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The Ends of the Earth

September 1st, 2025

There’s a trend, but it’s not new; it’s as old as internet time (was there anything before?). It’s the idea of sharing something that absolutely does not need to be shared, in order to signal to others what tribe or political feed you subscribe to.

There’s a version of this making the rounds this week (see: my last essay about ugly), in which a person “bravely” announces that they will be raising their boys as boys and their girls as girls, because the world is already so confusing and God something something, as if this stance is not the default mode in which humanity has been raising children since the beginning of our species.

This, to me, appears to be a decision one can make in the comfort and privacy of their own home, with their own family, no formal announcement necessary — unless they’re trying to say something else.

But who’s to say?

I imagine a dad who says, “I’m going to raise a soldier, because that is the only job that means anything to me.” And he does everything he can to raise that job — not that child — ignoring who the kid is on the inside for the sake of what the dad wants him to appear to be on the outside.

So brave. Way braver than the search for meaning and purpose and identity nearly every human being has participated in since our inception.

We’re complex, and it’s fucking amazing. We’re not and have never been binary creatures; nothing about us is black or white, 1 or 0, and that includes the near infinite options that God (if you wish) has to choose from when it comes to our chemicals and chromosomes and genetics, the amounts and balances, our personalities and dreams and souls. It’s why a straight boy (hi) can be more effeminate and empathetic and into show tunes than other straight boys; it’s why an addict (hi) can’t have one after-dinner cocktail like other people can without it destroying his entire existence.

You know what posts are brave? The ones where a parent says that they’re going to follow their child to the ends of the earth; the ones where a parent vows their unconditional love. Do you know why? Because that is not the default. For every fucked up person, there is more than likely a fucked up parent or relationship or traumatic life event that found no healing or resolution. We say mental health matters; this administration took away $1 billion in mental health care this year so we are what we do, not what we say.

This photo is me, and I’m a witch. Not a wizard; a witch. I clearly wanted to be a witch and my mom was like “fuck yeah, you be a witch” and she helped me. It wasn’t confusing. It didn’t disrupt my worldview. It confirmed something that I never, ever doubted: my mom loved me unconditionally and she would go to the ends of the earth for me, her little witch.

If only every child could feel like this. If only their parents could stop politicizing every piece of their lives and just saw them, held them, protected them. Not from the big, bad world, not from abstract outside forces; from the insidious biases that feed on us all.

Quality

March 31, 2026

Eventually you will be unable to give any of yourself to this world.

I don’t mean to say this as a way to plunge you into a cold existential void. If anything, I want this to be a splash of cool water on your face, a reminder.

Human life is hard. Friction is a feature and found in every single atom of actually living it. That flowing resistance allows us to bloom. To watch people hand off the role of being human to A.I. isn’t just sad and disappointing; it’s tragic, it’s offensive, it’s inhuman.

I think of all the people who use it to write an email. Or a poem. Or draw a picture. All the things that make us uniquely us. And some of this may arise from laziness, but I think of the real fear those people must have; the fear that if they put themselves out there, it won’t be any good. And so they don’t try. They don’t participate in the only life they have because a device can produce a string of words that won’t electrify but also won’t reveal and, if someone doesn’t like it, can just be blamed on the machine anyway.

What the fuck are we doing?

I am being increasingly drowned in A.I., from the companies who insist on integrating it into every single product to the people in my day-to-day life who sincerely think that by using it, they’re being clever or forward-thinking, when the technology is pushing us backwards by destroying human thought before it begins. It is not only offensive but oppressive. And like common sense or compassion, this understanding seems to be something you can’t teach.

As a few people like to obsessively point out, I talk too much. I know. I overshare. I get it. But for fuck’s sake: I only get to be here once, only get to connect to the other people with me on this planet once. There is no romance in withholding and no conversation in silence. I talk a lot because it’s who I am, and I know it’s who I am because I’ve actually spent my entire life figuring me out and not delegating that work to a smart toaster.

I keep thinking about the idea of quality. Quality being something that is excellent or good and can only be determined by an embodied being.

I’ve spent my whole life, from coloring on pieces of loose leaf paper as a kid to going back to school to get my degree in graphic design, dedicated to art and the embodiment of quality, of being human.

I have never used A.I. in my work. For better or for worse, I wrote all my own words, drew all my own pictures, edited and designed those messes with my own hands and eyes, and put them out into the world when I felt like they said what I wanted to say. To you. To another human.

