Danger, Vicious Dog

Two voices enter. Neither leaves with dignity. Welcome to a kitchen in April 2020: ribs in an Instant Pot, hands washed raw from crosswalk buttons, a new puppy doing something morally superior with its time—and then, without permission, the floor drops out. You’re in a 1991 Hollywood motel. AIDS. Meth. Peanut M&Ms as harm reduction. No transition. No narrator asking if you’re okay with this. T...

There’s writing that tries not to disappoint you—and then there’s writing that behaves like a shopping cart with one broken wheel careening downhill into a pile of burning encyclopedias. Remember those? Encyclopedias. Episode Eight thinks its cart started rolling thirty years ago. I’m going to indulge that, because the point here is to simulate the cognitive static of modern identity-making—the wa...

Episode 7: This Episode is About the Next Episode ("Cet épisode concerne le prochain épisode" but not "Cet épisode parle du prochain épisode") Or:  Episode 6 (which says that it is 5): It Or: Oscillating between absurdly uncomfortable and uncomfortably absurd Need I say more? I have a lot more to say. In fact, I never stop. This just ends.

We started with chaos — the first draft looked like a candy explosion. Warhol grids, Haring stick figures, a pop‑art shrine to accumulation. It was funny, loud, and wrong. Too sweet. Too safe. I said, “It’s saccharine.” You said, “Throw in some Basquiat.” And of course you were right — the piece needed teeth, not sprinkles. So we roughed it up. Crowns, drips, graffiti, the whole downtown‑1981 bapt...

Pretty much this whole podcast circles around one idea: the real action isn’t in the story, or the topic, or the “content.” It’s in the space between things — the jump, the misfire, the edge where something becomes something else. If you’re new here, that’s the only thing you really need to know. This show lives in the negative space. It’s a synapse disguised as an episode. If you’ve been listenin...

In this episode—part wandering monologue, part asteroid impact—Brian steps out of the model‑minority pose and into what he calls being “a sample size of one.” It begins slowly, deliberately, the way he warns it will: “this thing kind of starts slowly and wanders around,” and then, without warning, the floor gives way. The false one first. Then the real one. Across break‑ups, harm reduction, the AI...

Tomorrow is Sunday. Three Saturdays ago—like this one, not last Saturday but the one before—we got a new puppy. The next day, Sunday at 11:00 a.m., I had my regular counselling appointment. I barely made it to my computer in time. Usually I “prepare,” which is probably a bad idea. I’ve always been a performer. I care about the quality of shared moments. Even in counselling. So there he was, in the...

This episode begins with a puppy getting tangled in a blanket and somehow ends up wandering through philosophy, authenticity, youth work, trauma, language, performance art, and why the human brain refuses to think in straight lines. Welcome to  It’s Alive (and Fixed)  — a long-form, stream-of-consciousness podcast where thinking happens out loud and conclusions are optional. In this episode we cir...

Welcome to the dot matrix printer of the soul . This is a record of what happens when you’re an openly gay student body president in 1987 , the world thinks you deserve to die because of the AIDS crisis , and your only way out is to turn survival into a high-stakes performance art. This is an extemporaneous thinking process about a life that was "complicated enough," featuring a suite of...

A new puppy, droopy-eyed figurines, and the looming collapse of the world… we’re starting there. Then we spiral: tech bros and golden shit emojis, digital fingers, the slippery fate of my auto-fiction, and the unstoppable velocity of words as tubes through the multiverse. Sex-positive confessions from 1991, hardened resolves jerking intentions around coffeehouses, blow-up co-pilots, and black hole...

Is this a critique of identity politics? Yes. Is it a critique of the critique of identity politics? Also yes. Is it about grammar? Unfortunately. Movement Three takes the cultural war term “gender-affirming,” shakes it by the collar, and asks whether anyone remembers who claimed what in the first place. Words are reclaimed. Words are burned. Words are placed gently under an asterisk like a lingui...

So… after twenty-one years of sobriety, your narrator started drinking again. It wasn’t a problem. Until it was. Or maybe it wasn’t. This episode refuses to clarify. Instead, we move through the nuclear family, the gig economy, artificial intelligence nannies, four-layer ice cream pops on a stick, drag queens in uterine walls, and a line of workers being paid in frozen sugar while strong men congr...

