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rambles and half-essays

Tag: journal

  • rage and trying our best

    KM Brunner

    Often I feel like I’m not doing enough. Enough work, enough connecting, enough good. There isn’t a cure for feeling this way; it’s a cyclical process, to feel content, discontented, angry, desperate, determined, and content again. It’s unrushable and right now, for me, only just bearable.

    Because I am so tired. It isn’t burnout – or it is, just not a kind I’m familiar with.

    A week ago, I was walking home from Davis Square when I started to notice that the sidewalk was filling with people. It got more packed until the crowd erupted into Tufts Park, along with metal barricades and yelling and two people being cuffed by the Boston Police Department.

    All that sounds very dramatic but it wasn’t. The yelling was from bullhorns – “go to Harvard Square!” – and the arresting of protesters seemed like an activity both parties (protester/cop) were submitting to, rather than relishing. A reporter and his cameraman sat on a curb smiling, sharing a cigarette or a sandwich (couldn’t see in the dusk), and I walked into the park and around the barricade without issue.

    Not even a sideways glance from a cop.

    I was carrying a bouquet of tulips. Someone complimented them (the flowers were gorgeous) and I said thank you, hoping they thought I was carting flowers around for a good cause. Really, the tulips were given to me for five years spent working at the university. A corporate gift.

    Part of me wanted to go to Harvard Square with the protesters, but mostly I wanted to go home. I had a long day, so I denied the part of me that wants to do good. I don’t know if I regret it.

    Rage is an emotion that exhausts; I feel a lot of it, which is why I’m so tired. It’s making me feel my age for the first time in my life, which is a weird symptom I didn’t expect.

    Like most of these entries, I don’t have a conclusion. There’s nothing for it, anyway; our rage is alive and almost creaturelike – autonomous. It’s all I can do to keep it leashed, you know?

    Recommendations:

    Music: Billie Eilish is growing into her voice. This live session blew me away.

    1. Over the weekend I went to the Power of Narrative Conference at Boston University and it was inspiring. Terrifying, but inspiring.
    2. Been bringing the books I don’t want in my library to a used bookstore for credit. It’s just a good thing to do! I don’t want them to get pulped, which is what I think happens to a lot of book donation places.
    3. A friend of mine started playing regularly at Café Zing in Porter Square! They’re very good and so is the café.

  • they say romance sells

    KM Brunner

    With the next four years looking confusing and concerning, I figured I should turn on my marketing brain and try to write something sellable. In general, I love what I write. I follow my interests. But I’ve only got my one job, and diversifying my income seems like a good idea.

    That said, I’m only one person and diversifying means more work, work that I don’t know if I have time for. And so I am looking at the things I can change, things I can make work for me. I know that with writing, I might be able to pivot and maybe, just maybe, be able to sell whatever comes of it.

    My first instinct is to turn to genre fiction – maybe romance. Who knows? The last time I tried to write romance it did not go well. That said, I was writing a boring, hyper-straight couple because I thought I wanted to sell my soul. I’m not going to do that, this time.

    Or I could get back to music reviews. I did that for years; there might be opportunities there.

    I’ll keep you updated on my progress. I’m frightened. I do not like that these posts are getting more personal as time goes on, but it’s difficult to separate myself from, well, everything else. It takes effort to stay objective, and most of my effort is going into staying sane.

    Recommendations:

    Music: Sugar in the Tank, Julien Baker/TORRES (folk/indie rock)

    Book: Reading plays lately. Just started Fences by August Wilson.

    Things:

    • I’m redoing my wardrobe, but I also have a conscience, so I’ve been buying from ThredUp, an online thrift store.
    • Here are my glasses. I wanted to look like a librarian or a detective in a small town. Not sure if I got it right.

  • journaling and being mean in secret

    KM Brunner

    Most days I journal before I go to bed. Though the entries are exceptional only in their mediocrity, I’m fine with that. I endeavor to be bad when I’m writing for myself. I like that I can get to a place where I stop trying. The entries can be, sometimes, mean-spirited and arrogant. They can be full of yearning and are often (embarrassingly) pathetic. I read one recently that made me want to vomit, it was so delusional. Made me think:

    She just didn’t like you that much, you nitwit.

