Thunder and lightning and god seeks revenge! I have no idea what that means, in relation to this post. But let’s be clear about some things. Despite the fact that I have a swamp in my pants from the gym, outside is absolutely delightful. There’s none of the precipitation out in the trees that I can feel fermenting in the crevices of my thunder thighs. What a wonderful to time exist, no?
You’re just trudging through the woeful winter and all of a sudden you look up from your self-pitying and you catch blue skies and the rustling of leaves. There’s something to be said of the necessary evil of the winter for you to appreciate the spring. But eh, who fucking cares. I’m pretty sure I could enjoy the beautiful weather of say, San Diego, without having to live through snow and hail and cleaning out cars.
I pinky swear.
I’ll just come home for Christmas, that’d be enough to remind me, right?
Monday Morning Commute. Every Monday I’m going to detail the various things I’m either currently or will be watching, reading, playing, and listening to in the next seven days. It’s Monday. You’ve got a long week of school, work, or compulsive masturbation to get through. Tell me the arts that you’re indulging in, to stave off suicide.
Reading / Siege #4, Marvel Comics
If you’re a Marvel fan and you’re not looking forward to this issue of Siege, I fucking hate you! No, I don’t. But I do not share your feelings. Siege #4 drops this week, and it’s the culmination of oh, seven years worth of storylines. But more importantly, it’s bringing the gang back together!
You know! The Big Three. And no, I’m not talking about Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman. I’m talking about the real Big Three. Stark, the Aryan Poster Child and the God of Lightning. These guys haven’t talked since like Freshmen year, and gosh do they miss one another.
And hopefully Thor lays an ass-whipping on The Sentry that likes of which registers on richter scales. Seriously, fuck the Sentry. The Sentry is as emo as Peter Parker, and his superpowers are just knock-offs of Superman. Stop crying, Bobby Reynolds. You bitch. Mjolnir has a date. With your fucking face!
Tomorrow is the last day of classes. And then it’s just a paper and a half between me and my summer break. For uh, like three weeks. Yeah, I’m taking summer classes. But by the beard of Zeus, I’m stoked for even that amount of time off before it’s back to nose-diving into processed trees.
I was laying in bed this morning imagining a world where my asshole didn’t pucker at the thought of having to read scholarly articles, or feeling like my existence was defined by grades on report cards. It felt fantastic. I’m taking that shit, if at least until June 1.
I will be merry. You will be merry. We will be merry together.