It’s been a hot fucking minute since I rattled off one of these diarrhea-blasts of existential enormity, no? But I’m here right now, ready to plunder your holes with my textual absurdity. Let the ole cyber-tongue rattle around and find where it gets you good. I’m not saying you know that I’m good for, but if you’ve found this post you probably already know me. Yes? Fucking yes!

How has everyone been doing? I’ve been surfing along the astral-plane and simultaneously tethered to this rot-ass meat-space like the rest of ya’ll. When I’m not high and surfing the Beyond with Bateman or my Wife, I’m trudging through a miserable remote summer class.

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I don’t know, what the fuck do you want from me? Just kind of in a funk, lately. Not pervasive, rather it sort of floats in and out of my day. Tired. Burnt out. Expressed the idea to my wife yesterday and her response was immediate, logical, and undeniable: I haven’t had a proper vacation in who the fuck knows how long, and I work myself to death. Always busy. Always tired. Always distracted.

Case in point, I write the above paragraph at 2pm during my lunch break. But, here I am, now! It’s 7pm. I have surfed time, space, commuter traffic, a half-assed workout, and a dog walk to rejoin this act of writing. I’m just, you know. Tired.

But! Hey! It’s Monday Morning Commute! By way of Tuesday. Despite being slathered in a melange of malaise, I’m actually looking forward to some shit this week, I’m actually consuming some pop culture I’m enjoying this week.

Join me in the comments with your own pop culture proclivities, thoughts on existence, gifs of furries farting on cakes. I don’t give a shit.

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