    But I have to put that garbage somewhere. Lately I’ve found myself interested in the act of journaling, of my process and others’. My process is unremarkable. I’d like to start writing things that matter, eventually. Seems like more work, but I want the entries to be more fun for my future self. Ideally, in a few years I could sit and, entry by entry, watch myself develop. Instead I’ve got lists of each day’s events and my failings (which doesn’t make for great reading).

    I have complicated feelings about reading the private writings of anyone, even long-dead authors, but a few days ago I read two of Virginia Woolf’s diary entries. They’re hilarious in their frankness and their fearlessness. Though it makes me feel a little sick, I’m going to include a couple lines because the writing made me laugh out loud.

    “I’m somehow reminded of an excellent highly polished well seasoned brown boot by the look of him.”

    “The book is a disgracefully sloppy sentimental rhapsody, leaving Rupert rather tarnished.”

    In some ways I suppose you could read her diary as unkind, but it’s a goddamn diary. Mine can be downright malicious. I am thrilled that they’ll never have a reader.

    In some ways you could consider this blog a journal but it’s not. It’s for you, not for me. I know someone might read these posts so I’m careful, more specific with my wording, etc.- even if the writing reads casually. I make Decisions (cap-D) here. In my journal, sometimes I don’t even write the words out, just the first letters.

    Also, my cursive is illegible. Someone called it “personal hieroglyphics” once. It’s doctor cursive, if you know what I mean. 

    I wish I structured this post to end with a lesson, or with a conclusion at all, but I started with no plan and it seems I’ll finish with only loose ends. That’s okay.

    Recommendations:

    Music:

    God. Get ready to cry. Jason Isbell is one of the great lyricists of our generation. He’s a folk artist with an Americana vibe. He sings this song with his wife.

    I really dislike the music video so here’s a live performance:

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JV7c8V5XLk8
    1. Turned my cellphone screen to greyscale and I hate it even more. It’s been fantastic. My screentime is down to like 45 minutes a day, maximum. Now if only I could match that with my computer. I’m working on it!
    2. Just read the bit of the Old Testament where David and Johnathan become besties and oh my God is it gay. The wording is just like wedding vows and it’s WILD. Love that Christians simply ignore it (I’m livid).
    3. This person (D’Angelo) is making shortish video essays at a worrying rate, but they’re fabulous:
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmNTwFdC9L0

  • long time no see

    KM Brunner

    I’m not sure why but I’m trying to work and write this post at the same time. I’ve been doing a lot of writing and also a lot of working. That’s not necessarily important for this post but I figured I’d say it so I’d feel compelled to write tonight. I have a schedule and I’m sticking to it as well as I can. Sometimes it’s difficult but I’m trying to push through that.

    I said in my last post that I find it hard to relate to people sometimes. I just cut off a romance I’d been in – she’s amazing, which sucks for me – because I couldn’t fully relate to her. She’s very cool but I’m a little intense. I know that about myself.

    Fortunately, she’s not as intense as me. Romantically, I need someone as specific as I am, but I’m happy for her, because she’s probably less stressed out. I’d rather her enjoy herself and never see me again than try to get through to me and watch me drown in self-pity (I’m working on it, ok).

    This post is more personal than I intended it to be.

    Anyway, work is difficult enough that I want to lay facedown on the floor and cry about it. I vacillate wildly from productive to miserable and am finding it difficult to steady myself. Honestly…I think I’m just so, so tired. I’ve been thinking of applying to different jobs but even that feels like too much.

    Then again, I may just be hungry. Or sad that I had to let that woman go. Or maybe I miss my friends.

    Could be because I’m all angsty about things. We’ll never know.

    Time for some recommendations.

    Music: “Never Surrender” – Combichrist

    This is a dark industrial song. Like if NIN had a baby with a male Poppy. I really enjoy it but it’s not for everyone.

    I’m currently reading:

    • Interview With the Vampire (I get why it’s so popular, but good Lord the book is wild).
    • The annotated version of The Phantom Tollbooth. I love this book. It’s my favorite book, actually. I think it’s the best children’s lit I’ve ever read.
    • Hum by…some woman whose name I can’t remember. I’m writing this at the office and my copy is at home. It was part of Book of the Month, which I canceled a long time ago. It’s a speedy read.

    I’m having a tough time thinking of things to share, so I’ll be going now.

  • the Church is haunting me while I’m asleep

    KM Brunner

    I said a few weeks ago that I was not going to stop at one post about spirituality, so here is the second.