So what is it that you want to say? Because time is running out; that well will not refill. There will come a day when you can’t share any more of who you were while you were here. What are you going give and leave? Everything, or just some of your parts? And what parts of your only life are you going to outsource to an unfeeling, inhuman machine?

Let’s Commence

March 26th, 2026

So! I just learned this afternoon that I have been selected to be one of the commencement speakers at the 2026 DCTC graduation ceremony in May. This is an absolute honor and a total full-circle moment and I could use your help!

I already have a draft. (In fact, a draft was required for consideration; even though I was nominated, I had no idea how many stages this process would be!). But now I have an opportunity to expand and enrich this draft and that’s where you come in.

Over the years, I have written hundreds of essays here. If you’re reading this, then you’ve probably read some of them, too. So my question is: has anything from any of those pieces stuck with you? Like, are there words that regularly come to your mind because you encountered them through my mind first?

I really want to include those kinds of meaningful sentiments in my final speech, which is namely about change and the concept of being “undone” (which is also its title). Feel free to comment or message me about anything that comes to mind. Thank you in advance, and holy cow I’m going to give a speech at graduation!

BPA State Leadership Conference 2026

March 8th, 2026

I participated in my first Business Professionals of America State Conference yesterday and it was a blast!

I was definitely a theater kid in high school (ahem, drama club president here) so, between that and always having a job, I didn’t really have time for any other clubs or organizations. When I went back to school this time around, I made a conscious decision to participate in the kind of groups I didn’t get to when I was younger. That part of my adult educational experience has been magical.

I was president of the Creative Arts & Writing Club for almost two years, I’m a member of Phi Theta Kappa and my friend Erika suggested BPA as a relatively low time investment but highly rewarding and so fun. And she was right!

I ended up getting first place in two of my competitions and third place in another, which is pretty good for my debut! I got some solid feedback and it was all an excellent learning opportunity. I qualified for the National Conference in May, which takes place in Nashville this year, so I might take a little trip after graduation!

I totally recommend BPA for anyone who is curious about it. It’s a good place to network and the event itself was well-run and so enjoyable. I am not sure, however, how much more professional I am; my mischievous stripes just won’t seem to wash off.

Loons Opener 2026

February 28th, 2026

The key is to keep your feet warm.

This is my second year in a row going to the Loons home opener (yes, Allianz Field is an outdoor stadium; yes, our season currently begins in February). Last year, I wore normal ass socks inside normal ass shoes and I hung on to dear life like poor Jack Dawson; this year, I wore two pairs of socks inside winter boots that housed warming insoles and I have never been happier outside in 20° weather.

For the past few years, Minnesota United FC games have been my happy place. The world has been real dark and heavy and my personal life has been chaotic and ridiculously busy, but at a match I can genuinely achieve two halves worth of peace. I love the space and the people and the food and the sport itself and the phenomenal vibe all these parts combine to create, like a soccer Megazord.

I’m not saying that there’s no toxicity to be found here; I’m sure there is, somewhere. But, far and wide, I find Loons fans to be the most inclusive, intelligent and kind fans in sports. (Check out that massive Rebel Loon banner with the classic Andor quote: “We have friends everywhere.”)

Anyway, what an opener: our team looks fiesty as hell this year and we walked away with a 1-0 win and three more points on the board. I already have tickets to another game in May and am always looking to go to more. (This is my not-so-subtle way of letting everyone know that I’m your guy if you got an extra ticket. I’ll even buy you my favorite beignets.)

Also: I finally ran into PK at Allianz. Kids, dreams really do come true. Let’s have a hell of season.

Now Hireable

📸 by Steven Starks

February 23rd, 2026

It feels impossible to believe that in just about two months, I’ll be graduating from school with my AAS in Graphic Design. This unexpected and wildly rewarding part of my journey is coming to end.

That being said: I am currently and actively weighing my future. I’m bookmarking jobs and workplaces of interest while fine-tuning my resume and portfolio.

This post is an inquiry to my social circle: is anybody here looking for someone like me? I’m proficient with Adobe software, Microsoft Office, basic web building and CMS, with a ton of copy/writing skill and social media experience.

I’m a big believer in service and have over two decades worth of refined soft skills from the restaurant business. I care a lot. Some of my co-workers would probably say I’m pretty neat to work with. (They’ve never actually said this to me but I can tell.)

If you or your workplace is looking for these aforementioned qualities: drop me a line! Send me a message here or text or call at 507-210-1591. Even if ends up not being a fit, I’d love to see what is outside the traditional job sites and LinkedIn.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some homework to do. I haven’t graduated quite yet.

