#Monday Morning Commute
Monday Morning Commute: The Next Node Over
The next node over the next node over >>
It’s Monday. The next node over the next node over >> This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where I run down a list of what I’m anticipating during a given week. The next node over the next node over >> This week? Eh, I don’t know. The next node over the next node over >> I’m still struggling to accept a world wherein the next four years are going to be lead by a God-Emperor Trump. The next node over the next node over >> I had a good weekend, hanging out with a good core of the Space-Ship Omega Crew. The next node over the next node over >> Drinking, eating, smoking, watching Arrival, eating, drinking, dancing.
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Tuesday Evening Commute: I Hate It Here
It’s Election Night in America. In fact since I’m tardy writing this (I’m always tardy writing this, this semester!), I’ve had the distinct pleasure of turning off Early Results, closing my Twitter, and instead retreating here. To what has been so admirably dubbed my Space-Oasis, the Space-Ship Omega.
Tuesday Evening Commute: Born Of The Bomb
It’s Tuesday, Tuesday Evening. I’m writing what was supposed to be Monday, Monday Morning Commute. The clock ticks towards quarter of 6pm, Eastern Seaboard of the Empire Standard. I have approximately 23 minutes to file this, to fart it, to fecal-blast this shinformation onto your digital face. Before! Before my next obligation. I’ve been wearing the same dress pants for ten hours, I’m tired, my caffeine levels are precariously low, and I have so much goddamn wood to chop before I sleep.
But I’m happy, happy to generate this minuscule bubble of textual diarrhea. This minuscule raft in the shitty seas of oblivion that seem to constitute this year, this 2016 A.D. Come friends, come quickly. Ignore my purple-headed boner, I merely have to pee. Come friends, come quickly. Ignore the wild look in eyes, I’m merely between my past caffeine fix and my next.
Come friends, come quickly. Join me on this raft, cling to it with me. Nay, cling to it for me.
This is Tuesday Evening Commute. This is what I’m looking forward to this week. Please, I implore, I beseech, I cajole. Please, join me in the comments section. Let me know what you’re indulging in this week.
Monday Morning Commute: You Are Always Home
Monday Night, another Monday Night. Less hectic than most, more hectic than some. But I’m here, and so I type, and so as I type the sands of time drain. Both towards the moment of imminent slumber, and the moment of eternal slumber, the eradication of order on a cellular level for one Ian Omega. What’s weird? On this autumnal night, less hectic than most, more hectic than some? What’s weird is that I fear the former more than the latter. The former brings the siren screech of an alarm clock, the latter brings at worst Nada and at best Something Else.
All of this is neither here nor there, though, neither here nor there.
For this right here is Monday Morning Commute.
Monday Morning Commute: I’m Broken! And Having A Good Time!
Another dosage of the Monday Blues antidote for you, fellow OL garbage folk! Right here! Right now!
The wind whispers of blood and ill intent! Monsters on podiums, clowns in streets!!! Tedium, tedium, tedium surrounds us! Our distractions betray us, but they’re all we have. Our politicians betray us, but they’re all we have! Our bodies betray us, but they’re all we have!
Feeling down? No worries!
Another dosage of the Monday Blues antidote for you, fellow OL garbage folk! Right here! Right now!
This is M-O-N-D-A-Y M-O-R-N-I-N-G C-O-M-M-U-T-E! And so long, so long as I continue to pump blood (HOT BLOOD) and suck wind (DRY WIND), I’ll be here. Commuting physically to the indoctrination clinic that I try and subvert. Commuting electronically to the space-oasis aboard Space-Ship OMEGA via the shuddering pipes of the I-N-T-E-R-N-E-T. Bringing you my own personal panoply, baked, shredded, and snorted, that gets me through a particular week. My distractions! My anticipations! Hark, we must stare at the Tube, the Screen, the Page. Lest we stare at the corners, at the shadows, at their encroachment.
Oh, Plato! I’ll take the fucking cave. Thanks for the fire. The sky outside is a dank pall, and the folks that gaze up at it find only horror. Yes, yes, I’ll take the fucking cave.
You know how this goes, oh, you know how this goes. Follow up my own weekly wanderings with your own assortment of distractions and existential deflections in the comments section.
Monday Morning Commute: You Are Here
A boom, boom, boom, let me hear you say the World is On Fire and All Effort to Correct Its Faults are Futile so Let’s Dance as the Palaces Burn!
Can I hear you say it? Are you saying it? Screaming it?
Screaming it as your white-knuckled rage is consuming you, screaming and screaming and screaming. Screaming as your throat rips, as your lungs burst, as your eyes dilate beyond capacity.
Can I hear you say it? Are you saying it? Screaming it?
