#Monday Morning Commute
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.
I slept like a motherfucker Friday evening, friends. Or should I say, about 3 am on Saturday morning until 11:30 or so. By God, could I finally be relaxing? I mean, I ain’t been sleeping at all during this Rolling Nightmare. But, I think with the semester ending and myself accepting the homeostasis of such, I’m relaxing a bit. Fuck, I hope so! Maybe it’s a one-off, but I’m hoping for an emergent theme.
Anyways, I’m hanging in there. Can’t really complain, all things considered. Got my (physical) health, a tenuous grasp on my (mental) health, and I enjoy hanging out with you little fuckers.
You know the goddamn drill with this column, you really do! Unless you’ve just stumbled across this Monument to Madness! In which case, I’ll let you know. This is Monday Morning Commute! Every week, us depraved denizens of the Space-Ship gather! Then, we shoot the shit about what we’re up to on a given week. The books we’re reading! The genitals we’re manipulating! The games we’re playing. Anything and everything!
And per usual, I’ll go first.
Hard not to feel nostalgic, when the Planet is shuddered, and there’s nowhere to go, right? Also, hard not to feel nostalgic when I’m currently dong-deep in Final Fantasy 7 and classic horror movies, right? Anyways, I’m feel nostalgic as fuck, and old to boot. Nothing gets you thinking of the past like salivating over the remake of your favorite game of all time, and feeling the gravel in your elbows shift every time you try to do a tricep press.
Anyhoo, enough about my lachrymal, romanticized peering into my past! I’m stoked to spend the present with you folks, right here! In the latest edition of Monday Morning Commute! You know, the weekly gathering where we, uh, gather, and share what we’re up to!
I’ll go first, but lord, oh lord, I hope you’ll join me in the comments section!
Talking Heads lyrics fucking speaking to me today, man. How is life during the pandemic, this week? Same as it ever was. Alternatively, the title of the song those lyrics are from is also apropos. Once in a lifetime. ‘Cause fuck me, if we have to live through this goddamn trash a second time. And okay, I’m not counting some sort of recurrent wave that’s indubitably hitting this fall. I mean, like — when it’s done.
Another week has passed. Nothing has changed, at least for the better. More morons outside. Increasing death rates, increasing infection rates. Extending stay-at-home orders in my state. The mundanity and the madness trudges forward.
Same as it ever was. Same as it will be.
However, it ain’t all bad news, motherfuckers! Nope! Nope. In fact, yesterday I recorded my final “virtual” classes for my students. All that stands between the end of the semester and me is two weeks of grading, and Zoom sessions. Not bad. Not bad at all.
I have to say, I guess I’m not depressed today, though! Small victories. Day by day. How do I know? Well, I’m actually stoked for shit. And, I’d like to tell you what I’m stoked for, friends!
This is Monday Morning Commute!
You fuckin’ want one? Then meet me in the streets, brother! It’s pretty easy to find me. Follow the smell of sweaty gym balls (who fucking showers these days) until you see a goddamn calamity with a fierce mustache. Oh, you’re telling me you can’t go out into the streets? Because of a responsible respect for the quarantines across the globe? Well, count yourself lucky! ‘Cause I respect that. Instead, how about you hang the fuck out with me here at Monday Morning Commute.
In lieu of a fucking tilly, we can shoot the shit. Share what we’re delving into this week, in order to stave off boredom. Discuss what we’re smashing open across our synapses, in order to prevent the ever present sense of doom from fully consuming us.
I’ll go first, cause I started this dance. But, after you’re done checking out what I’m up to, I demand that you swing back.
It’s only fair!
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.
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.
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.
Hey, friends! Welcome to another edition of Monday Morning Commute, within the current pandemically painful climate! I must confess, these posts are a bit difficult to write as of late. Not that I don’t want to hang with you all — in fact, I think that may be the primary reason I churn them out at all. Rather, it’s just deeply, deeply difficult for me to concentrate on anything days. One minute I’ll be cruising along the highway of Vibe City, and the next I’m contemplating society, the health of my friends, and the health of my wife’s employment and my own. But, what the fuck can you do? Cave? No way! Instead, we must make like Rambo.
That’s right. Strip off our shirts, oil up our bodies, and launch explosive-tipped arrows at our malaise. Let our hair be as beautiful as him, and let our aim be as true.
I’ll go first! Join me in the comments.
It ain’t depression, friends! It’s COVID-19! And baby is it ever striking! I’m on Spring Break, but Spring Break during the apocalypse doesn’t really pop. You know? Everything is closed. Nothing to do. Except sit around, worry about my job, eat too much, and refresh /r/coronavirus. Not good! Not good at all.
As someone who needs the gym not just for his body, but for his mind, this is a bit of a tough stretch. As someone who needs social interaction and routine just to slathered together a dinted, but functioning psyche, this is a bit of a tough stretch.
Which is why I need you more than ever, my friends! To help me bask in the frivolity and distractions that we need to pad our lives with. Perhaps not solely bask in, but times like this prove more than ever, we need as humans.
Here’s what’s on my motherfucking mind this week, friends. The arts I’m embracing, the fears that are chasing, and other miscellany bullshit. I hope you’ll join me in the comments. ‘Cause, like, what the fuck else are you doing?
This is the Coronavirus Non-Commute, the really weird temporary off-shoot of Monday Morning Commute.