Welcome, comrades. Welcome to another edition of View From The Space-Ship. The column where I collate (usually, just egregiously embedding from my instagram) the various views of the world I’ve shared in a given week. I’m a giver, but I also like to receive, though. Oh do I like to receive! So if you’re inclined, share your own world in the comments section. This week? This week it’s pretty much ALL PUPPY all the TIME. Sam Omega and I have spent a week housebreaking her, worshipping her, petting her, and generally sleeping very little and worrying very much. Her name is Lucy Omega. Also known as SheWolf. Also known as SnowBeast.

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Salutations, comrades. And welcome to another installment of Weekend Open Bar. Round these here parts, during this here column, we typically gather and shoot the breeze during the aforementioned Weekend. Slough off our LunarLandingCompany overalls, scrub the MoonCoal out from underneath our fingernails, and existentially convalesce. With each other.  Oh, what does that convalescence look like?

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Here’s a toast to the douchebags! Here’s a toast to the gluttons! To the slave drivers, to the apathetic consumers. Here’s a toast to the MarauderCorporations! To the BottomLineSwine, to the trash mongers! Earth is Toast, so let’s share a toast! Ain’t nothing we can do about it anyways. Let’s dance while the Palaces Burn! Together! And what a perfect column to do so in.

Monday Morning Commute Tuesday Afternoon Commute. Here’s a toast to the hard workers! To the people just trying to get by, to the loved ones who love their loved ones. Monday Morning Commute Tuesday Afternoon Commute. Where us trash mongers, hard workers, BottomLineSwine, we can all gather. Share what we’re up to this week. Be it the books we’re reading, the road trips we’re taking, the kids we’re trying to raise.

We’re all in this together, so let’s hold hands as we rocket not into Space, but off the cliff.

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Sweet soggy nipples, I’m aging. Like, I knew that Super Mario Bros. was released a while ago. But thirty years-old? That’s…that’s pretty fucking tremendous. Even more terrifying is the fact that my wife wasn’t even alive when it arrived (she’s four.5 years younger than my ass). Which means — like so many goddamn people were born into world and will live their lives having no goddamn clue about the Touchstone Megaton that was the game’s release.

Let’s celebrate the game with some futzing videos. Feel free to share your own memories, videos, thoughts, whatever.

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Welcome to the latest installment of View From The Space-Ship. A column where the denizens of the Space-Ship OMEGA can check out the various views from my compartment as we hurdle through time and space. Then if they’re so inclined, they can post their own Existences Writ Digital. It’s up to you! No worries either way (Just don’t let me down).

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Oh shit! And a good weekend to you, as well! This is the Weekend Open Bar, the one-stop madness-shop for hanging out on the weekend. That is! If you’re a frequenter of the Space-Ship Omega. That is! If you’ve just wandered by (you poor soul) and found us this weekend. Join us! Join us, all of you. And do what? Great question!

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Ah, autumn. Brings with it apparently the hottest day of the fucking year here in Massachusetts tomorrow. But also! The usual meanderings. Football is back, praise the Elder Ones. School is back, praise the Old Things. And with school being back comes my typical beginning-of-the-semester renunciation of caffeine. To an extent. I’ll level with you — I have to get up at 7 am. And while many call that “normal”, I call that “an hour and forty-five minutes before I’m used to.” With the knowledge that I must RISE~ earlier, I’m trying to scale back my caffeine consumption. So I can go to bed at an earlier time. Let me tell you — I still have enough caffeine in my blood to stop your heart twice over — but goddamn if my skull ain’t pounding. My jaw clenching. My eyes twitching. My detox is your overdose, but I’m going to make it through.

I hope.

Anyways! This here is Monday Morning Commute. That means I’m about to list the various activities, arts, comics, and cool happenings I’m looking forward to this week. After I’m done babbling about my poor choices (though I will admit I’m sweating a couple of things this week v. much), you share own weekly interests.

Let’s do this! With clenched jaws and slightly less prominent heart palpitations!

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It’s that glorious time again, comrades. That’s right! That’s correct! That’s precisely it. It’s time to kick-in the doors of the Weekend Open Bar. Flock to our designated *favorite* tables in the musty, dank-ass-air-filled tavern here on the Space-Ship Omega. It’s that glorious time again, comrades. For us to sit around the aforementioned tables, sharing with one another the glory that is the hypothetical weekend. I know some of you have the weekend off. I know that some of you have a long weekend. I know that some of you unfortunately have to work. But whatever your Existent Conditions are here in the OMNIVERSE, I hope you’ll join in the camaraderie.

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A photo posted by Ian Omega (@caffeinepowered) on Aug 30, 2015 at 5:02pm PDT

Welcome to View From The Space-Ship. Every once in a while I get into a groove where I share what my world looks like. It seems somewhat redundant, given, you know, social media. But maybe I’ll begin collating all the various, disparate media across the different mediums into one thick, beefy post for you every week. As per usual — the real fulcrum of this post is audience participation. Share the view from all your various segments of the OMNIVERSE. Keep Reading »

I’ve spent the last week wondering what the fuck I’m doing. Let me tell you — the life of an adjunct is brutal. I stand a mere seven days away from starting a semester, and I don’t know what classes I’m teaching. How many, what time, their subject level. And I stand and I gaze into myself and I wonder why I put myself through such rigors. Every semester. The answers are obvious but when you’re stressed, when you have a haunting sense of not pulling your share of the financial weight, when you have a new mortgage, they seem to evaporate before they have any chance of distilling into anything appreciable.

Lord, I don’t know.

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