“luck… or something” Review

February 20th, 2026

Am I about to write an essay about Hilary Duff and her new album, “luck… or something”? You betcha. But I feel like it’ll be worth your time, especially if you’re an elder millennial and thinking deeply about this era of your life.

Let’s make my musical roots clear: I love all genres of music, with no exceptions. Truly. Even country and rap, as the cliché goes. I have exposed myself to everything, and have an appreciation for it all.

When push comes to shove, though, I’m a rock guy; however, my whole heart belongs to pop, particularly of the bubblegum flavor. My first concert was *NSYNC at Target Center. I can still recite the lyrics to Mandy Moore’s “Candy,” a song I used to wake up to in high school. There is just something about these processed, sugary confections that rot my teeth but fill my soul.

Enter Hilary Duff’s comeback (can I call it that?). She released a new album this morning with a tour to follow (of course I got my ticket). And it is nothing less than revolutionary, and I want to talk about why.

When artists create publicly over several decades, there is often a (subjective!) decline in their work, for any number of reasons; one of the most frequently cited is a definite feeling of repetition, like an artist has been here before.

The rejection of this is what makes Hilary’s album so compelling. She doesn’t write these songs like nothing ever happened, which is common for pop stars in her position, who may hold tight to a desire to project their image as timeless. No, instead she leans into middle age, with all its messiness, melancholy and loneliness. She digs into family, friendship and partnerships with an adult spade, and expresses the unique wants and needs we discover as we get older.

One of those wants really resonates with me and I’ve written about it several times before: novelty. Or: the concept of new.

So many midlife crises come from this particular obsession. New cars, new homes, new friends, new lovers. But the problem isn’t the same old world around us; it’s how we look at it. It is possible to look at a street or a tree or a face you’ve seen ten thousand times with brand new eyes, if only you let yourself.

You don’t need to blow up your life, burn all your bridges, move-ah to Italy. You can apply a beginner’s mind to everything you do, every single day. A beginner’s mind is one that never forgets the first question we ever ask ourselves: who and what am I? The answer will change; it’s evergreen, always new.

And on this album, it’s all Hilary wants: to be seen as perpetually new. Not to be new, not to lose her age and lore and wisdom, but to be appreciated for her middle-aged, messy self every moment she’s alive. To want like it’s new and be wanted like it’s new. She shares these very real feelings on top of fairly derivative, ultra-produced pop but, personally, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Welcome back, Hilary. Thank you for keeping it real for those of us with deepening wrinkles, fading grays and increasing existential dread.

bored/lonely/stupid

February 9th, 2026

As a writer and an artist (and enrolled student) I get asked about my opinion on A.I. every single day. I want to share a slice of how I feel about it with you, but I have to start with a shameful admission: I recently missed a deadline.

If you know me, especially the me of today, the me who doesn’t drown his sorrows with wrung rags of wine, you know that I really try to do what I say. If I say I’m going to be there or answer the phone, it’s a safe bet that I’ll show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed or pick it up. If I announce a project or commit to a contribution, you will likely see it or receive it with few exceptions (I promise there is still another volume of Brushfire coming and I could still make my musical film The Visiter! any day now).

For the past two years, I’ve been part of an amazing collection of short stories with some of my favorite writers. I was working on a story for the upcoming collection and I… just could not finish it by the submission date, at least not in a way that was satisfying to me. It killed me, but I had to admit to my failure and commit to try, trying again in the uncertain future.

Between the overwhelming pace and chaos of my personal life and the extraordinary weight and violence of what’s happening in my state, I just haven’t been able to write outside of my immediate self; I was also missing the only ingredient that matters.

Though my books and essays and stories that I’ve shared with you are all over the place as far as feeling and genre and plot go, there is at least one thing they absolutely all have in common: I find joy in writing them.

Not just joy, of course. I find despair and anguish and beauty and hope in writing, too. But I love to write and it’s how I stay in touch with myself, how I know what I really think and feel, and the more honest I am, the more writing loves me back.

Can you see how I’m going to connect this to A.I.?

I was having a conversation with a coworker last weekend and she wants to start her own business. Immediately, someone in her life, an A.I. obsessive, enthusiastically explained how much A.I. could do for her. It could develop a business plan. It could draw up a logo. It could even name her business for her.

But I want to do those things, she said.

We only get this one life, you guys.

We outsource our writing and wonder why so many of us lack a true foundation of sense and morality; when we don’t tend to our own gardens and sharpen our own blades, we wilt and get dull.

