#May2016
Weekend Open Bar: Living Life On Bradbury Hill
Man, we got Presidential candidates debating dusty tomes from days of yore and their dick sizes. Man, they’re doing that while we got the entire universe to explore. Man, we got people vigorously arguing over the quality of men in tights and their moving picture shows. Man, they’re doing that while the Cosmos offers us escape. While the Cosmos offers us resources. While the Cosmos offers us Hope.
Monday Morning Commute: the whirlybird of universal disconstants
Looking back upon my past, over the past (six months), of the past (several years), two questions have arisen. The first one, perhaps obvious, is: who am I? The second one, perhaps obvious, perhaps not obvious, is: who was I? It’s easy to sift through the wreckage, the diamonds, the wrecked diamonds of your past these days. Facebook and Timehop provide constant reminders of what you were doing, this day, year, years, eons, ago. A feedback loop of experience. Remembering the remembrances, especially if you share those memories of memories. A feedback loop of experience.
I don’t know if I’ve gotten older (slowed down) or I’ve gotten older (matured) or if I’ve gotten older-older. But, this much is certain: I do not recognize the Man piercing time-space from the Linear-Past. Or more accurately: I do not recognize when I stopped being the Man piercing time-space from the Linear-Past, and became the older-older, more haunted, more nostalgic CaffPow.
Weekend Open Bar: Reality’s Latest Patch Notes
I should really write these things on Thursday. In that case the column wouldn’t really be written during The Weekend when I composed it, but you would be none the wiser! Temporality is a lie! We sit upon the string, God and Her Ones looking down upon us, just a swift step to the left of linear-time-space. And we are all none the wiser! What would we do if we could perceive the non-linear linearity of our own linear-time-space! Me? I’d probably just smoke more weed and play more video games. Same as usual, just twisting the knob a bit more to the left.
Swift steps to the left, twist knobs to the right! What the fuck am I even doing here?
Oh yeah! Weekend Open Bar! The weekly one-stop outpost where all the Empresses and Emperors of their own Existential Ship can dock for a bit. Share what they’re up to during the weekend. Be it the food they’re eating, the turds they’re taking, the lovers they’re taking, the souls they’re eating. Whatever the case. The movies, books, gifs, and games!
Tuesday Afternoon Commute: The Blood-Blue Atmosphere
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m late. Yeah, yeah, yeah, it is Tuesday. Afternoon. Commute. I don’t really have a good excuse, outside of the general fatigue-ennui-desire for distraction that follows a workday. Get home. Fill face. Watch episode of TV show. Play Video Game for three hours. It’s not a hell of a life, but it’s a life. It’s not a hell of a life, but it’s a common one. So here I am. Somewhere. Just a pea in a pod of communal existential drift, wasting away towards The End and not really being That Upset About It.
I got a wife and a dog and soon a kid and soon old age and soon a funeral. Hey, what can you do? Revolutions are for white girls in Movies. Revolutions are for olden times and future times, neither of which I will see. I got a wife and a dog and soon a kid and soon old age and soon a funeral.
But for this week, this pesky week? I got a collection of Entertainments and Arts and Distractions to ease the slow sloughing of the mortal coil .
This is my list of them. I hope you’ll join me in the comments section. Sharing what you’re digging this week.
Weekend Open Bar: Elsewhere & Otherwise
It is a melancholic Weekend Open Bar, friends. For while I open the doors to the Tavern with arms-spread welcomingly, the very cracking of the doorframe signals doom. Or namely, it signals the dusk of my Spring Break. A sad time. A bad time. Every moment a march towards the return to hour-and-a-half commute and pants. And pants! Oh, I haven’t worn a pair of real pants since last Saturday. My ever burgeoning waistline not tortured by restriction, nay, but instead comforted by the glory of an elastic waist.
Monday Morning Commute: We’re all Cybertrash at The End of the Digital World
This is Monday Morning Commute. During Sprang Break! Spring Break! Sprang Spring Break Break! What’s up, meat-bags. How are the Feeds treating you? Do you feel well? Has your primal reptile-brain-piece been sated by the constant deluge of gifs, memes, lists, inconsequential SportNews, and other miscellany? Of course not. Of course not. We cannot ever get enough, for the Physical can never be Sated. Such is life. Such is life.
Upload your mind to a computer and face the horror that you cannot slough off Primordial Want simply when you slough off your mortal coil. Genetics transcend the Physical. They’re hard-coded into our circuits, no matter whether those circuits eat up meat-space or cyber-space.
But hey, that’s fucking okay. We’re in this together. Whether we’re nano-clouds in the NanoCloud, or whether we’re meat-monkeys in the HardSpace.
While we’re here, Here, or here, let’s share what we’re looking forward to this week. Let us share the various distractions that we hope will (and secretly know will not) fill the gaping maw in our Existential Guts.
I’ll go first. I hope you join me in the comments.
‘Daredevil’ Season 2 Trailer: They’re Called The Hand
Oh man. Talk about an action-suffused trailer.
