Hello, friends! It’s The Weekend Open Bar! Come hang out!
I’m feeling good over here. The weather has finally turned here on the Eastern seaboard of the Empire. My semester has finally ended. And, I’ve gotten consecutive nights of good sleep. All of this is to say is that I’m actually sticking my head out of the Depressive Cocoon I build around myself ever so often, and smiling!
By god, smiling.
Monday Morning Commute, on a fucking Monday? Up is down! Left is right! The Earth is saved, humanity operates on a higher than base, cruel level, and the Eagles are winning the Super Bowl!
Nothing makes sense, friends! Nothing! But, here we are anyways.
Nothing makes sense, friends! Nothing! But, when has it ever, anyways?
I hope you’re doing fantastic. May your sexual glands be drained, your cups full of your beverage of choice, and your stomach stocked with your preferred form of caloric corpulence.
This right here is the aforementioned Monday. Morning. Commute! The weekly wank-off session where I tell you all the things helping me get through this particular work week. Then! Oh, then! Just as importantly, I hope you’ll share what you’re up to in the comments.
Hello, friends! It’s Weekend Open Bar! Pull a chair up to the hearth. Summon your favorite chemicals from the servo-droid behind the counter. Pop off your pants, oh, I know, they’re a bit tight from this week’s corpulence. And relax! Just straight-up fucking relax with me. Your co-host, your champion, your spirit-guide. Let us move together through a miasma of revelry, consumption, contemplation, and companionship.
What are you up to this weekend, comrades? Shoving any old ladies out of the way for a discounted blender at TarMart? Catching up on any stories on the TeleVisor? Trying to rationalize the utter depravity that is your diet these past few days?
Man. If you only knew how much time I burned through looking for a header image for this post. If you only knew how much time I burned through trying to come up with a title for this post. But here I am, folks. Opening up the Weekend Open Bar for one and all.
Now. I’m covered in sweat, lowered in the couch, delayed in showering before this evening’s activities.
Later. I’ll be covering myself in crumbs, lowering myself in the couch, consuming media with Bateman.
You. What are you doing tonight? Saturday? This weekend? What are you playing? Eating? Watching? Reading? Contemplating?
Somehow. It’s time for yet another Weekend Open Bar.
It’s been four weeks, but goddamn, I’m back. Computer, uh, healed. Its technological malfunctions sated by the astralGeniuses and of course the corporealCurrencies paid forth to said astralGeniuses. I, I can’t complain about the corporealCurrencies spent or the fact that the astralGeniuses really didn’t live up to their name. ‘Cause finally I have a fucking computer again. The Engines of Depravity that power the Space-Ship Omega and this Garbage Lord are whirring up to full strength, and we’re just going to fucking resume operations.
I’ve missed you fucks.
This is Monday Morning Commute. The weekly wank-off over the arts&farts that are serving to propel us through a given week. You know, the shit we’re looking forward to, enjoying, anticipating, worshipping, that serve as a balm on the existential burns of existence.
Sometimes, man. Sometimes, I just straight-up spend too much time thinking of a post title for a Monday Morning Commute, and then I spend too much time hunting the perfect image. “Perfect”, I know. I’m trash. Anyways, how are you fucking folks doing? You stellar Garbage Lords.
Well, I’m currently pinched for time. Tomorrow I leave for the Great White North, meeting the rest of the family up there for a final service for my Nana. She sloughed the mortal coil last year, I think maybe I discussed it?, and now it’s time.
To throw Nana into the marsh behind the family home. Where her shamanistic tendencies can be unloosed, sent to interact with her fellow Reality Melters in the Gilded Plains of the OMNIVERSE.
Well, I’m currently wasting time!
So here, without further adieu, is what I’m currently enjoying, currently looking forward to, currently sweating. Let me know what you’re up to this week!
How are you folks, doing? Me? This human? This flesh-sack, organic-computer, consumption-bot? I’m doing fine.
It’s that weird period of the summer where I’m done teaching, but I still have to go into work.
Just enough of a busy schedule to spend an hour, hour-and-fifteen, or hour-and-a-half in my car, each way, for four days a week.
Just enough of a busy schedule to fight traffic to tutor a couple folks to sit idly waiting to see if anyone else is will need tutoring.
Invariably: they won’t.
Invariably: I’ll sit, eyes-crossed, soul-exhaling-a-continuous-malaise, browsing Tumblr, Facebook, whateverwhatever.
Invariably: then I leave, fighting traffic back to my domicile.
How are you folks, doing? Me? This human? This animated-rot, permanent-horndog, masturbation-factory? I’m doing fine.
This is Monday Morning Commute.
Southern Bastards is a raw book, man. Set in a raw southern town, man. So while it hasn’t shied away from addressing the Confederacy, a recent variant cover swung right at its flag. For charity!
Hello, Sentient Folk. Welcome to Monday Morning Commute. This is the weekly call-and-answer column that sits atop the throne of existential feces that is The First Day of the Work Week. Within this aforementioned conglomerate of poorly formed sentences, cheap dick jokes, and the passive voice, I tell you what I’m looking forward to during a given week.
Then you holler back with your own choice arts, games, movies, comics, songs, philosophical musings. Let’s do this! Together!
Southern Bastards is the fucking realest. Grimiest. Filthiest, most brooding shit going. So FX developing it for a TV series? Sign me up twice over. It’s like Justified. But with football.