Screaming it as your heart explodes, as your moment in time-space rips, as the Void collapses in, on, around, within you.
Can I hear you say it? Are you saying it? Screaming it?
No? You’re just sort of sitting at your computer? In your sweatpants? A thick, honeyed malaise slathered over you?
Hmm.
Me too.
So let’s embrace this rejection of the rejection together. Let’s share what we’re enjoying this week, these enjoyments specifically designed to keep us from screaming.
This is Monday Morning Commute.
Tuesday Afternoon Commute: There Will Be Blasé
The Sophists dance on the Funeral Pyres of Intellectualism, crafting arguments made of Fluff and Clickbait. The Cynics bark at the Low Hanging Fruit, crafting arguments made of Bitterness and Clickbait. The Virulent scream into the Faces of the Oppressed, crafting arguments encouraging them to sit down and enjoy it.
I stuff my face, refresh Tumblr, and welcome the Ennui.
I don’t consider myself a sophist, a cynic, or a virulent, mainly I’m just Tired.
Physically tired, after a trying few days. Mentally tired, after a trying few days.
I’m stuffed into dress clothes, unfortunately bulging with despair. I’m stuffed into dress, unfortunately (not) bulging with guts stuffed with junk food.
Welcome to the Grand Pall of MidSemester Ian!
There’s gotta be…I gotta be…Surely there are things for me to look forward to, this week. There’s gotta be…I gotta be…Surely there are things for enjoy, this week. Right? Right! Sure? Sure!
This is Tuesday Afternoon Commute. The tardy edition of Monday Morning Commute, where I list what I’m looking forward to across a given week.
Join me in the comments section. Raise my Spirits. Raise My Soul. Exhume my essence and use it to fight your foes in astral combat. I don’t give a fuck!
Monday Morning Commute: crap i forgot my keys
School kicks off tomorrow. My anxiety kicked off today. Worrying about my clothes being ironed. Worrying about tomorrow actually being the day school starts. Anxiety is a hell of a drug. Caffeine is a hell of a drug. Caffeine is a hell of a drug for Anxiety. The two of them hanging out in the dank halls of my bathroom-brain, jacking off one another. Caffeine telling Anxiety to make me sweat, make me fart, hand on Anxiety’s slick shaft. Anxiety telling Caffeine to tell me to just have a couple more cans of Pepsi Max, make me jitter, make me palpitate, hand on Caffeine’s slick shaft.
Monday Morning Commute: We are all Placeholders
in space | inkaxis
We are all placeholders, man. Temporary installments in a Temporary Universe. Brief iterations, brief organizations of atoms-molecules-matter, and we will all be gone before we know it. That’s fine, that’s cool, that’s whatever. It’s gotta be because it is. No complaints here.
While we’re here, while the Aflame Blue Globe is here, while the Universe is still hurtling towards Heat Death, why don’t we hang out, folks?
Hang out, here, in Monday Morning Commute. The weekly column where all of us Placeholders get together and share what we’re excited for during a given week.
What comic book is coming out that you’re sweating? What movie is dropping that you’re anticipating? What fetish website is getting your hard earned bucks and/or meagerly administered strokes? Sharing is caring, so show that you shant neglect me in the comments section.
Monday Morning Commute: As lonely as you let it be
SK3RTT | slimesunday
One of the things that has struck me, on this, my wife’s fourth day away on her current business trip, is how much time I used to spend alone. Reflecting back, graduate school was just hours upon hours of me by myself, stuck in a study. Staring at a computer screen. Reading works. Contemplating bullshit academic sophistry. And, of course, writing for Omega Level.
On this, my wife’s fourth day away on her current business trip, I think I understand why I wrote so much and so openly about my cock, balls, fluids, and all sorts of weird fetishes (I still do have, but no longer flaunt so openly).
Being alone does things to you, man.
Each of these days I’ve found myself soaked in a Diet Dew haze, my hands covered in failed-children and coconut Vaseline, a stupor of unwanted freedom for a countenance. The more I seem to caffeinate, the more trips to PornHub I make, the more concerned my dog looks as I stumble around the house with my underwear around my ankles and the paper towels eluding me, the more I understand my former-self.
My former-self is really just my current-self, but far more lonely, and with far too much time on his hands.
On this, my wife’s fourth day away on her current business trip, I think I should point out to you that she’s going to be gone for another ten out of fourteen days or so.
Buckle up, good friends, OverCaffeinatedCaffeinePowered is upon you.
This is Monday Morning Commute. This is the weekly column where I list what I’m up to during a given week. I hope you’ll share what you’re doing in the comments section below. I hope you’ll keep me company. For me. For my concerned dog. For my chaffed cock and balls and crusty t-shirts and my shattered sanity and my Diet Dew-fort and my anxiety.
