←

rambles and half-essays

Tag: essay

  • breaks are important

    KM Brunner

    When you work in higher education, sometimes you’re lucky enough to get a break when the students do, which is why I can’t leave academia. Counting weekends, I had 12 days off over Christmas and New Year’s. Initially I thought I’d try to be productive, but once the break began, it didn’t feel right to push myself. So instead of buckling down to write, I decided to do the opposite.

    Something felt wrong – fundamentally – in my writing practice. I couldn’t pinpoint it, so I figured I’d just wait until it came to me. Luckily, it did.

    The day before Christmas, my friend asked me to a blues jam. I love watching live music, and as a musician, I’m even happier when it’s improvised. A jam is like a sporting event to me.

    These musicians were fabulous and a few minutes in, I realized I was deeply, painfully (toxically) envious of them. When they asked me to play (the host lent me his guitar, which was sweet), I was aching for it. And while playing, the penny dropped.

    I hadn’t picked up my guitar in months.

    Years ago I realized that music (my first love) was integral to keeping myself sane, stable, creative. I suppose I forgot that.

    The moment I started writing music again (11 a.m. on Christmas morning), I felt something unlock in me. I knew that I’d be okay. I knew I’d recover creatively and felt very stupid for forgetting the thing that keeps me, me.

    It’s always weird to be ignorant of the obvious, especially when it’s to do with you. Embarrassing, really. ‘Cause I know this about myself. It’s something I try to watch out for! If I stop playing music, I’m supposed to do like, a mental audit.

    Unsurprisingly, I recovered my creativity over the week following my revelation. The callouses on my left hand returned. It felt like I’d returned, too.

    The first recommendations list of this year!

    Music: “This Town” by Trixie Mattel/Shakey Graves. It’s about a small town in northeast Wisconsin, a few miles from where I went to high school. The song (and Trixie’s voice) is simple but the second verse makes me cry. It nails the very specific vibe that part of the country has.

    Reading: The Factory by Hiroko Oyamada (trans. David Boyd). It’s a wild, surreal criticism of capitalism and office work masquerading as a novel. I really enjoyed it but it’s not for everyone. I have a feeling it’s even better in Japanese, but the translation is fine.

    Miscellaneous: I only use shortscale guitars because I have tiny hands. My forever guitars are this Fender Mustang (electric), and a GS-Mini Taylor (acoustic/electric).

  • interest or manipulation: how the algorithm fucks with us

    KM Brunner

    Hello! I talk a lot about creativity, art, etc. That said, I’m also a digital marketer. It’s my day job to be the villain of the internet, and though I do write about this – thematically – in almost every piece I work on, I try not to get into conversations about it in my real life.

    I am not exactly pro-internet. I’m certainly not anti-internet – it is a beautiful invention. What I do want us to acknowledge is that because the internet is made for the marketer, and not the consumer, you are being thrust into a power dynamic that will never, ever benefit you. As I’m sure you’ve heard, you’re the product. The platform sells you, and even if it’s not a typical data leak/sale, they’re still selling you.

    It’s worse than selling your information, I think. They’re not giving me your email, which you could theoretically ditch if you needed to; they’re giving me your eyes and your time.

    There’s a reason most tech employees with children don’t let their kids engage with the internet much – it’s the same reason I don’t use my phone very often. It is not made to make you feel good, it’s designed to hold you hostage by catching your attention, which means exposing you to extreme content. And so your echo chambers get more and more intense, prejudices get justified by outright misinformation, etc.

    The statement “the algorithm,” or “your algorithm,” is a horrifying one because it tells me how much the general public knows – but won’t acknowledge – about their online spaces. You know you’re being served content based on your interests…but that’s not quite it, is it? You’re being served content to pique your interest.

    That distinction is what’s radicalizing us.

    Oh, are you interested in getting a girlfriend? Having trouble? You could be too short. Do you have acne? Well, whatever – girls are mean anyway – I mean, obviously, because they don’t talk to anyone, especially not you. But maybe they’re not worth getting to know! They suck. Girls aren’t that smart, because God knows you’re a catch, even if you are short. But you can get taller – did you see that surgery? It’s expensive but you can get rich to get it, you just gotta grind. Then you might be able to compete. Because naturally tall guys are cool, sure…but they’re all such assholes, they don’t talk to you either! The popular people, those tall guys and their girlfriends, they’re why you don’t have friends. It sucks to spend all your time alone, huh? But there are tons of guys just like you, and they’re all so angry and lonely. It’s common to be so angry; everyone who’s interesting feels like that. Maybe normal people just aren’t worth it….at all?

    Do you know how to buy a gun?

    …

    The current internet leads us, it does not serve us. And if you don’t question the way it’s structured, maybe you will be influenced to buy that gun. Who knows? Radicalization can happen to anyone, especially to a vulnerable person.

    I have to stop writing about this or I’m going to cry. There are ways to use the internet that will hurt us less, but it requires willpower and reframing the way we see ourselves.

    In my opinion, there are two ways to remove oneself from this toxic digital landscape:

    1. Give up the internet. Leave. Make your art for yourself. Go to shows. Make friends, kiss those friends. Wake up to the sun and not the screen.
    2. Be painfully earnest and unflinchingly honest. Do not brand yourself – your personality will do it for you. Do away with shame, lean into being cringe. Make your art for twenty freaks at a time who you know will like it. Prioritize the art and not the sale. Free yourself and disobey the nature of the platform.

    I haven’t decided which approach I’m going to take, so stay tuned. Maybe me writing here – on the internet – is a tell, but that might change. This is not the first blog I’ve started.

    …

    I don’t even really smoke, and I need a cigarette.

    No recommendations today, but shout-out to the smoke shop around the corner whose door I’m going to darken in about ten minutes.