By god, we fucking made it! 2021, motherfuckers! The new year has arrived not a moment too soon, and I’m glad to karate chop the neck of the previous 365 days. I know there’s the fair critique that time is arbitrary, a new calendar don’t mean shit, and nothing magically changes. That said, it still counts for something. Our little human meat-computers process reality through the experiencing of touchstone moments. Holidays, birthdays, and word, the new year. Don’t blame me, I’m just the messenger. Science shows that shit.
Which means while the calendar flipping may not change anything, the start of the new year is a solid-as-fuck totem we can cling onto as we eye happier days in the upcoming months. So, fuck yeah, arbitrary or not, I’m stoked to finally be rid of the previous shit-ass year.
Whelp, the end of the semester has arrived. Just in time to compliment last week’s news that my wife doesn’t have cancer! A really lovely double axe handle to 2020’s absolutely brutal ennui. For the first time in a while I’m sleeping again, smiling again, enjoying the general day-to-day existence. Of course, I’m still concerned that dickheads out there are partying as the Pandemic reaches its peak! Of course, I’m still concerned that a significant strand of the Republican Party has turned into a reality-denying sledgehammer that is attempting to split the head of democracy fully open.
But, but, hey. We aren’t going to be able to turn the entire ship around. Not this quickly, perhaps not at all. However, the changes in my personal life are enough to gloss the synapses a bit, and allow me to enjoy my time with my wife! With you fucks! And make the best out of a mutilated holiday season, sans physical contact with friends and family.
Thus my friends, let’s dance the dance of digital reverie! Hark! What are you up to this week? Hark! What are you enjoying this week? This is Monday Morning Commute.
Hey! You fucks! How are you all doing? During this week of Giving Thanks, amid the most rotten-ass year in memory? How are you all doing? During this week of a Blackest Friday, amid the most rotten-ass year of Fridays in memory? This guy? Truthfully, I’m fucking zonked, dude. My core feels hallowed out, and spread across the astral plane. I exist as a collection of core functions, shambling through the next couple of days. If I can make it to Thursday, I’m golden!
Then? On Thursday? I’m popping on a pair of joggers, pulling up a chair, and just fucking getting gluttonous. Consuming some Thanksgiving feast. Consuming some shitty movies with Bateman. Consuming some Spider-Man: Miles Morales.
I’m really just leaning into the concept of elastic waistbands and corpulence this week.
Tell me, what are your plans this week? Crushing some mashed potatoes? Crushing some Shadowlands? Crushing a backlog of comic books with your free time?
I want to know!
This is Monday Morning Commute, Thanksgiving Week Edition!