Monday Morning Commute: Prayers Up!
I’m on vacation, but fuck I’m awful at enjoying it. Nothing says “I’m fucking crushing this relaxing thing” like waking up at 9:30 this morning, veins white-hot with irrational anxiety. But! I’m happy to say I have rallied since then. Took a two-mile walk, exercised a bit. Sucked in the rays from the Central Engine, and felt my rectum loosen just a bit. Just–a-bit. However, that’s better than nothing, right? And folks, good news.
I’m asking you to help loosen my rectum even further. That’s right, that’s right! Pull up a chair, and shoot the shit with me. Tell me what you’re looking forward to this week, and watch in glee-and-horror as the ole o-ring relaxes to a healthy sort of dour droop. I don’t ask for much, but I’m asking for this. Let us imbibe in the sweetened, honeyed nectar of community, together. And share in the experience of watching as he gets me where I need to be.
This is Monday Morning Commute.
Same ole, same ole, motherfuckers! Though, I’m happy to report that Bags and I defeated 2BC through the circuitous path that leads you through Conjunctivitis and the Giant in Dead Cells 2bc. Though as they say, pics or it didn’t happen. And I must admit that we did it Sunday evening, after watching AEW’s PPV, Double or Nothing. It wasn’t flawless, and so I’m hoping we put a special sizzle on your tits tomorrow night when we try. It’s a square fucking deal, guys. You loosen my rectum. I sizzle your tits.
Oh, also — still plodding along in Final Fantasy 7 Remake. I enjoy it, but my attention has been elsewhere lately, namely…
Let’s not pretend I’m reading anything other than King’s pandemic, okay? That said, I’m carrying along. Going to break the 500 page threshold today, and still really enjoying it. I must confess, nothing has really happened! And yet, I’m just taken in by the cast of characters, and their meanderings in a world filled with Hot Rot, the Anti-Christ, and motherfucking Stu Redman.
I think Bags and I are watching The Mechanic this weekend. Keeping that motherfucking Charles Bronson run alive. I have to confess, I have no idea why the dude is so charming. But, he simply got an allure to him. The disaffected tone, the slight lisp, the slight wisp of a mustache. I’m ready to watch him deal out ass-whuppings for as many movies are worth it.
Additionally, Eduardo/Andrew finally, finally got me to watch Coppola’s The Conversation last night, and I get it! What a fucking masterclass in movie making, and about subject matters that perpetually sizzle my tits. Conspiracies, surveillance, and paranoia. It’s equal parts quiet and tense, and beautifully shot like a motherfucker!
Speaking of conspiracies!
[Wind of Change]
I’m fucking struck by a recent podcast series that dropped called Wind of Change. Shit is about a Scorpion’s song by the same name, and it dives into a meaty conspiracy. Namely, that the tune was written by the CIA in an effort to accelerate the fall of the Berlin Wall. No, seriously. But, the series dives into a variety of CIA and spycraft-related shit, and that shit is deeply my jam as aforementioned. I’m only three episodes in, but I’m digging the fuck out of it. Well made, well researched, well, well, well.
Jesus Fuck, it’s looking like sports are really returning this summer. And whenever the puck drops or tip-off occurs, it will not be soon enough. I’m all for them pulling it off, if they can pull it off safely. And what a weird summer it’ll be, replacing the doldrums of late summer with some playoff action, just to give way to the best part of the year of them all: football.
Finally, television! I’m not really watching much of it! Sam and I finished off You S2 on Sunday, and it sort of sucks. Like, I knew it was slop, but they took slop and overlaid some really nonsensical character writing on top of it. However, we did start Watch We Do In The Shadows after polishing off that grimy bottle of mediocrity, and holy shit it’s fucking funny. Like, a television adaptation of such a preposterous show has no right being this good. But, it fucking is! I suppose it makes sense though, given Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement’s involved.
Anyways, that’s it for me, friends. Are your tits sizzling? Can ya do my rectum a solid (or perhaps more apropos, a loosen)? Let’s hang out.