    I am being haunted by Catholicism in my sleep. They aren’t bad dreams, but they’re confusing and when I wake up, they frighten me a little. I try very hard not to lean into delusion. Some days I consume weird Catholic content and so I dream about it. I have an aunt who is a nun, some priest friends, and so I dream about the clergy. Easy-peasy-resting-easy.

    That said, there are things in my life that I can’t explain. My easy fix: simply don’t think about them.

    I don’t believe in the Church. I think the institution is rather rotten and I’m not interested in the Bible as a historical document. It comes across as metaphor to me, and so I treat it that way. All the lessons still read the same – and I don’t even have to lie to myself.

    Now if everyone else got on board…

    That’s a little unfair, I know. I’m sure there are people who actually believe in the story. In the resurrection of the dead, the life of the world to come…

    What if Jesus’s resurrection in the Bible is an allegory for the resurrection of his teachings? Same takeaway, no delusion, and honestly? Better writing.

    So I don’t think I can call myself a Catholic. I also don’t consider the Bible my end-all-be-all of spiritual texts. I’m interested in the Tao, I’m interested in meditation, the Bhagavad Vita, etc. They are all in conversation with one another anyway, and who am I to ignore that? Who am I to dismiss all that tradition? Ridiculous.

    But then there are the dreams, you see. That is why they’re frightening. When I’m awake, Christianity is just a pretty story. While I sleep, I’m…

    In the last one I was a nun. I was happy, too. Happy and cloistered and spiritually fulfilled. I was smiling at my sisters and wearing a habit and the abbey was warm in the morning sun. I woke up upset.

    ‘Cause that’s completely out of my reach. If I were to pursue being a nun, I would hate it. I would 100% despise it. I wouldn’t be able to stay true to my spiritual vows. I think the frustration would get to me, and eventually I’d say something about it. Something like:

    “Why can’t I be a priest?”

    I think about that a lot. Some women are priests. I’m not like that, though. I’m nowhere near positive enough to try to forge a path for women in the Church. Those people are strong in a way that I find intimidating. I’d envy them if their road didn’t seem so fraught.

    I suppose my big problem is that I don’t want to be a priest unless I get the weight of tradition along with it. But I don’t want to be a man and don’t think I could fake it well enough to get through seminary.

    And so I learn about Catholicism and I think about the saints and I worry about spiritual psychosis and the young people who were victimized because of it. I go to classes and fantasize about being one of the original monks who just…walked into the desert.

    I sometimes go to church. When I do, I feel that secret-sacred tether that reminds me that there’s more to those dreams than just the jumbled remnants of my day. Then I leave and try to convince myself that feeling is just the product of a beautiful service.

    I am trying my best.

    I don’t like the idea of being religious and I’m not. I’m curious and stubborn and desperate to prove to myself that I can dismiss those moments as chemical. Something tangible.

    ///

    Though it feels inappropriate, I’m still going to include recommendations!

    Music: Misere mei, Deus – Tenebrae (on theme!)

    Actual fun stuff:

    Comic: Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees is complete! The whole series was wild but it ended in a nice place.

    • Finally getting back to writing. I write on a Remarkable tablet. They’re like a Kindle with a word processing function. I can’t do the computer all the time so it’s fabulous.
    • I love this podcast about CNF (the podcast is hosted by the guy whose website this is): https://brendanomeara.com/

  • change, distraction, and worry

    KM Brunner

    I have a problem. It’s not a big problem, but it is one that’s taking up a lot of space in my brain:

    I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be writing.

    I worry, probably several times a day, that there’s something missing from the novel I’m working on. I think, unhelpfully, that I should be pursuing one of my other projects. I think maybe, just maybe, I should be writing nonfiction. I used to write nonfiction. I was rather good at it.

    It wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as fiction, but it was something I felt comfortable with.

    Then I step back and think: that was the problem with nonfiction in the first place. I wasn’t challenging myself.

    And so I go back to the book and the short stories but then, there, I have the same problem:

    I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be writing.

    It’s a fun thing, to have lots of ideas. It’s an enviable position, but I need to focus – and if I’m going to use the ideas, I need to whittle. I am trying to concentrate on the novel, but I want to submit a story once a month, so I always have a short piece I’m working on alongside the book. Sometimes that piece is fun. Sometimes I think it might be better than the novel.

