Great Delicious Fuck! It feels like I just completely shazam’d my ass through the work week! Somehow, I’ve come out the other side with stunning alacrity. And now it’s the freakin’ Weekend, baby! Feels good. Feels so damn good, if I’m being honest. Every week of the remaining semester is going to be a white-knuckle, gripping-the-edge-of-the-clip type ride right up until May 12. But, by god, I’m doing it. Step by step and all that happy horseshit.
Enough about me, though. How are you doing, fellow members of the Space-Ship Omega?
Oh lord, here it we go again! Another installment of MMC during this motherfucking Groundhog’s Day-ass type fucking rolling nightmare! Hey! I suppose you can see how I’m doing during all this, eh? Seriously though, ups and downs. Ins and outs. Getting stoned and sulking, getting high and smiling. The semester is always a grind during this time of the year, and the Pandemic Multiplier has me flat-out exhausted. But, we must kick reason to the curb! And go beyond the impossible. It’s what Kamina would want, and we must not let Kamina down.
The mornings are the worst, though. As the waves of reality break upon my fractured psyche, and I realize that once again we’re in this bitch. As the day pushes forth, though, I find my mood lightening. The rituals take hold, the caffeine grips my nervous system, and I redouble my efforts to not eat my weight in pizza, keep up a workout routine, and get through the workday.
Jesus fucking Christ, I finally defeat The Hand on 1BC. I’m legitimately on the verge of relief-based tears here. And, I gotta confess. All I want to do is fucking destroy the Hand once again.
It’s the end of another work week for me, my friends. I’m privileged enough to be able to work from home, and I’m definitely not on the front lines of this pandemic. That said, holy fucking shit. I mean, I’m fucking exhausted. I thought I was going to dread the Spring semester ending. However, that fucking Nuclear Take has been revised. Not only is the Typical End of Semester Fatigue hitting, but it’s stacking with COVID-19 Anxiety and Figuring Out How To Teach From Home. This fucking trifecta?
It has me falling to my goddamn knees today and thanking my Lord and Savior JCVD for a temporary respite.
I’ve noticed as I get older, I’m more comfortable distilling my personal credos into easily digestible phrases. There’s a tendency to revere a certain opacity when it comes to philosophizing, but all of that balderdash can smeared across someone else’s shit sandwich. Instead, I prefer my touchstones to be accessible and to the point.
Be excellent to each other.
One must picture Sisyphus happy.
Existence precedes essence.
Goddamn it, you’ve got to be kind.
Buy a ticket, take the ride, motherfuckers! As HST says! Tune in, freak out, get beaten, motherfuckers! As HST says! Dust yourself off, stick your middle fingers to the limitless void, and stride forward defiantly, motherfuckers! As I say!
Additionally, let me note that it’s easier to stride forward as a rabid pack of monsters! And that’s what I’m looking forward to doing this weekend, with all you pricks! Sartre said hell is other people, but frankly, he also found deep, deep goodness in the guts of the human soul. So, if that dude can find such grace after surviving a concentration camp, surely I can find it among my genuine friends here on the Space-Ship Omega.
Goddamn, if I don’t feel like MacReady these days. Like, my body may very well lay in bed for eight hours every night. Maybe more! But, fuck me sideways. Whatever I’m engaging in certainly isn’t restful sleep. Probably getting in some good core workouts though, whilst I slumber. Motherfucking tossing! Motherfucking turning! Just fucking tired, man. And while I can wear my faithful baseball cap to cover my bedhead, I can’t hide these bags under my eyes from coworkers and students.
Eh, fuck it! It’s a pandemic. If bags under my eyes are the greatest of my physical concerns, I’ll jot myself down as blessed.
Anyways, this is Monday Morning Commute! You know the motherfucking drill! I’ll share what I’m partaking in, to distract and titillate myself. Then, you’ll join me in the comments. Sharing your own distractions, distinctions, and diatribes.
We’re all living within Dr. Fauci’s houseparty, baby! I got to say, fucking kudos to the absolute force of a man. Being able to persuade the Rotten Orange into issuing decrees (albiet tardily) that he clearly didn’t want to is impressive. Will he win the push for a federal lockdown? Who knows! But, dude has clearly persuaded most states into chilling at home. If I’m even half as cogent as dude is at the age of 79, I’ll consider if a flat-out, nipple-stiffening victory. As an aside, man, can you really contemplate what your nipples and genitals are going will like at that age? Fauci, though? I bet dude has huge balls, though. Cannonballs.