Monday Morning Commute: reality lies

Reality is, at best, a tenuous set of consensual hallucinations that we share with one another. Our greasy faces, our fat, gibbering jowls, our swollen, offensive ocular meat-balls all nodding in agreement at the barest, most pathetic concept of reality we hew together as Man. But hey. What the fuck do you want out of me? I can’t do shit about it. #YOLO So I’m going to live my life, dimly aware that my beliefs are conjured by a primitive brain-steak based on embarrassingly limited means of perception, and also play some video games. Love my fellow man. Hold doors, say please and thank you. Read some books. And watch Brock Lesnar give people the F5. ‘Cause really there’s no reason to do otherwise.

This is Monday Morning Commute – the column where we list the various ways we’re staving off staring into the Abyss and realizing how fucking Dumb It All Is. Generally these ways take the form of arts, farts, cheap beers, and ideally – Skittles.

I’ll go first.

—-

I’m looking forward to reading The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Stories by H.P. Lovecraft.

Bought it Saturday.

Coming tomorrow.

—-

Is anyone seeing Sin City? 

Am I right in thinking it’s going to suck?

—-

Before Lovecraft, I’ve got to finish The Plague.

Camus is my boy.

All Existentialism Everything.

Got Ten Pages Left.

—-

All of this Cosmic Horror, and Existential Angst.

Has been caused by my resumption of.

Listening to Welcome To Nightvale.

It’s so good.

—-

Band of the week seems to be old school Coheed.

Partying like it’s 2005.

Fuck I’m old.

—-

Going to the family house on Saturday.

In Nova Scotia.

Trailer Park Boys.

End of summer.

Celebration.

—-

That is it.

For me.

What are you folks.

Up to?