    How can I know that, though? I can’t! I absolutely can’t. I’m a few chapters into a first draft and those are notoriously bad! Regardless, I’m hitting a pretty significant rough patch. Things are working, mostly, but I’m concerned about a few characters, I worry I’ve made the story too big, that the plot is too niche to be relatable – and worst of all, sometimes I think it might be boring.

    Is this what impostor syndrome is? I’m not worried about being a writer – I feel paralyzed because I am one.

    It’s enough to make me want to scream but I can’t give up writing. I know I’ll work through it. I’ll show up, every day, at my stupid little keyboard. Writing is an awful, sometimes parasitic, thing. It compels. It’s worse than music, and that’s saying something.

    Anyway.

    Here are some things I’ve liked over last month:

    • Song: Good Luck, Babe! – Chappell Roan. She’s blowing up, and she deserves it. Vocal chops like nobody’s business and actual musical, catchy, pop. They use real instruments and the mixing isn’t all flat like most pop these days. It’s just…good music.
    • I don’t drink, but when I’m craving a beer, I reach for an Athletic. I’m into the Hazy IPA lately.
    • I got a noir piece published. It’s called Apartment 11A.
    • I found my writing workshop group on Meetup. I’d recommend it!
    • St. John’s Seminary, the seminary attached to Boston College, is full of nice people and very, very interesting classes. I’m going to take Moral Theology next semester. I never thought I’d be taking a course with Catholic undertones but here I am. I’m just interested.

  • a good idea and a realization

    KM Brunner

    I’m not planning to keep a chronological diary here – no one needs updates on my life, but I do want to say that I’ve found a writing routine, courtesy of my lovely mother, who thought it up for me. It’s in the nighttime, which was something I hadn’t considered. I thought I’d be too tired, but it’s been fine so far.

    Moms tend to be right.

    Anyway, before I get to a list of things I’ve enjoyed this week, I want to ramble a little about authenticity and bodies. I’ve had a rocky relationship with my body, and it only got worse after the changes it went through due to my chronic illness, but over the last few years (and a lot of therapy), I’ve learned to listen to it better.

    I’m not talking about listening to it to keep it safe – that I’m generally good at. I’m talking about listening to what feels good to wear, what kind of hairstyle makes me happy, etc. Over the years, in addition to masking my personality, I’d masked my physical self expression. I wasn’t wearing the clothes I liked, I was picking at my skin because it didn’t feel like mine, and my hair felt like a hat. It was strange but I didn’t question it, because I’d felt that way for so long.

    And then, at the behest of my therapist, I started wearing boys’ clothes sometimes and I got my first tattoo. I pierced my own ears and got my bangs back. I wore big shirts so they didn’t touch my skin so much, and got rid of things with textures that made me feel gross. I didn’t realize how uncomfortable my own clothes made me until I started paying attention – listening.

    What I’m saying is that you’ve got to notice the small stuff. My tattoos – several, now – make me hate my skin less. I feel less self conscious in oversized, cotton clothes. You have no idea how much those small changes positively influenced my self image.

    I’m getting much too sappy – time to list some cool stuff:

    Song – symptom of life by WILLOW. I am embarrassed that I was embarrassed to enjoy this. I hate when I’m pretentious for no reason; it’s not flattering. I think it stems from envy. Anyway, I’m so happy for this young person – they’re really expanding into a genre that suits them. The song is very cool.

    1. My mom got me these cube timers and they’re so cute.
    2. Been really into the Book Club Radio sets – a very cool series with some great DJs.
    3. Thinking about finishing my sleeve with Cheddar at Boston Tattoo Company. They did my thigh piece and I love it.
    4. I absolutely love Jess Owens. She’s hilarious and the best “booktuber” out there. She’s not usually drunk, but I thought this video was very funny. Jess is honest, sincere, and she’s got such a wholesome vibe. Her dog and husband are sweet, too.

  • finding a writing schedule and failing miserably

    KM Brunner

    Writing advice is nothing but varied. Some is bad, some is good, some works for a few people and not for others, but one sentiment is repeated constantly: find a routine. People say it differently, like “write every day,” “show up to write,” “carve out some time each week,” etc., but they all mean the same thing: stick to a schedule and do the work.

    I’ve been searching for a workable writing routine for years. That search has turned up nothing. (Got advice? Please leave me some – I need it!)

