This is Weekend Open Bar. Where we get together and share what we are up to during a given weekend. What we are going to watch, eat, play, contemplate. Here, let me share.
I have felt like a Man Unmoored this year. Not Billy Pilgrim levels, but close. Ian Omega has come unstuck in Existence. I am a man of routine, I find comfort in it. Every day I stop at the same convenience store on the way to work. I buy the same exact thing. Every weekend morning I take the same car ride, before going to the gym. I enjoy doing the same exact thing every Saturday with Bateman. I like familiarity. I like the banal. I am a boring man, but it works for me.
Can you imagine how goddamn great this would be?!
Peggy Carter got herself a new nemesis in her second season. That nemesis being none other than Madame Masque. I’m not familiar with the character outside of her presence in Fraction’s Hawkguy run. But that don’t mean I ain’t stoked!
Roberta knew falling in love with Clauius, the thick-poled Cyborg was a mistake. He could see Infinity, perceive The All. His pistons would (practically) never age. His psyche could only expand. But still. Those eyes. That class. And don’t get me wrong. Clauius knew that falling in love with Roberta was a gamble only a foolish Flesh-Sack would make. She would age. Certainly, he was not immune to Entropy. But by the Circuitry Above, he could practically watch her decay happen in real-time. And when he sped up his relativistic perceptions, he did. But those eyes. And that brain. And so fell they love. Her programming and his programming (programmed by her programming) too much to overcome. For a moment, they will Find a Way. And for a moment we all Find a Way. There be romance, and mundanity, and hurt, and humping, and a cadre of other experiences. Most of them banal, some of them transcendent.
This is Monday Morning Commute | The arts, farts, blips, and blops that I look forward to during a given week. Share what you’re looking toward to. Join the community. Share your highlights, your misery.
Fucking crap day, here. Just busy. Really fucking busy, and ineffective. My class smells blood, knowing the end of the semester is upon them next week. Today this led to a case of The Mondays in class writ large. A disaffection that was equalled in enormity only by the disruptiveness with which it manifested itself. In other words, no one gave a fuck, and everyone was talking. So class was going shit, and then during our mid-class break it became known to me through a squabble of error messages and beeping that the copier was. In fact. Fucking broken. In other words, I wasn’t able to make a copy of (what should have been) tonight’s reading. So what am I doing tomorrow? Fuck if I know. Today was the first day (and this is probably actually a good sign) in my 3+ years of teaching where I openly asked myself, “What the fuck am I doing wasting my time with this?” A shuddering, unrelenting tidal wave of bile-duct refuse and existential despair washed over me. And for it I have no answers, other than to hope it ebbs as well as flows. I’m sure it does.
This is my third week of marriage. It feels very much the similar to the life I was living prior to marriage – namely a maelstrom of responsibilities and too few nights spent actually enjoying the company of my Wife. We spent the weekend house shopping, and now she’s away on business. When…when does life calm down? And in the midst of all that bullshit — we are submitting an offer sheet on a house tomorrow. So there’s that. Either we get a house tomorrow, or we have to hit the house hunting grind again this weekend. Which, admittedly, is a privilege. I get that. But it’s stressful as fuck, and at a certain point having more space for shit you probably doesn’t need must feel irrelevant in the Frowning Face of Not Enjoying Time with a loved one. Right?
The fact that I’m making a post about a release date for a comic is a testament to how much Fraction & Talented Co’s Hawkguy run has moved me over the past three years. The final, oft-delayed, oversized issue will be dropping this July.
It is little secret around here that Matt Fraction ain’t just one of my favorite comic book creators. He’s a source of genuine inspiration and resiliency, and I follow his travels in ways that may be “unhealthy” and “borderline obsessive.” Okay. Whatever. So forgive me if this post really doesn’t fit in anywhere (though to be fair This Site is Me and I Am This Site). But I stumbled across this really fucking outstanding diatribe from Fraction detailing him falling into Hawkguy‘s first issue. It’s tremendous. He admits what I was sort of worrying about at the time (his career dying), once again somehow conjures tragedy into art, and continues to generally move me.
Morning! Morning. Commute! Commute. Mondaye! Mondaye. The column where we share the various endeavors we’re looking forward to (or dreading if you need some catharsis) in a given week. Generally these endeavors are of the arts and farts variety, but if you’re looking forward to picking+eating your toenails frankly I’m with you sharing that too. Me? This week? Guardians of the Galaxy, Boston ComicCon, and more!
Let’s dance the dance eternal.