#August2018
Weekend Open Bar: Salt + Charcoal
Salutations, fellow denizens of the Space-Ship Omega. It is I, your over-caffeinated, mentally-compromised captain! Why, when I’m not hurtling us into the gaping maw of echo-chamber buffoonery, talking about my own dick (and how it pumped, oh did it pump for the Doom Eternal gameplay), and generally embarrassing myself, I like to open up the Open Bar on the weekend! I know, oh do I know. I’m infrequent these days. Apologies all around. Here, here. Take a moist, poorly-wrapped candy from my pocket. Here, here. Take an I.O.U, redeemable for approximately one brutal high-five and chest-bump.
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Views From The Space-Ship: Every Piece Matters
Woot, woot! It’s a Desktop Thursdays, my friends! I know, it’s a Friday. But you can’t get choosy when dealing with my dumb ass! Be grateful I’m even posting it at all, ya feel? It’s been a minute. A hot fucking minute since I last posted one. Just, you know, been busy. Slogging through the miasma of reality, experiencing some highs, experiencing some slows.
But those are tales for another time! Right now, I’m gonna show you my fucking world(s)! Then I hope you show me your own in the comments section!
Monday Morning Commute: it’s that summer time magic
Bet you thought you had seen the last of me, fuckers! It’s been a hot minute since I cranked out one of these Monday Morning Commute columns. I’ve returned, though. Full of vim and vigor, ready to golly gee knock this one right out of the fucking park! The fahhhkin’ pahk, kehd! Actually, that’s a handful of goose shit. In fact, I was laying on the futon in my office nary two hours ago just fucking zoning out, man. But here we are.
I’m still sucking wind, thankfully. My summer course is winding down, thankfully. And, OL still exists. Thus, it seems clear that I must carry out the car-crash that is the column! Give you folks, you fucks, the ole rundown of what I’m up to this week. You know, the games I’m playing. You know, the books I’m reading. That sort of tomfoolery.
Then, if you’d be so obliged, join me in the comments section! Tell me, what you’re cranking it to this week. Be it literally, be it figuratively! Both!
I’ll go first.
Weekend Open Bar: the turtles were on to something
Welcome to Weekend Open Bar, my friends!
I’m not dead, not sad, just busy these days my friend! That said, I apologize! How the fucking fuck have you fucking folks been? Me? I feel eerily content. Not euphoric which is rare, not happy which is fleeting, but generally content. I can’t explain it. Or, rather, I suppose I can. Teaching is fantastic, my diet is good, I’m getting a lot of sleep and exercise, and by god, I swear it, yoga fucking works.
Monday Morning Commute: Nervous about not being nervous
Pop-quiz, dick heads! What does a tranquil, peaceful weekend mean, after a tumultuous spring? Does it mean that I’m feeling good about my mental health? Or, does it mean I’m incredibly skeptical, and wondering when the shoe will drop? If you guessed the former, you are beautiful and give me too much credit. Anyways, yeah! I feel good. It’s nice. It’s fleeting, oh I’m sure, but it’s nice. Thankfully, I have a good amount I’m either enjoying or going to be enjoying this week, and I’m about to drop them on your ass. After all, that’s the very point of this here Monday Morning Commute. Then, I hope you’ll share your own haunts and happenings in the comments section!
Weekend Open Bar: A Horizon Worth Chasing
If I’m being honest, I’ve been staring at this fucking blank text box for about a half-an-hour. Intermittently, I’ll hop on tumblr, stare at some asses, and pop back. Waiting, you see, for something to say. But, I don’t have anything! Not today. No friends, no way. I suppose I could prattle on about how I’m happy it’s the Weekend. So fucking happy, too.
So fucking happy, too, despite the fact that it was a short workweek. However, I think this happiness stems from the fact that I genuinely despise my job these days. Not the teaching part. That’s fucking fantastic. Rather, the other miscellany I must put myself through to pay the bills, because the life of an adjunct is tenuous at best. I don’t know! I don’t, seriously. I exist in a weird liminal state these days. I’m between teaching in the Spring, and teaching my summer class. As well, I’m between the Spring semester I just taught, and figuring out what I’m going to do next Spring.
Views From The Space-Ship: Chaos Reigns Supreme
There’s a stunning, albeit welcomed, banality to my life. To skip two weeks of Desktop Thursdays, the column where I share with you both my virtual and tangible worlds, and look back and find emptiness. Placidity. Nothing much to report, over and out. Nothing much to comment upon, over and out.
I’m here this week, though, with said column. And I’ll share, with you said worlds.
I hope you’ll do the same in the comments.
Tuesday Afternoon Commute: On Intimate Terms With Catastrophe
There can be something exhilarating and freeing about a condemned, Post-Hope existence.
Sure. I utter this from a plateau. From a monument of privilege.
My wife makes good money, I got a dick, can pass for straight, and sport a blanche complexion.
With those caveats in tow, I mean, this rotting obelisk doesn’t seem so intimidating. It may be a survival technique, these gallantly leapt hoops I am gallantly leaping through. But what else would you ask of me?
The seas rise, the Earth heats, the resources dwindle, the population increases. Those in charge predicate power and greed over empathy and charity.
It’s done. It. Capital “I”, if you will. Shot through the heart. To carry on itself seems a tip of the cap to existential absurdism.
What else to do, what else would you have me do? A little mild resistance during the day. But the heart weakens, the mind fatigues, respite is earned and welcome.
So I fuck, and I smoke a little weed. I laugh with friends, go out to dinner with my wife. Enjoy movies, condemn liberal sophistic think pieces and conservative hate screeds alike. Play some video games, walk my dog. Marvel at the night sky and feel peace in the recognition that We Don’t Matter, We Never Mattered, And It will be fine when we’re gone. It. Capital “I”, if you will.
Every once in a while, I contemplate carrying on my lineage, am reminded that if anyone is getting off this melting marble it certainly won’t be an ancestor of my class and caste. I pass off that condemnation for another week, month, year, maybe forever. Can you imagine that? Willfully procreating at the end of civilization? Sometimes I can. Sometimes I can’t.
I have no words of encouragement other than we’re all down in the bottom decks of this wonderful, wicked, pointless sinking ship together. So fuck it, and fuck it together.
Let’s spend some time chatting. There’s nothing really else to do.
