Hey, friends! It’s September, and I hope you’re all settling into the transitioning of seasons. As well, apologies for not penning columns as of late. Or, rather, typing. You know. Whatever the case, transmuting thoughts into symbols which make sense to you all. I’m just in a fucking funk, man. And when that shit happens, my expression-based faculties wither. Don’t wanna do anything other than fall inwards! That said, I’m hoping to blast out the comic books column this weekend, and high-five you fuckers in here.
The source of the malaise? Asides from Dead Cells? I think it’s emanating from a general sense of anxiety about teaching online, and the sadness that comes with it. Just not stoked, man. At all!
This weekend kicks Summer square in the dick, sending it off packing. At least, emotionally. I can’t speak for temperatures, or the literal end of the summer. But after this weekend, the Pop Culture Zeitgeist turns its eyes towards football, fall, and All-Pumpkin-Everything. How does that register across your greasy tits, friends? Me? I’m fucking ready. Ready to lean deeply into Spooky Season. Football season. Hoodie season. All them fucking seasons!
It ain’t over yet, though, until this weekend! A weekend packed with cookouts, crank-downs, and coolers of adult beverages. And so, I’m stoked to enjoy the sendoff, while tapping my feet at its passing.