Monday Morning Commute, on a fucking Monday? Up is down! Left is right! The Earth is saved, humanity operates on a higher than base, cruel level, and the Eagles are winning the Super Bowl!

Nothing makes sense, friends! Nothing! But, here we are anyways.

Nothing makes sense, friends! Nothing! But, when has it ever, anyways?

I hope you’re doing fantastic. May your sexual glands be drained, your cups full of your beverage of choice, and your stomach stocked with your preferred form of caloric corpulence.

This right here is the aforementioned Monday. Morning. Commute! The weekly wank-off session where I tell you all the things helping me get through this particular work week. Then! Oh, then! Just as importantly, I hope you’ll share what you’re up to in the comments.

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Reentry into reality sucks, today. My bowels are still building seriously slippery turds. My sleep schedule is fucked. My brain is staggering around, attempting to figure out how to imbue in students a sense of urgency and discipline that I myself don’t have. But, what can I do? Knuckle up, hunker down, and bang out the rest of the semester.

What can, oh whatever can get me through this week? The rest of the semester? Why, a multitude of things! Why, a multitude of things, condensed into two.

First, the various distractions, distinctions, and arts and farts I’m about to list below!

After all, that’s the whole point of Monday Morning Commute. To share you’re looking forward to this week.

Second, your happenings this week, in the comments section!

After all, that’s the whole point of Monday Morning Commute. To share you’re looking forward to this week.

Without further ado, adieu, to the preamble.

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How’s it going, folks? Are you segueing into Corpulence Season well? You must prepare to fulfill your duty as a member of the Empire!

Consumption! Things! Stuff! Food! Consumption! Consumption! Consumption!

Hail, Hail, Hail!

Toe the line! Nay, stand in line! You must be checking out mentally while checking out virtually, physically! The form doesn’t matter, only the consumption! The filling and emptying of stomachs, shopping carts, bank accounts, guts, shelves, savings.

Consumption! Things! Stuff! Food! Consumption! Consumption! Consumption!

That’s a negative spin on the whole ordeal, isn’t it?

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…and a fucking hearty salutation to everyone! As I predicted last week, it seems that Tuesday Evenings are the new Monday Morning this semester. I’m going to level with you folks, I’m fucking tired these days. My malignant malaise is equal parts Being In The Teeth of the Semester, Chemical Imbalance, and an Ever Increasing Lack of Sunlight.

Why, just mustering up this column begs a good amount out of me.

You know, after a ten hour work day.

You know, after going to the gym.

You know, after unpacking my bags.

You know, after walking the dog.

So on, and so forth.

But, I’m here. Hopefully, you are too. This is Monday Morning Commute. On a Tuesday Evening. Within these walls, I’m going to tell you what’s getting me through the week.

What I’m watching.

What I’m playing.

Et cetera.

I hope you’ll join me in the comments section with your own happenings.

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It seems that Monday Morning Commute dropping on Tuesdays is going to be status quo for this semester’s installments. For that, I apologize. For that, I fall upon a rusty sword forged from old Diet Dew cans and crunchy socks filled with old spillings of my proto-children.  If you’re wondering how that’s any different than when I fall upon my futon to do some nightly reading, I can only say this. Touché.

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This is Monday Morning Commute! The column where we share, oh do we share, the various arts and miscellanies that are looking forward to in a given week. Speaking of this week?

Ohhh, we got ourselves a week, friends.

Ohhh, we got ourselves a panoply of tasty pop culture treats dropping this week, friends.

Well, okay. Not like, that many. But like, the ones that are arriving?

They’re certainly considerable for yours truly. Two follow-ups to a couple of personal favorites. The two of them? They’re enough to grease the rock this week, aid in my pushing of it up the hill.

So let’s get into it. Let us dive in.

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They still haven’t killed me.

That’s not to say there haven’t been a few close calls. That time I pulled the job on the Federation Bank on Ganymede? Goddamn, that pig went belly-up the second I scratched the skin, but I walked out with an empty clip and sack full of cash. Needless to say, I won’t be going back to Jupiter anytime soon.

