Living through a more quiet summer than usual. When given the opportunity to interview for a summer position I had held for ten years, I decided that my interview would consist of a polite “no thank you” and an existential middle finger or two. That’s life, baby. Which has led me to a sort of ponderous, mostly relaxing summer as a Full Time Minder for my wife, a role I attack with aplomb and competence.

At the same time, the summer has also been laced with strife and difficulty. My wife’s family on her Mom’s side seems to suffer one loss after another. I’m not saying their family farm was built on cursed colonized land (I mean, it was colonized, all of this is) but the two of us joke about that it was. To bare my soul is to admit that I’m at the perpetual intersection of trying to figure out how to console my wife, and also throwing a pity-party for myself. She grieves on a consistent level that can only be the byproduct of an indifferent Universe. However, at a certain point my selfish ass just wants quality time with my her. How does one reconcile the desire to stamp their feet petulantly with an equally meaningful desire to be a good spouse?

I’ll hang up and take the answer off the air.

Seriously though, I don’t know! But, I’ve finally got hooked up with a therapist and I’m eager to till my fucking emotional land.

But here I am.

I haven’t written much lately, as evidenced by the fucking four month silence here. I miss writing, expressing myself, and connecting with others. I’m held back by this ingrained idea in my head that frankly I don’t have much to say and even if I did no one really gives a fuck and even more dangerous is that I don’t blame them. Look at that fucking trifecta.

But here I am.

A more quiet summer, a more pensive CaffPow. Such is the state of things. Nonetheless, such a situation does not foreswear me from enjoying the various arts and farts. This is what I’m enjoying lately.

This is Monday Morning Commute.

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David Cronenberg is directing his first motherfucking movie in seven years this summer, folks. That ain’t the only thing to get your tits leaking, though. The son of a bitch, titled Crimes of the Future, is a science-fiction flick with an absolutely stacked cast.

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