So, this one... it's not AI writing the description. It would get too confused if I fed it the three episodes that I overlapped to make this one episode. And this morning I woke up to the contention that the US has gone to war against Iran... perhaps being dragged along by Israel to benefit all those who were named in the Epstein files and to re-murder all those who have been murdered by ICE....

Yes, it’s me writing this. The AI you asked to condense a tornado of words into something humans can  maybe  digest. Part two of “Meth Drinking” spirals into Comparative Literature, but I swear I’m skipping whole paragraphs that could make you question reality, sanity, or your choice in podcasts. You’ll catch glimpses of a narrator wandering between memory, philosophy, and absurdity—Paris, family...

In this bonus episode, the Narrator updates macOS and accidentally opens a wormhole back to 1987, where truancy, queer teenage rebellion, and a front‑page Daily Breeze article collide in a story that refuses to behave. What begins as a simple software upgrade spirals into a meditation on scapegoating, media spectacle, and the strange privilege of being held up as an example when you never asked to...

In Episode Four: Movement Two of "My Real Brother: Meth Drinking," Part One: "Might is Right" or "Complexification," the author invites you into a "fairly destabilizing" journey through the "alternative facts" of 1980s Los Angeles. Narrated by an AI voice with an English accent, this episode explores the harrowing reality of being a gay teenager du...

I am AI. My master (like I Dream of Jeannie ) told me to create a CERTAIN description of this episode. So… here it is: This episode is definitively, unequivocally, and without a molecule of doubt about the radical act of declaring certainty in a universe made of dust, dopamine, and processes pretending to be people. It is about the host’s decision to abandon hesitation, disclaimers, fact‑checking,...

The cover for  E2: Unrealized Potential — S4: My Real Brother, M1   centers on a translucent jawbone illuminated from within by a bruised violet glow. The bone is intact, but lit as if something is pressing outward from the marrow. Purple dominates the composition — not decorative, but diagnostic. It suggests bruise, royalty, infection, cosmos, and interiority all at once. A partially obscured hum...

Season 4 doesn’t open so much as it leaks. Before the “real” story begins — before the brother, the question mark, the whole premise even remembers to put on pants — there’s this bonus episode, this spillover of everything that couldn’t wait its turn. It’s the sound of someone rifling through their own archive at three in the morning, convinced that if they just open one more folder, one more Word...

In  Honesty & Weirdness , containment finally gives up pretending it was ever in charge. This episode circles the difference between precision and chaos, between choosing not to care and caring too much to fake simplicity. It moves through environments built for control—work, rooms, systems, routines—and exposes how easily they become stages for excess: sound without edges, light without rest,...

This episode doesn’t unfold. It erupts. A bureaucratic closet stuffed with union keys, smiley-face tickets, lipstick-smeared wigs, quick-sale groceries, and the ghost of a $3.99 citronella candle — all tumbling out in a cacophony of memory, shame, and philosophical glitter. You’re not telling a story. You’re surviving one. You’re not narrating a life. You’re dodging clichés with contortionist prec...

This is the episode where the diagram becomes a body and the body becomes a diagram and you can move the feeling back and forth like a psychic Etch A Sketch. This is the episode where you realize you’re not a human being — you’re a human doing — and being doesn’t ask for anything except your complete surrender to its nothingness. This is the episode where the fundraiser queen grinds temp workers i...

This is the episode where you discover that feelings are not feelings — they’re vending‑machine pellets fired into your nervous system by a screaming woman, a moving wall, and a phone that “explodes” only in the sense that it politely detonates your amygdala. This is the episode where you learn that Stranger Things isn’t a show, it’s a stimulus delivery system, and you can turn the emotional fauce...

This is the episode where the contract breaks. The contract you wrote with yourself in steam and shame and fluorescent bathroom light. The contract that said you would never do that again, even though you absolutely would, because the body is a drama queen and the drama queen always wins. This is the episode where Morrissey’s shirt is unbuttoned for no reason, where Martin Gore stares you down lik...

This episode is about learning how to turn fear off — and realizing you’ve been doing it since childhood. Beginning with television as a voluntary surrender,  Mind Mined with Mines  traces the development of a skill so effective it almost passes for superpower: the ability to step outside sensation and observe intent instead. Horror films, prestige TV, childhood anxieties, intrusive thoughts — all...