Holy smokes.

It’s been a long goddamn while, but I’ve finally managed to find my way back to Spaceship OL. What’s been keepin’ me? Why’s Caff-Pow been forced to man the wheel without my navigational assistance? Well, we were pushing the `ole Nerd-Bird through some specially turbulent space-waters and I went to check on the chimp cages. In the process, I fell overboard.

Yes, I’d been drinkin’.

Anyways, I ended up getting sucked into an Ennui Vortex and was propelled beyond my control through some of the vilest scenarios of my entire existence. There were Responsibility Phantoms and Work Monsters and Accountability Ghouls. Hell, at one point I floated through a strait that saw the Stress-Scylla on one side and the Overtime-Charybdis on the other.

It was terrible!

But lo! and behold! I survived! Here I am! The one and only Rendar Frankenstein, hack-writer extraordinaire, in the digital-flesh! And you’d better believe I’m here for some haphazard word-slingin’! So let’s shuffle off the stains of yesterday and strap on our immortal foils! After all, this is the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, the spot for sharing ideas about actualizing spiritual potential! How do we survive the onslaught of everyday malaise?

First, I’m goin’ to run you through some of the keys I’m using to unlock my mind. Then, you hit up the comments section and share the strategies you’ll be using to break open your idea-doors!

C’mon!

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Hello friends. Welcome aboard the Mother-Ship. Adopt your seat of choice. Notice how the syntho-foam molds itself perfectly to your buttocks. And — And! — should you telepathically wish it, begins to invade said buttocks. Go ahead. We didn’t spend all the money on the syntho-foam for nothing. We ain’t judging.Once you’re settled, pull the visors over your retinas and ingest this forthcoming list. The list? A drug-fueled (specifically antihistamines) delineation of the things I’m enjoying this week. Correlate the list within your rotting, offensive organic dome-piece. Whilst, of course, writhing against the synto-foam’s pseudo-phallus. Then when you’re done, hit the comments section with your own list of enjoyments.

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Hey friends. Straight-up static here on Space-Ship Omega. My life has been crazy lately. Frenzy. Frenzied! Busy. And all this madness taken me away from the controls. What about the rest of the crew? Great question. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but Rendar Frankenstein has left the ship. Yup. Quietly departed during a movie night. Whilst you were all entertained by the Team Omega’s sweded version of They Live, Frankenstein grabbed a null-grav suit and fluttered away to a local exoplanet. Pluto? Staring in the mirror puffing his bubble pipe while blathering about the impermanence of pop culture references and stroking his non-existent beard. The Dude? Johnny Hotsauce? An arm wrestling match that’s been going on for nineteen days. Bateman? Triple bypass.

Just me. And you. Aboard the Space-Boat. Here is what I’m using to kill my loneliness.

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Welcome to the Cascade of Nonsense. The white noise that keeps us complacent, ’cause otherwise we might be getting jittery. Someday you’ll die, someday we’ll exhaust this rotting Blue Marble, someday the sun will smirk before burning us up anyways. It’s all dumb and pointless and so we’re tasked with kicking it absurdity. Finding our own meaning, demanding our own purpose, but really probably just manufacturing our own cultural opiates to keep us numb to these nonsensical factoids of the world.

This is Monday Morning Commute. What composes your armature of pointlessness? How are you surviving this week? Hit me.

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…I can relate, man. Or how about fifteen slices of pizza on a Friday night? Or two pounds of Laffy Taffy while refreshing Tumblr for nine hours on a Saturday evening? None happened this previous weekend, all of happened at one point in my life. This isn’t about shaming, though. It’s about coming together as a bunch of flesh-sacks trying to make it on this Blue Marble. This isn’t about wallowing. It’s about embracing the absurdity, the rot, the excess, the loneliness, the glee, the victory, the defeat.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

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Don’t breath too deep, friends. You see, they’re done with the fluoride in the water. That’s the old tip. They’ve moved on. Now it’s the nanobots. In the air. Infesting our cortex-bits. Prepping us for the ultimate in meta-data. Meta-cognitive data. Don’t breath too deep. Don’t breath at all, if you can help it. Reject the need for oxygen. Has anyone ever really shown you that you need it? If you didn’t believe you did? Eh? Oh — me? Off my meds? What is it to you, buster? Fuck you! No — no. Please come back. Partake in this here column. Monday Morning Commute.

The watering hole where we share the various arts we’re indulging on a given week. While we can. Before they activate nanobots.

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Welcome, friends. Welcome to the Space-Ship Omega’s weekly column, Monday Morning Commute. Within these walls, I, the captain, and you all will share the various arts and farts that we’re interested in during a given week. The foci are generally said arts (and poots!) that are upcoming, but feel free to share past-dalliances that are on your dome-piece as well.

Time is of the something!

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Woo! Look at Killer Mike fucking have at it! From a super-froggy-fresh live performance of “Run the Jewels.” Killer Mike? That’s how I’m feeling on this final day of the long weekend. Nothing like sleeping in late three days in a row to revive the synapses, restore the soul, and pack on an easy five pounds or so. This is Monday Morning Commute, the column where I share the esoteric entities (not really) in my existence that are helping me get through a given week. I spread them all around the ground, pointing at them while shouting “Fuck!, Fuck!, Fuck!, Delicious!” This serves to let you know I love them. After that, you share your dilly dallyings in the comments.

Let’s groove, folks.

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I’d be lying if I said the first thing I wanted to do after being gone from home for fourteen hours was pen a column for you swine. But the Space-Ship demands its supplication. I must adhere to the scriptures. Lest the ones in the belly of the Ship awaken. Claw their way to the cockpit. Eat our souls, our mothers’ hearts, the organs of our unborn Space-Babies. We don’t want that, right? What’s a little fatigue-drunk groveling in the form of a column, if it saves the Omega-Ship? It’s nothing! Nothing god dammit!

—Oh, you don’t know what I’m rambling about? This is Monday Morning Commute. The column where we share the various things we’re anticipating, currently enjoying, or day-dreaming about on a given week. It serves as a meeting place, a virtual comic shop floor, the bathroom at a rock concert. It also keeps the Dark Lords from awakening. Fair trade.

Share your shit! What are you digging this week? (Oh, and if the comments aren’t working please clear your Chrome plug-in data.)

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Welcome, friends. Welcome to Monday Morning Commute. The column where we announce (proudly?) the various things we’re going to enjoy across the next seven days. It’s an integral motion, you know. Enjoying things. Helps me personally get through ten hour work days. The calming influence that is having a movie-video-game-album-stroke-fest on the horizon.

Here are the subjects I shall be dabbling in.

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