We outsource our communication and we wonder why we can’t hold deep or meaningful conversations, or engage in thoughtful and productive debate, or are able to just tell a good story.

We outsource our friction and we outsource our discomfort and we wonder why we’re bored and lonely and stupid.

They want us bored and lonely and stupid.

There is so much more I could (and do) say about A.I. but this is the most important. We are losing our humanity and it’s nothing like the movies warned; the robots don’t want to take over the world and kill us. The robots don’t want anything at all. They lack context and motivation.

The people who built them, however, just want us to not care at all. About anything. Not each other, not the planet we share, and especially not them.

We The People

January 28th, 2026

When’s the last time you read the Declaration of Independence?

This isn’t a flex or a question of condescension; I don’t actually know if I had ever read it and our Constitution front-to-back in my life until this week. (I found this cute pocket version at my local Barnes & Noble.)

It is an elegantly styled and brilliantly written document, meant to be amended and to grow with the people and the times. But its core principles, the ideals that we have come to know as American ideals, are all there: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Human rights have been a part of the document (if not the country itself) since nearly the beginning. (The Bill of Rights is actually just the first ten Amendments.)

I didn’t know there was a “second half” to the Declaration, but I love it; it’s just a laundry list of complaints the people had against Great Britain, a giant “eff you” to King George III.

And wouldn’t you know it: the list of grievances is almost identical to the landscape we find ourselves in today.

The Declaration of Independence also has a really helpful reminder: when the government becomes destructive to its people, it is our right to alter or abolish it. And here’s another reminder: anyone on United States soil has the same rights that everyone does. Being a criminal doesn’t diminish your human rights, either; what a concept! If anyone loses their rights in America, so do you.

I attended an ICE Watch training class tonight. I learned so much; I want to be a better neighbor and this is a step in the right direction. The class I took was well-attended and, by all accounts, gave us the same information that everyone who participates in an ICE Watch class gets.

They repeatedly stress things that I think it’s important for the public to know. For example: they tell us to not interfere with enforcement, to keep our distance from officers, to remain calm, and to de-escalate at all times. Those are actually among the most important rules to follow.

Is ICE getting the same training?

Anyway, I was so proud listening to these organizers, most of all because their love for their neighbors and of community was so full and real. Authoritarians use fear; they want us disconnected from our neighbors, locked away in our homes and behind our fences, doomscrolling for infinity. We have forgotten irl community.

But once you get face-to-face, lend a hand, see a smile, share a meal: you remember. You know what is to be human again.

Pick up a copy of the Constitution. Know your rights. Get excited about community and the American Dream again. I’m about to (try to) read We The People by Jill Lepore, a 600-page tome about the creation of our founding documents. What can I say? I’m a nerd. A nerd who loves you all and wants you to stay safe out there.

How Could They Understand?

January 25th, 2026

I barely sleep, I’m stressed out all the time and I’m not sure how any of us can be expected to function in any capacity; never mind that the constant need to feel functional is just a side effect of the late stage capitalism.

First of all: hi to all the new people. If I randomly came across your feed this week (sorry about that) and you have no idea who I am, my name is Dennis. I’m a Minnesotan, I’m a writer and artist and musician, I’m sober, and I’m super annoying on social media because I talk about my feelings and stuff like empathy and kindness. It’s all very cringe and millennial-coded. Welcome!

My last post went locally viral and, to be honest, it was kind of a nightmare, until I figured out my comment settings. I dealt with a stack of hate from mostly bots and fake accounts; I knew which were fake because I’d click on one and it would have like 37 friends and their profile picture was Shrek and we all know Shrek doesn’t have 37 friends.

But: I also got messages from people who were grateful and relieved that there are so many speaking up and standing up and trying to do the right thing among the fog of fear and hatred and uncertainty.

I went to public school. I was born in Minneapolis and moved to Faribault in the third grade. In middle school, we had an amazing teacher named Mrs. Bisping and I remember her being obsessed with the Holocaust; not just teaching us history, but really having us empathize with the people who went through such inhumane cruelty.

This is how I learned about fascism, from a passionate teacher; it wasn’t the only way.

I also loved comic books, and Star Wars, and Harry Potter, and it didn’t take long to make the real world connection to my many pop culture obsessions: fascism is the opposite of humanity and freedom and love, and we should do everything we can to fight against it.

I’ve been seeing the phrase “both sides of the coin” a lot lately and I have something to say about that, namely that a coin reflects two equal sides. I think people use “both sides of the coin” because they want to appear to be fair and balanced and they’re afraid of offending someone; thankfully, I have no such problem. There are situations where there are not two equal, reasonable, compassionate sides and you fucking know it.

