#Monday Morning Commute
We’re in the endgames now, my friends. With the crushing realization that the MCU As We Know It has about ten days left (less if you’ve seen the leaks), I’m beginning to descend into melancholic nostalgia. However, it isn’t just the MCU that’s wrapping things up. Nope! Johnny Wick‘s third and seemingly final adventure is right around the corner, and Game of Thrones‘ final season began on Sunday.
All three of those are reason for me to pause and mourn, but it ain’t all bad news. You see, I’m also staring at less than a month left in the semester. Won’t catch me crying over its demise, though. No way! No how!
Anyways, how the fuck are you? This is Monday Morning Commute. The column where we gather to share what we’re enjoying on a given week. As well, we babble about what’s dropping over the course of the next seven days that has us hype.
I’ll go first!
It’s Monday, motherfuckers! And, it’s dreary, and overcast here in the Northeastern arm of the Empire! So, I must confess. A bit of the banging of the doldrums going on over here. However let’s not wallow, right? Instead, let’s burn away the malaise with the throbbing (throbbing?), hot lights of excitement! Tell me what you’re enjoying and anticipating, here in the Monday Morning Commute!
I’ll go first!
Oh! I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me, huh? Oh, you didn’t? Just assumed I was in some sort of depressive, hermetic state? And that I’d emerge eventually, temporarily recharged? Well, fuck. You know me! Anyways, hey! Great to be here. Great to see you. Your teeth look wonderful, and your genitals look plump. Fantastic, fantastic! Anyways, I won’t belabor you much longer with this viciously verbose opening. Instead, I’ll pivot to the purpose of this here post, Monday Morning Commute!
To tell you what I’m enjoying lately. Be it active enjoyments, or portents of fun things on the horizon this week.
Then, per usual, I hope you’ll share your own warm-and-fuzzies in the comments section.
Hey! It’s Monday Morning Commute, on a Tuesday! Again! Man, truthfully? There ain’t much going on in my life right now. Just the humming doldrums of the post-Holiday, pre-Spring existence here in the Northeast. It’s cold! That’s whack. It’s getting lighter out earlier and earlier! That’s dope.
And the forthcoming notables?
They’re the various spectacles and testicles-tickling activities helping me make it through the ashen week.
I hope you’ll join me in the comments section, and let me know what you’re looking forward to this week. To be honest, I’m in a bit of a rut. So, I could use anything you can suggest. Hit me. Hit me!
Oh, we in the fucking Teeth of it now, friends.
At least here in the Northeast, and other sundry places currently eating Winter’s Shit. The teeth, you ask? The teeth, I shall explain. We have entered that interminable period after the holidays where it’s all snow, slush, and gloom. There are no holidays to look forward to. And while the days are getting longer once again, it’s hard to appreciate when it’s -13 with the fucking windchill.
Oh, we in the fucking Teeth of it now, friends.
But, at least we have our frivolities, right? And, isn’t that what Monday Morning Commute is all about? Sharing the frivolities we’re looking forward to on a given week, to get us through the grind?
It is, indeed!
I’ll go first.
The title is some shitty pun on the fact that we got too far to go this Winter, my dudes. Yeah, fuck me with a sideways plank, it’s brutal. But, what do you want out of me? I like Fargo, and I hate the Winter, and I’m just doing my best!
And man, do I fucking hate Winter. I used to stunt and pretend I enjoyed it. Alas, that fucking period has passed. Sure, sure, I enjoy the crisp air. And if the planet stopped melting for a moment to provide the Northeast with some snow, I’d enjoy too. But, what are the Lords currently offering me? Miserable, raw-ass rainy days and darkened evenings.
Anyways, how the fuck you doing? Me? I’m still in this liminal state between semesters. Where theoretically I’m on campus tutoring for the Winter session. However in reality? I’m staring at asses on Tumblr and writing up this wonderful little column.
It could be much, much worse, I admit. Plus, holy jizz cannoli, do I have a lot of things I’m currently enjoying.
Come, come. Follow my over-caffeinated, hunched ass into the dungeon. Check out what I’m sweating this week. Then, oh I implore you, let me know what you’re looking forward to over the next seven slivers of existence.
This is Monday Morning Commute!
As a headcase, a verifiable neurotic, a society-dwelling maniac, I often have mixed feelings about New Year’s Eve. Add to the fact that my life has thrown me some real curveballs over the last few years, and, well, I don’t necessarily always look forward to this evening.
There have been New Year’s Eves that I’ve felt absolutely breathless. I’ve watched that ball drop while struggling to not keel over, counting down while remaining unenthusiastic about walking the road in front of me. There have been New Year’s Eves where I’ve felt ravaged by the previous twelve months, like a sailor aboard the Pequod starting to understand the captain as madness incarnate. There have been New Year’s Eves where I’ve felt existentially disheveled, like a time traveler regaining consciousness only to realize that he’d hit a couple of extra buttons before launch.
I don’t exactly feel any of this right now.