Or that time I stowed aboard the Belt Skipper in the hopes of finding my beau for a real lunar tryst of a weekend. Of course, I was discovered halfway through, and that fuck of a captain tried the `ole airlock gag on me. Thing is, that shit only works on the criminally unprepared, and I’m nothing if not one prepared criminal. Fucker punched the release and I flashed him the bird before wrapping myself in a solar sail and then leisurely drifting to a comrade’s outpost.

Oh, and then just yesterday I was having a drink at Old  McQuarrie’s — bourbon and white wine, if you care – and all of a sudden the place goes neon! Bullets and beams whizzing past my head, Old McQuarrie crying behind the bar and doing that thing he does where he says those prayers and grabs at the – whatcha call it – that’s right, the Rosary beads! They managed to kill an old pervert sitting next to me, which is a shame because even though he’d spent a half hour shamelessly trying to get into my pants, everyone in the community really loved him.

So anyways, I end up having to basically gut Old McQuarrie’s with the better part of my arsenal – and I don’t just mean bullets and blades, I’m talking about pulse charges and pheno-drones, too. But, when someone’s trying to take your life, you don’t think to yourself, “Maybe I should save something for next time,” `cause the truth is that there might not be a next time.

They still haven’t killed me.
And I’ve got the privilege of next time.
But next time? They might just kill me.

—-

Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, you salty dogs!

Y’either know the drill or y’don’t. If y’do, just keep movin’ along! If y’don’t, well here’s what’s what: first I warm you up with some half-baked bit of writing nonsense (see above). Then, I share what I’ll be thinking about or watching or listening to or doing over the next week. Finally, you hit up the comments section and share your own tentative plans?

Why do we do this here at OL? Well, because life can be brutal but solidarity can be liberating. We’re all just trying to make our days manageable — or enjoyable or maybe even, in rare instances, triumphant — and sometimes a good suggestion goes a long way.

Enough blathering, let’s freakin’ dance!

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It’s Monday Morning Commute, comrades! A day late, but what can you do.

Yesterday was one of those days where the laptop didn’t leave the book bag upon my return to the Mother-Ship. But, I’m here now! Ready to give you the rundown of what I’m looking forward to this week! Ready to eagerly anticipate your own happenings in the comments section.

It’s Monday Morning Commute, comrades! A day late, but what can you do.

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It’s been four weeks, but goddamn, I’m back. Computer, uh, healed. Its technological malfunctions sated by the astralGeniuses and of course the corporealCurrencies paid forth to said astralGeniuses. I, I can’t complain about the corporealCurrencies spent or the fact that the astralGeniuses really didn’t live up to their name. ‘Cause finally I have a fucking computer again. The Engines of Depravity that power the Space-Ship Omega and this Garbage Lord are whirring up to full strength, and we’re just going to fucking resume operations.

I’ve missed you fucks.

This is Monday Morning Commute. The weekly wank-off over the arts&farts that are serving to propel us through a given week. You know, the shit we’re looking forward to, enjoying, anticipating, worshipping, that serve as a balm on the existential burns of existence.

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Hello, salutations, and greetings, fellow Trash Lords. Scions of the Elder Garbage. It’s I, your fearless dumpster pile, Caffeine Powered. Coming to you from a shitty, broken down computer at the public university at which I theoretically work. I say theoretically since due to bureaucracy and the lack of an actual budget for the Fall Semester (seriously), I haven’t gotten paid since August. Eh, whatever, whatever.

I come to you here, because as I’ve commented upon in other posts, my goddamn personal computing machine is about to enter its own fourth week of in-action.

But, hey. I got time before class, so I figured I would throw some sort of line of communication into the EchoChamber.

For perhaps the first and only time, it’s Thursday Whatever The Fuck! My angered, frantic Thursday edition of Monday Morning Commute.

I miss ya’ll, I miss blogging for ya’ll (all three of you), so here’s what I’m up to this week. You know, when I’m not embracing a desiccated bank account and a general malaise.

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