    That’s not to say I don’t write; I do, and often. My issue is that I can’t predict it well. I haven’t found a way to bake it in to my day/week that makes it inescapable. Writing needs to feel inevitable, because my ADHD won’t let me do it otherwise. Instead it feels like a tether, another anxiety to add to my list (that only grows as I age).

    And so I try things. I’ve tried getting up early, staying up late, writing at lunch, choosing an hour in my day – or a half hour. I’ve tried cutting down my routine to 3 days/week, but I end up writing more and then feel as if I’ve screwed up the schedule. It’s clear to me that I need some structural help but I’m not sure where to go to get it.

    So – I’m asking for advice, if anyone reads this far. Just…leave me something. Comments are open.

    I’ve complained enough; time for a list:

    1. Duotrope – a way to find and save literary calls for submissions that I’m very impressed with. It’s 5 dollars a month, which is kind of a steal.
    2. Behind the Bastards, a podcast about the villains of history.
    3. This drawing teacher guy is the nicest man: https://www.youtube.com/@SketchBookSkool
    4. Song: PISTOLWHIP, by spilltab. Really interesting vocal production and an incredible hook. Cross between indie rock and electro-pop.

    Jacob reminds me of myself at my most manic – and at my best. He’s a genius to be sure, and much better at his craft than I’ll ever be at mine, but he explains things in ways that I relate to, which is a rare thing. It’s obvious he’s got intense synesthesia and maybe mild auditory hallucinations, too – just like me. 🙂

    Jacob’s done incredible things with his gifts and I haven’t, which is a little sad. I wish I’d had the time/opportunities he did – maybe I’d be further along in my artistic development. But no use dwelling on it!

    It’s nice to be able to experience his art, even if it is needlessly impenetrable sometimes. I think often he’s just playing with the form, ’cause when he wants to make something intensely beautiful, he does. He’s inspired me to write new music, and I’ve had moments I never would have experienced if I hadn’t listened to him talk, so I suppose I should thank him. 

  • 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.

  • learning to draw and imposter syndrome

    KM Brunner

    I’m an artist. I’ve identified myself as a writer and I am; there is no denying that and it’s my main art form. I am a musician too, and play gigs every now and then. I paint, but only abstracts, on old drop-cloth canvas from Home Depot. When I got into comics I told myself that I wouldn’t try my hand at it. I firmly made that decision. I thought that I could enjoy an art form and not partake, but here I am, buying ink and textbooks. I am doing fake art school like an asshole.

    I want to be able to bring my fiction outside my body and my words, but I’m not skilled enough to drag it there. The only thing for it is practice, I guess.

    I am objectively mediocre at drawing, and I don’t like being mediocre. It makes me feel sad and angry and, well, stupid. I didn’t think that picking up drawing would trigger all that but it has. I’m not even planning to release anything – not really. I suppose the problem is that I am judging myself.

    I’ve mostly conquered this problem with writing, but I thought that since I don’t care about my visual art nearly as much, I’d be able to skate on past this stage. But here I am, sitting around feeling inferior and bad. I’m rather good at putting my insecurities to the side and soldiering on, so I’m not worried about art block or writer’s block, but it does mean I can’t open a comic book without sighing.

    I’ve got no solution for this issue except to get better, and I know I will with time. While it happens, I know that my envy of others’ work needs to be channeled into admiration and an opportunity to learn.

    Anyway, it’s time to move on. I’ve got presents:

    1. Nan Goldin’s (photographer) “Advice to the Young,” which reflects a lot of my thoughts about artists’ needs and the world kids are inheriting from the older generation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlC3ym4-YaQ
    2. The sweetest thing – Pia Crambling (Grandmaster) commentates Anna Crambling’s (her daughter) chess games at a huge tournament in Iceland. It’s so heartwarming. Pia is analyzes the game while Anna plays it, and is visibly stressed out when Anna makes moves she doesn’t agree with, but is rooting for her daughter the whole time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3_VCUvHDAw
    3. Three Stanley Avenue Guest House – I stayed here a couple years ago and loved it. I’m hoping to book another trip soon. https://stanleyavenue.com/
    4. Speedball nibs/dip pen holders: https://www.speedballart.com/our-product-lines/speedball-calligraphy-illustration/speedball-pen-nibs/speedball-pen-sets/ (this is what I’ve been using to practice inking, along with regular India ink that’s the Blick brand.)