Today, in this moment, I’ve got my breath – it’s slow and deep and thoughtful, and the cool air feels great on my hot lungs. The road in front of me, well, I have to admit that I can’t see too much of it at all. But what I can see looks inviting, or, at the very least, it doesn’t look too foreboding. I still feel like a sailor aboard the Pequod, but I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m on this goddamn voyage — there’s no wishing it away — so I’m going to do my best to help my fellow crewmates when the elements try to kill us or when that incorrigible captain thrusts us into danger, and I’m not going to forget about the simple pleasures of the saltwater breeze or the sunbeam precipitation. And, of course, I still feel like a time traveler, but as I look around I take solace in the fact that the lot of us, every single one of us who cruised at a time-speed of 365 days per Year, we’re all dusting off our trousers and exclaiming “That was wild!”
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I have no fucking clue what my life will be like next NYE. I have some guesses, but I’m not a gambling man so I’ll just keep them to myself. Instead, I’d like to offer my sincere hopes that you find the next year full of the good health, the great experiences, and the transcendent love that makes this thing called life worth it.
“Live long and prosper.”
Welcome to this year’s final MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!
When I’m at the helm of the MMC, it normally consists of me presenting some half-baked science fiction and then explaining what stuff I’ll be checking out in the next year.
But since the year ends today, I’m feeling reflective and speculative. So, now that you’ve slogged through my half-baked reflection, let’s think about what’s to come next — it could be for this upcoming week, month, or year.
Y’ever celebrate Christmas? Or Hanukkah? Boxing Day? Kwanzaa?
I’m bettin’ y’have, Dirt-Foot.
But what about Saturnalia? Y’ever get blasted on wine and orgy-bang until swollen and then check out a human sacrifice?
`Less I’m gettin’ y’ears through a time-tunnel, chances’re that y’never bowed before Saturn.
That, said, let’s s’pose y’actually have celebrated Saturnalia – where’d’y’do it? Poor folks, likely in a hovel w’rats scurryin’ in’n’out? Moneybags ‘mongst’ya, in th’actual Temple of Saturn?
That’s purdy cool.
But me? Where’m I celebratin’ Saturnalia this year? What’d’y’say if I told’y’that my mission brought me to Space Station Cronus, and I’m orbitin’ the sixth planet from the sun? What’d’y’say if I told y’that the boys already been loadin’ up on cheap terra-wine? What’d’y’say if I told y’that everyone chipped in to get a live-stream of the day’s NFL games and we’re aimin’ to gamble our ways into fortune? What’d’y’say if I told y’that we convinced Doc to order them good prescription horny-pills and we’re aimin’ to stink up the joint as we slide against each other?
What’d’y’say if I told you that even in the future the parties of the past prevail?
Well, if I was you – well, goddamn, I’d say “Happy Saturnalia, y’old son of a bitch!”
Welcome to the holiday edition of MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!
Now that you’ve read some of my sci-fi nonsense, it’s time to discuss what we’re all doing this week! Let’s share strategies for having a good (Yule) time!
“Runfer, what hell should we do? Runfer?!”
“Sorry, Harry! Goddamn crystal fragments in my eyes…gimme a readin’!”
“The lights’re blinkin’ red to blue to yellow.”
“Y’know what red to blue to yellow means?”
“Yeah, it means we’re down to two engines.”
“Right. And y’know what that means?”
“Other than the obvious?”
“It means that if we don’t muster up some serious elbow grease, there’s gonna be some serious blood on our hands.”
Runfer never thought he’d want to return to the job. Hell, who could blame him? Overseeing the engine room of Starforce One is a thankless nightmare. Everything’s perfect? No one notices. Anything’s wrong? Everyone notices.
And a situation like this? Engines blowing out? Smoke billowing all about? The very real possibility that the uncaring vacuum will tear the ship asunder?
The prospect is enough to prevent most men from ever even thinking about applying.
But Runfer wasn’t most men. He’d already retired. Twice. He’d already paid his dues, already done his duty, already decided he’d spend the rest of his days on a pleasure planet, getting rubdowns from his mistress. And nobody could’ve said shit.
So when Central Command called Runfer, desperate to replace the so-called prodigy whose chest pains got him medical’d less than a year into the gig, no one who knew him was surprised when he picked up the phone. And no one who’d worked with him was surprised when he was back aboard Starforce One the very next day.
`Cause some men will tell you that they just want to relax. They’ll jabber on about sleeping in late and drinking cocktails. They’ll declare fealty to Lord Relaxation. But when told there’re going to be fires to be put out and danger to run into, these goddamn maniacs lace up their boots and make room in their lungs for the smoke.
Two engines down, crystal shards cutting up his eyelids, and toxic fumes bathing over him, Runfer smiled the incorrigible smile of a goddamn maniac.
Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!
First, I toss a bit of drivel-fiction at you. Then, I show off what I’ll be doing throughout the week. Lastly, you hit up the comments section and share what you’ll be doing to survive the workweek.
You’ve either done this before or you’ll catch on quick — LET’S ROCK!