#July2020
Weekend Open Bar: Hope You’re Well
It’s the motherfucking weekend, bay-bay! Not a moment too soon. Not a moment too late. Everything its place, as it should be. On a cosmic scale, at least And we’re being honest, as it only could be. For the Universe marches on, regardless of our consciousness and its impact upon it. That said, hey! Sort of fucking freeing, no?
Nothing matters, everything matters, and most importantly — shit’s just carrying on. So, let’s take care of one another, be it in this community, and all the other ones you belong to.
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Weekend Open Bar: Passionfruit
Oh, fuck! It’s the Weekend. Oh, fuck! It’s the Weekend Open Bar! Oh, fuck! My wife told me I only have ten minutes to Open the Bar. And, and, and, you know. Between fiddling with the volume control on my speakers, messaging a couple of friends, and, you know. Do you know? ‘Cause I don’t. Where the fuck is the time going? Oh, fuck! Time, it bleeds, life it bleeds, the universe it slowly, slowly bleeds out. Us, it, none of us truly conscious of it! Stay focused though, man! There ain’t time for your usual existential blatherings.
This is Weekend Open Bar!
The cure-all, catch-all weekly column at the end of the work week! Where I, your Captain and Local Garbage Lord, implore you to come and hang out! Share what you’re eating, watching, watching while eating, playing, et cetera. So on. So forth.
Get high, get drunk, get hard, get soft, whatever, whatever, whatever! It’s all good here. So long as you don your most welcoming and affable of affectations and share what you’re up to this weekend. Shoot the shit, if you will.
This is Weekend Open Bar!
Weekend Open Bar: To The Left of Reality
My wife is really good at throwing wood into the wood stove that heats our sunroom during the Winter. Someday I’m going to be typing this from a shelter, or a shack, or my backyard. You see, she’s really good at throwing it. Ashes are really good at flying into the air. Burning embers are really good at hitting the tile, and not the rug.
But woah boy!
Someday them embers are going to hit the rug. I’ve seen it.
But woah boy!
Someday them embers are going to ignite the rug, maybe the dog, definitely the house. I’ve seen it!
In fact, somewhere across the OMNIVERSE, in an incredible amount of Universes, this is happening now.
Somewhere: my pubic hair, which dangles to the ground, is igniting from those embers.
In fact, somewhere across the OMNIVERSE, in an incredible amount of Universes, this is happening now.
Somewhere: my dog, which is also a dinosaur, which is also Jesus Christ, is turning nipple milk into water, drowning those burning embers.
I’ve seen it!
Anyways — until she burns down the house here, until the embers take down this dry ass house in this dry ass state on this perpetually dry ass Planet — until then — I will be celebrating Weekend Open Bar from my couch.
Right here!
Weekend Open Bar! Come come, folks. Celebrate the weekend with me. Come come, folks. Tell me what you’re up to this weekend!
Weekend Open Bar: Death Never Looked So Good
Let’s get this out of the way. I know I live a privileged life, full of privilege-laden problems. That said, I am still colossally grateful that it is the weekend. I know I live a privileged life, full of privilege-laden problems. That said, I’m still glad that I have this wonderful little community to buoy me on my more trying weeks.
The fucking dog is fine, the fucking plumbing is fine.
It’s a long weekend.
Life’s better than okay, it’s pretty good. And, my mind will certainly plug its own psychic holes with a couple of days of sleep-based sealant applied.
So come, Comrades.
So come, citizens, voyeurs, and vacationers of the Space-Ship Omega.
Join me here in the one, the only, Weekend Open Bar.
Weekend Open Bar: heaven’s receding smile
It’s 6:30 pm on a Friday evening here on the Eastern Seaboard of the Empire, Earth-Prime. I am pleased by it being both Friday and an evening. It can mean only one thing! It’s time for Weekend Open Bar. It can mean only two things! It’s time for Weekend Open Bar and relaxation! It can mean only three things! Four things! Five things!
An infinite amount of things cascading across an indifferent and infinite Universe!
Weekend Open Bar: Knobs and Curses
Weekend Open Bar! Come one, come all! Step right up into the saloon. Hang your jacket up by the fire, ignoring the blood trails. Step right up to the bar. Order your favorite drink, ignoring the bartender’s third eye. Step right up to the gathering in the corner. Tell me what you’re up to this weekend, ignoring my phlegmy laugh, and the circles under my eyes.
This is the weekly weekend column where we weakly, meekly, or enthusiastically (accounting for everything in-between) hang out. Sharing what we’re looking forward to this weekend. Be our foods, our games, our comics, our books, whatever the case! This is the place. Whatever the case!
Weekend Open Bar: The Technicolor Media Vomitorium of The Future-Present
It’s the Weekend Open Bar! Brought to you on Saturday! Sponsored by extra caloric consumption, really nice weather here on the Northeastern arm of the Empire, and sleeping today until 11:30! How are you doing? Let’s be brief. This is the Weekly Column where we all spend the next couple of Free Days (theoretically you’re free, but realistically you may be like one of many people working) hanging out. Sharing what we’re up to.
Sharing!
Monday Morning Commute: Nuka Cola, Nuke A Sky, Nuke Your Soul
Feel like every time I pen one of these, my wife is out on business. But that’s what you got to do, when you make the big bucks in the family. Feel like every time I pen one of these, and my wife is out on business, I’m about to order pizza. But that’s what you got to do, when you’re a fat kid masquerading in a chubby kid’s body, and you refuse to cook for yourself. Feel like every time I pen one of these, I’m just winging it. But that’s what you go to do, when you’re exhausted from teaching and then tutoring for six hours straight, and you ain’t ate until eight or maybe even late(r).
Weekend Open Bar: Across the 8th Dimension
(Note: I started writing this Friday. It is now Saturday. I apologize. Life, man.)
I’m very excited for this weekend. It’s totally not because I popped a Sudafed for my allergies and it has slicked the synapses of reality, allowing me to glide across Existence with nary a care! I mean, how can you not be excited when it’s the weekend! And the stimulants in your blood tell you Everything Is Okay and Things Will Be Fun This Weekend!? Fuck, Sudafed! Mi amor! Mi amor!
This is Weekend Open Bar! Pop whatever sort of chemical into your bloodstream you want, and come hang out! Pop whatever sort of food into your stomach you want, and come hang out! Pop pop pop! Whatever you want! Everything is allowed, save for snark and bite. We keep it positive here, folks.
Tuesday Afternoon Commute: [Insert Perfunctory Title]
It’s Tuesday Afternoon Commute! I’m lazy. Yesterday it was a holiday here in the Boston-based Existence. Patriots’ Day. This meant a long weekend for the wife and me, which meant I was too busy sitting on my ass with her to write up a dollop of inciting (to post, not to engulf the world in fanboy-fueled fury) prose for you all. So here I am!
