#Monday Morning Commute
It’s true! My skeleton is my oldest house. Within its walls, do I ever haunt. The burbling, bubbling of a mad brain. The frenzied, arrhythmic horrors of an over-caffeinated heart. The creaky, laborious groans of a skeleton subjected to gravity, entropy, and exertion. Oh, does my soul walk these halls. Oh, do I ever haunt. This house, the oldest house, it treats me well.
The oldest house keeps my meat-processor protected from the elements, until it doesn’t.
The oldest house keeps my circuitry protected from the elements, until it doesn’t.
I don’t fault the oldest house for its failing, for when it fails to protect me. Or, when the piping gets clogged. Or, when the meat-processor over-heats, or short-circuits. After all, what house is infallible? Show me the lark selling that shanty, and I’ll show you a liar.
My house, the oldest house, isn’t perfect.
But it’s the house I’ve got, and it’s the house I’ll have, until I have no house no more.
I take reasonable care of it, and it takes reasonable care of me.
On certain days, we’d probably ask more out of one another, but for the most part we’re pretty happy. Which is good.
‘Cause it’s the house I’ve got, and it’s the house I’ll have, until I have no house no more.
This is Monday Morning Commute.
Holy cannoli, motherfuckers! I am back! Not only am I back, but I’m back with a little secret. I actually started this MMC last week, and then just sort of petered out. Yup, both the title and the image were forced in the stupidity of 7-days prior! But we all know the fucking truth, right? My stupidity is both eternal, and timeless. Seven days ain’t going to change that, nor really changed what I’m up to these days. Actually, that’s sort of a lie. Last week, Sam and I were in the continued thralls of Mother-in-Law mania, but it’s definitely cooled down since then. The general VIBE in the HOUSE OMEGA is far more relaxed now. Which is obviously a good thing, ’cause, you know, I feel mentally capable of writing something in this here WordProcessingUnit.
Anyways, enough of this fucking prologue, no? Let’s jump down into the happenings (the haps!) for the week! Then in the comments section you slugs better share what you’re up to in this week! It’s the pact we have made, we have sealed in blood and discussion of boobs and butts over the past 10+ years.
This is Monday Morning Commute, you motherfuckers!
Jesus fucking Christ, we made it to the end of this year. Congratulations if you’re reading this. The thresher may have ripped and torn at your nipples. Grinded and pulverized your soul. But you fucking made it, my dude! There’s a goddamn victory in that, even if your psyche is in tatters. May the next year give way to actual social events (albeit still mutated, sure), and a warm balm that may not heal the scar tissue, but soothe the soul.
We made it! Oh fucking thank the disaffected Eldritch Ones, we made it. So let’s celebrate that shit with one last Monday Morning Commute in this accursed year, no?
Tell me, what are you up to this holiday week! Are you cracking open a new video game? A new IPA? A new batch of wet wipes and grinding out one last batch of proto-children? Let’s celebrate the arts & farts one last time together, then help launch the engine that’ll shoot this year into the fucking sun.
Whelp, the end of the semester has arrived. Just in time to compliment last week’s news that my wife doesn’t have cancer! A really lovely double axe handle to 2020’s absolutely brutal ennui. For the first time in a while I’m sleeping again, smiling again, enjoying the general day-to-day existence. Of course, I’m still concerned that dickheads out there are partying as the Pandemic reaches its peak! Of course, I’m still concerned that a significant strand of the Republican Party has turned into a reality-denying sledgehammer that is attempting to split the head of democracy fully open.
But, but, hey. We aren’t going to be able to turn the entire ship around. Not this quickly, perhaps not at all. However, the changes in my personal life are enough to gloss the synapses a bit, and allow me to enjoy my time with my wife! With you fucks! And make the best out of a mutilated holiday season, sans physical contact with friends and family.
Thus my friends, let’s dance the dance of digital reverie! Hark! What are you up to this week? Hark! What are you enjoying this week? This is Monday Morning Commute.
Hey! You fucks! How are you all doing? During this week of Giving Thanks, amid the most rotten-ass year in memory? How are you all doing? During this week of a Blackest Friday, amid the most rotten-ass year of Fridays in memory? This guy? Truthfully, I’m fucking zonked, dude. My core feels hallowed out, and spread across the astral plane. I exist as a collection of core functions, shambling through the next couple of days. If I can make it to Thursday, I’m golden!
Then? On Thursday? I’m popping on a pair of joggers, pulling up a chair, and just fucking getting gluttonous. Consuming some Thanksgiving feast. Consuming some shitty movies with Bateman. Consuming some Spider-Man: Miles Morales.
