Weekend Open Bar: under a blood red God
God does not care if I jerk off, eat pizza, jerk off while eating pizza. I’ve explicitly asked it for permission while I did both activities. Paws filled with pizza sauce, and people sauce, and a ragged smile. God, I said. Do I have permission for this? No word. Jack, jack, eat, jack. God, I said. Are you busy? I have trouble with the fact that I’m tortured by the past and terrified of the future. No word. Jack, jack, eat, jack. God, I said. Are you busy? I have trouble with the fact that I’m in a rotting meat-case on a rotting planet, and frankly I think it’s a race to the finish line between the two of us. No word. No word. Jack, jack, eat, jack.
Citizens of OL, I say. Are you busy? It’s the weekend and I want to hang out with all of you. Click click, clack clack of the keyboard. Citizens of OL, I say. Are you busy? It’s the weekend and I want you to share everything you’re reading, eating, playing, seeing, experiencing with me. Click click, clack clack of the keyboard.
God, I said. Are you busy? Citizens of OL, I say. Are you busy? Jack, jack, eat, jack. Click click, clack clack of the keyboard.
God, Citizens, let’s spend some time together.
This is Weekend Open Bar.
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Friday
Tonight I’m going to the Red Sox game with my Mom. She’s determined to see Big Papi hit a homerun in person, in his final season.
Depending on the time, Bateman and I may see Blair Witch or watch some Wrestling.
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Saturday
Absolutely sleeping late. Eating something delicious with my wife. Maybe watching Hell of High Water with her, too. Bateman and I will end up doing whatever we don’t do tonight, if we do anything.
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Sunday
Football. Football! Football. Football! All day. Lesson planning if I don’t pull off any lesson planning tonight, or on Saturday. More. Football. Football! Football. Football!
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I’ll check in over the weekend, obviously. But I figured I’d hit you off the tits immediately with a few of my happenings, to supplement this perpetual Existential Skeleton updates over the weekend.