Do people watch World War II documentaries and, after they’re over, say something like, “Man, don’t get me wrong, I totally do think those Nazis did some bad stuff, but I also kind of get it, you know?” True crime is hot: are there a lot of Ted Bundy sympathizers out there? Not people who find him interesting; people who are sympathetic to who he was and what he did. Or how about 9/11? Would any of you like to “both sides of the coin” the terrorists who hijacked our planes that day?

Anybody?

Everyone is biased; not everyone is equally biased, and to pretend that they are is to flatten important differences.

I’ve seen and heard some truly inhumane takes lately, from people I know, from people I really cared about, and they hurt but maybe not for the reason you think.

When I see someone say something like “Well, if they weren’t stupid, if they weren’t out there in the streets, then they wouldn’t have gotten killed.” That isn’t objectively false; you can’t get in a car accident if you don’t drive a car. But it also sadly suggests that there is nobody in their life that they care enough about to get out of their house to fight for.

They don’t understand how someone could risk their own life for another; how they could sacrifice their own safety to help somebody else they care deeply about, like a spouse or a partner or a friend or a neighbor.

What a miserable and tragic way to spend this one and only existence.

Fascism is alive and thriving in America, and especially in my home state. I see a lot of people typing things like “if you support this, then unfollow me” and, with all due respect, I won’t be saying that. Because I’m already doing it for you. I’m ending my online relationships without saying a word because this is my line; humanity is where I draw it.

I remind people of this all the time but, generally, the artists and writers and musicians throughout history are right. This isn’t my way of dismissing arguments or making myself right by default; it’s to tell you that if you’re not an artist, you’re probably in the weeds. You’re thinking about rules and laws and beliefs you did not choose and all the shit that human beings make up to distract ourselves from the fact that we’re all gonna die.

Meanwhile, we spend all of our time thinking about our humanity; about what makes us human, about our most complex emotions and our simplest and most powerful, about what makes us happy and sad and angry, about what’s in our hearts.

We think more than anybody else about our souls.

Anyway, I’m a mess but Costco got a small shipment of my favorite frozen pizza of all time, and it’s the only thing that is preventing me from having a full physical and mental breakdown. I bought 15 of them. Lord help us when they’re gone.

Be safe out there. Love you all. I hope I see you soon, and I hope ICE is gone sooner.

Closings Time

January 17th, 2026

This is my local Pancake House.

This sign was posted at their Burnsville location today, on a Saturday, one of the busiest days of the restaurant week.

They’re closed.

I have found over the years that it’s impossible to reach some folks through their hearts because there are those who suffer from an affliction not unlike the Tin Man (tl;dr he didn’t have one).

So let’s try a different approach: this is going to decimate the local economy.

Because, for some reason (I’d venture educational or through willful ignorance), there is a significant amount of people who don’t know how America actually works; a country built on the backs of people that some of you choose to hate and fear, who keep this thing running and always have, since day one of this societal experiment.

We are going to lose so many businesses if this continues, and it’s not only going to have a significant economic impact, but a cultural one.

For some people, their whole experience of community and the outside world is through their local watering hole; they are invaluable third places, spaces outside home and work, where we gather and connect and nourish ourselves in more ways than one. They also employ millions of Americans, including me.

This will be worse than the pandemic on several levels; at least at that time, we were all trying to follow the same rules, and there was some (though arguably not enough) relief available for people who needed it. There was also a plan of action, which included updated guidelines and a vaccine timeline.

This, however, is a free-for-all, absolute chaos; the stories coming from our cities are heartbreaking and disgusting and tragic and there appears to be no end in sight. This cruelty seems to be the point. And we are all suffering from it, and will continue to until ICE and the federal goverment leave.

Whereas the pandemic affected the entire world, this is a targeted attack on Minnesota; we are being hurt by this administration on purpose.

I’ve worked in my restaurants my whole life and we tend to be very pro-immigrant, for good reason: we work closely with immigrants, and they’re our acquaintances and friends and for some our families and we know how important they are to our economic and cultural ecosystems. I spend at least a few minutes every day learning Spanish on my phone so I can connect a little bit better, though I feel it’s still not enough, especially now.

I watched someone yesterday try to justify why it might be reasonable, in some situations, to tear gas a six-month-old, and that’s one of the reasons why I won’t stop writing and speaking up.

Once again, I love you all; once again, stay safe out there (the world outside your door) and in there (your head and heart).