Monday Morning Commute: Goddamn `98

I could’ve sworn I filled the tank.

I mean, if I was goin’ to risk my life time-travelin’, the best false sense of security I could’ve had would’ve been having enough fuel. As such, I spent countless weeks double-checking my math, the calculations whirring around around my mindscape even as I slept. The formula for post-temporal diesel was arcane knowledge, and if I wanted to concoct it myself I’d have to be super careful.

And when I finally felt that the arithmetic lined up, I got a big `ole metal barrel and mixed the ingredients:

– 1/2 gallon of gasoline
– 20 ounces of Pepsi Max
– 3 gallons of liquid zebra feces (grassfed animals only)
– 1/2 hour’s worth of tears

When the sludge was uniform in color (and pleasant to the taste), I poured it into the Toast-R-Oven I’d outfitted as the energy converter. I plugged in the converter, took a whiff of paint thinner, and then hopped into my combination broom closet/time machine.

I closed my eyes. Waited. Exited.

And here I am, trapped in the year 1998. Ugh. If the 1990s were an orgy, `98 would be the unwashed hippie who’s shown up despite having never received an invitation and hopin’ that some cooze grants poon-access to his scabby semen-dispenser. 1998 brandishes neither the novelty of the earlier 90s nor the enthusiasm of the turn-of-the-century. And yet it still cries for attention, hoping and pleading and wishing that someone will give a fuck.

I could’ve sworn I filled the tank. Next time I’ll check more carefully.


Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE. I’m going to present semi-coherence in the hopes that you’ll validate my role as a member of Team Omega-Level. In the process, I’ll detail the various ways I’ll be keeping myself entertained. Fuck human tragedy, let’s all have a swell time!

Your mission – if you’re as brazen as you wished your prom date thought you were – is to hit up the comments section and share the bits and pieces of fun-debris that you’ll be sifting through this workweek.

Let’s dance.


Readin’/DRIVEN (James Sallis)

With DRIVE being my favorite film of 2011, I felt that I owed it to myself to check out the source material. To my delight, James Sallis’ novel of the same name was also incredibly enjoyable, if in a slightly different way. Whereas Refn creates a world urbanity and neon splendor for Ryan Gosling’s Driver, Sallis keeps his tale much more tethered to the staples of crime noir. Instead of highlighting the all-too-unreal cityscape of Los Angeles, Sallis presents the grit and dirt and dust of death in the desert.

It’s gorgeous.

This week, the tale of the Driver continues with the release of DRIVEN. I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers about this sequel, but from what I can gather it sees our antihero being dragged right back into the very world he’d tried to escape. Typical sequel fodder, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. If this book is anything like its predecessor, it’ll be a violent, beautiful, page-turnin’ experience.


Easing My Way Back Into/The Dark Tower Series

If you read Stephen King’s Dark Tower Series and hated the ending, I don’t blame you. The final installment of this seven-book series wrapped up things haphazardly, killing off fan-favorites with lackluster deaths and not really knowing how to end. After having dedicated so much time to venturing through thousands of pages, it would’ve been nice to have ended on a perfect note.

However, if the ending of The Dark Tower made you wish you’d never read the series, we’re going to have to agree to disagree. In spite of a conclusion that is more akin to an ice-water ballsack-washin’ than a deep-thrustin’ climax, these seven books are goddamn incredible. King spins a yarn that guides some incredible characters through the stuff of my nerd-dreams: fantasy, western, romance, science fiction, bromance, horror, meta-fiction, buddy-story.

Roland’s quest for the Dark Tower became my quest for imaginative expansion.

Later this month, King will be releasing The Wind Through the Keyhole, a side-story set between the fourth and fifth books of the series. To get myself amped, I’m going to begin re-immersing myself in Mid-World. While I’d like to read Wizard and Glass beforehand, I’m not so sure I’ll time. As such, I’ve started reading The Little Sisters of Eluria, a novella that takes place before the events of the first installment.

When I first heard that a new Dark Tower book was coming out, I was mad. Angry at King for cash-grabbin’. But then I started thinking about how much fucking fun I had reading about Roland and Jake and Eddie and Susannah and Oy…

And I remembered that ka is a wheel.


Eatin’/Cadbury Creme Eggs

I’m not religious. I don’t believe in the Beardy Son-God and I don’t care if he got murdered and came back as a zombie. There’re lots of zombies hangin’ out these days, and I don’t want to be around any of `em.

Even Rob.

But what I do believe in are the curative powers of the Cadbury Creme Egg. You can bet your bottom dollar that when I wake up on Easter, I’m going to immediately start stuffing my face with the cream-filled chocolate eggs. Oh, it always goes the same way – I eat five in a row, feel sick, swear them off for ten minutes, and then go back for more.

It’s an addiction that I indulge once a year.


So that’s my week – crime noir, epic fantasy, and candy.

What’s your week lookin’ like?