#Featured Articles
Weekend Open Bar: Take a breath, my dudes!
My, oh fucking my!
It’s the end of the week, friends! It’s the end of the semester, friends! And, it’s a long weekend friends! Praise JCVD, my friends! The All-Father has delivered me to the end of the weird, wild, awful online semester, and I’m stoked.
As well, I found out that due to budgetary problems — if you don’t know this yet, COVID-19 has lit higher education on fire — I can’t begin summer tutoring until June 1. So, not only is it a long weekend, but I’m fucking off until June 3.
My, oh fucking my!
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Monday Morning Commute: Bang!
I slept like a motherfucker Friday evening, friends. Or should I say, about 3 am on Saturday morning until 11:30 or so. By God, could I finally be relaxing? I mean, I ain’t been sleeping at all during this Rolling Nightmare. But, I think with the semester ending and myself accepting the homeostasis of such, I’m relaxing a bit. Fuck, I hope so! Maybe it’s a one-off, but I’m hoping for an emergent theme.
Anyways, I’m hanging in there. Can’t really complain, all things considered. Got my (physical) health, a tenuous grasp on my (mental) health, and I enjoy hanging out with you little fuckers.
You know the goddamn drill with this column, you really do! Unless you’ve just stumbled across this Monument to Madness! In which case, I’ll let you know. This is Monday Morning Commute! Every week, us depraved denizens of the Space-Ship gather! Then, we shoot the shit about what we’re up to on a given week. The books we’re reading! The genitals we’re manipulating! The games we’re playing. Anything and everything!
And per usual, I’ll go first.
Weekend Open Bar: Baby, can you dig your man?
Okay! Last night, I started The Stand. And I must confess, I put in my longest single-sitting reading session in a long, long time. Of course, that’s not counting school-related bullshit. I’m currently 63 pages in, which translates to only 1/20th of the fucking tome.
That said? I’m fucking enjoying it.
As I’ve intimated here before, I’m always down for a good-plague based Apocalypse.
Monday Morning Commute: Bring back them CRT Days!
Hard not to feel nostalgic, when the Planet is shuddered, and there’s nowhere to go, right? Also, hard not to feel nostalgic when I’m currently dong-deep in Final Fantasy 7 and classic horror movies, right? Anyways, I’m feel nostalgic as fuck, and old to boot. Nothing gets you thinking of the past like salivating over the remake of your favorite game of all time, and feeling the gravel in your elbows shift every time you try to do a tricep press.
Anyhoo, enough about my lachrymal, romanticized peering into my past! I’m stoked to spend the present with you folks, right here! In the latest edition of Monday Morning Commute! You know, the weekly gathering where we, uh, gather, and share what we’re up to!
I’ll go first, but lord, oh lord, I hope you’ll join me in the comments section!
Weekend Open Bar: Keep Flowing and Live Righteously
Hello, comrades! How the fuck you doing? Hope you’re hanging in there. Cracking the malaise with whatever sort of healthy mallet you wield these days. Be it movies, or video games, or some glorious bouts of paper-based hallucinations (books). I’m up and down these days. The days themselves, they feel so fucking long. The weeks themselves, they feel so fucking short. I’m not certain this is a fair trade, or if it balances it.
But, last night there was a glorious dusk. And in that moment, due to my good fortune, privilege, and health, it was a Hell of a Day to Be Alive.
And, today begins the weekend! Which means it’s time for the Open Bar!
Monday Morning Commute: Same as it ever was!
Talking Heads lyrics fucking speaking to me today, man. How is life during the pandemic, this week? Same as it ever was. Alternatively, the title of the song those lyrics are from is also apropos. Once in a lifetime. ‘Cause fuck me, if we have to live through this goddamn trash a second time. And okay, I’m not counting some sort of recurrent wave that’s indubitably hitting this fall. I mean, like — when it’s done.
Another week has passed. Nothing has changed, at least for the better. More morons outside. Increasing death rates, increasing infection rates. Extending stay-at-home orders in my state. The mundanity and the madness trudges forward.
Same as it ever was. Same as it will be.
However, it ain’t all bad news, motherfuckers! Nope! Nope. In fact, yesterday I recorded my final “virtual” classes for my students. All that stands between the end of the semester and me is two weeks of grading, and Zoom sessions. Not bad. Not bad at all.
I have to say, I guess I’m not depressed today, though! Small victories. Day by day. How do I know? Well, I’m actually stoked for shit. And, I’d like to tell you what I’m stoked for, friends!
This is Monday Morning Commute!
Weekend Open Bar: Diarrhea Death Race 2000!
Every weekend, my friends. I’m living the motherfucking Diarrhea Death Race 2000! Nothing compliments five-straight days of clean eating like a 48-hour bender of insane caloric bombardment. And every weekend, there’s at least one point, where I have to sprint full-speed into the bathroom before my blow ass all over my boxer briefs. Doesn’t matter if I’m about to fuck, it doesn’t matter if I’m working out, and it doesn’t matter if I’m playing Final Fantasy VII. The moment grips me. The bowels quiver. And like that, I’m off to the races.
Monday Morning Commute: (Please Stay Off The) Streets Of Rage
You fuckin’ want one? Then meet me in the streets, brother! It’s pretty easy to find me. Follow the smell of sweaty gym balls (who fucking showers these days) until you see a goddamn calamity with a fierce mustache. Oh, you’re telling me you can’t go out into the streets? Because of a responsible respect for the quarantines across the globe? Well, count yourself lucky! ‘Cause I respect that. Instead, how about you hang the fuck out with me here at Monday Morning Commute.
In lieu of a fucking tilly, we can shoot the shit. Share what we’re delving into this week, in order to stave off boredom. Discuss what we’re smashing open across our synapses, in order to prevent the ever present sense of doom from fully consuming us.
I’ll go first, cause I started this dance. But, after you’re done checking out what I’m up to, I demand that you swing back.
It’s only fair!
Weekend Open Bar: That Boy Is Trouble
Great Delicious Fuck! It feels like I just completely shazam’d my ass through the work week! Somehow, I’ve come out the other side with stunning alacrity. And now it’s the freakin’ Weekend, baby! Feels good. Feels so damn good, if I’m being honest. Every week of the remaining semester is going to be a white-knuckle, gripping-the-edge-of-the-clip type ride right up until May 12. But, by god, I’m doing it. Step by step and all that happy horseshit.
Enough about me, though. How are you doing, fellow members of the Space-Ship Omega?