I’m really just leaning into the concept of elastic waistbands and corpulence this week.
Tell me, what are your plans this week? Crushing some mashed potatoes? Crushing some Shadowlands? Crushing a backlog of comic books with your free time?
I want to know!
This is Monday Morning Commute, Thanksgiving Week Edition!
Seven years ago today, I wrote a Monday Morning Commute where I was getting excited for the PlayStation 4. It was titled “A Cascade of Nonsense” and captured how stoked I was! Now, I’m writing an MMC getting excited for the PlayStation 5. Mamma mia, right? This place has been around for a long, long time. And I’m glad it is, to serve as a community and a chronicling of my adventures and excitements.
Small comforts in big times, my friend. They’re the only way I’m navigating this minefield of civic unrest, worldwide sickness, and Zoom classrooms. For if we can’t find them, then what? Doom! Gloom! Madness!
So, I’m about to tell you what I’m excited for this week. Then, I hope you’ll hop into the comments section and give me your own run down.
This is Monday Morning Commute. On a Wednesday. Live from the Space-Ship Omega.
Let’s do this.
Welcome to Monday Morning Commute on Election Tuesday! I’ll tell you something, my friends. I had begun writing this column yesterday, and it was full of piss, vinegar, and a real fucking white-knuckled fist at the world. And, you know what? It was just exhausting, my dudes. I petered out after the first paragraph and called it quits. I just don’t have it in me to rage, rage, against the Dying Democracy. Instead, fuck it. I offer you this boon, this refuge from the insanity of the Outside Digiverse.
Now listen, I’m not saying to not care. Now listen, I’m not saying to not vote like your future queer daughter’s life depends on it. However, lost in 2020 is the need for self-care. For sure, i’s a privileged practiced. Everyone needs it, not everyone can attain it, and I care and have empathy for those less fortunate.
But, if you can spare a few minutes, hang out here at MMC with me. I can’t promise you anything other than my kindness, but I’m genuinely curious what you’re looking forward to in this Hellscape of a week. Okay, fuck, that was dark. Listen, I’m trying, but reality does penetrate me straight through the ass every once in a while.
I got my own collections of diversion, distractions, and diluting potions I’m imbibing this week. In fact, I’ll fucking tell you! Then follow-up in the comments with your own laundry list of pleasantries.
I love you all, this is Monday Morning Commute!
Happy Happy Halloween, Halloween, Halloween, motherfuckers! It’s Halloween tomorrow, and it’s fixing up to be a wild, weird, chaotic one just like all of this year. Today, we got motherfucking snow blasting our ass! Snow! October 30! Which makes me deeply glad I don’t have a commute this semester. Tomorrow! A COVID Halloween! Which means the usual coterie of parties and treat-giving is down to a mere simmer.
A weird year. A distance year. Apparently, a fucking snowy year.
However, that’s the glory of the Space-Ship Omega hurtling through the digiverse! Despite being separated by sickness and space-time, we can still spend this Halloween together here at the Open Bar!
This is the way, motherfuckers! Or at least, it seems to keep me going. Eating food, and basking in the delights of pop culture. Cause let me tell you, it’s rough sledding for this dude these days. Like, an actual thought I had this morning as I prepared to teach? At my computer desk? Again? I thought to myself, it feels like going back to prison.
Holy moly! What a fucking awful thought. A prison sentence, albeit with fellow inmates I enjoy. However, a prison sentence none the less. I hadn’t sat at the desk all weekend, and as I steeled myself to sit down, I realized how much I was dreading it. Right in the bubble guts. Right in the scrotum of my soul.
But, at least I can kick it with you fucks. And, at least there’s some shit I’m looking forward to this week. You know, the pop culture delights that’ll sustain me, as the weather unravels. As the days darken. So, I’m about to enumerate that bullshit for you, and I hope you’ll join me in the comments.
This is Monday Morning Commute!
Sometimes the end is an ugly, horrid affair. Other times, the end can be beautiful. Which is how I’d like to frame the onset of Autumn, you know? View it more as an excuse to get comfy, hunker down with some arts&farts, and wait out this COVID calamity. ‘Cause the other perspective? Is being shut-in for six months or so, separated from the Old Ways and the Distanced Friends. So, fuck! Let’s be positive about everything, right? Or at least try.
This here is Monday Morning Commute! And, I’m about to list all the shit I’m enjoying this week Then, I hope you’ll join me in the comments section. What are you partaking in, this week? Got any dope horror movies lined up? Playing the new World of Warcraft patch? Got some music you’re rocking out to? I want to know!
Let’s spend some time together, as the sun sets earlier, and the beautiful end draws near.