed, stand guard so as to make sure that Fido doesn’t start snackin’ away.
After all, the dog didn’t do anything.
Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! I’m going to show you some of the ways I’ll be keeping myself entertained during the hellish stretch known as the workweek. Then, you hit up the comments section and describe the weapons you’ll be wielding against the 40-Houred Beast of Burden. Yes, this is essentially electronic show-and-tell.
And no, you may not be excused to go to the nurse. Everyone must participate.
C’mon, let’s do this!
After being dead for ten months, it feels amazing to walk the Earth again. To feel the carpet beneath my toes, to bear hug loved ones, to booze in the fellowship of my ka-tet. These are the moments that the universe is pushing us towards, the acknowledgment of those simple pleasures that can only be appreciated when our spirits and minds are where they’re supposed to be.
`Cause let me tell ya, there’s nothing worse than being a poltergeist. I’ve been there. Roaming about, looking for a place to say, nothing more than a broken spirit relegated to brief appearances and disruptive dispositions. I’ve been that figure that people’re surprised to see, and not always pleasantly so.
It might be a perfect way to be dead, but it’s no way to live.
Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! I’m going to show you some of the various ways I’ll be entertainin’ myself during the week. After scoping out my wares, it’s your task to make your presence known in the rumble pit known as the comments section. What movies, comics, beverages, albums, and activities are you lookin’ forward to rockin’?
Let’s do this!
Hevy Devy never fails to impress.
Even in the midst of rehearsing for the four-concert stint in which all of the DTP albums will be performed in their entirety, Devin Townsend is taking the time to entertain the fans. Devin’s set up his own Formspring specifically for the purpose of answering the questions of his admirers, knowing full-well the inanity and chaos he’s inviting.
Needless to say, sending Devin a mesage about American Transcendentalism and science fiction was an absolute no-brainer. Of course, I was as giddy as a chicken on Thanksgiving when I actually got a response! And apparently tickets to Ziltoidia do exist!
So, I’ll be shipping out to Ziltoid’s home-world any day now! See y’all muthafuggahs later!
Every morning I take two pills so that I don’t die.
Most mornings, I whiz through the first twenty minutes of consciousness on zombie-autopilot, totally unaware of what I’m doing. I know there’s some sort of routine at work, but I don’t actually think about it.
rub sleep out of eyes.stretch.take two pills so that I don’t die.pound yogurt.shower.brush teeth.dress myself.go to work.
By the time I’m cognizant of the surrounding world, my car is pulling into the parking lot. I get out of the driver’s seat, sigh, and then submit my soul for a work day’s worth of bondage.
But some mornings, because I’ve been interrupted in the middle of a REM cycle or an act of Providence has flown my way or the Omnidimensional Creator owes me a favor, I’m aware from the moment I awake. I take the time to think about what I’m doing, and the early-morning September mists amplify every emotion. Vanilla yogurt isn’t just sustenance, it’s an Earth-shattering flavor-quake. Brushing my teeth isn’t just a part of daily hygiene, it’s a rhythmic exercise. Taking two prescription pills isn’t just a health-choice, it’s a terrifying realization.
Every morning I take two pills so I don’t die. And when I think about it, I’m so fucking thankful to still be alive. My heart’s still pumping and my mouth’s still running, and I don’t want to waste this gift. So let’s take killer rips of black coffee, headbang to metal, and high-five one another as much as possible.
Step right up, folks! This ‘ere is the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, OL’s weekly feature in which I show you what I’ll be doing to survive until the weekend. After I run you through my entertainment gamut, you’re to hit up the comments section and show off your own articles of awesome.
It’s digital show-and-tell at its most abject.
Welcome back to MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE! By the time you read this, you’ll most likely have completed your first day of the workweek and will be primed for some solid entertainment. But not if you work the graveyard shift. Which is a bummer, unless you actually work at the graveyard, `cause then you get to meet zombies and mad scientists and packs of goth kids playing Ouija!
In any case, I’m going to give you the rundown on some of the shit that’ll be keeping my spirits high over the course of the next week. Your mission – should you choose to accept it – is to hit up the comments and show which sidearms you’ll be using in this workweek showdown.