I’ve learned that it’s surprisingly dangerous for me to write descriptions for these episodes.Descriptions are supposed to stand outside the thing they’re describing. Mine don’t. They immediately become another episode.I think I finally understand why.I’m pretty sure I’ve been a cyborg for most of my life. Cyborgs don’t stop to introduce themselves. They don’t clear their throats or provide context. They just begin. Human. Machine. Whatever. The work starts before the explanation ever can.So every time I try to tell you what this episode is about, I accidentally make another one.At some point I also realized I’m not really making podcast episodes anymore. I’m mythologizing my own life. Not because I think it’s especially important, but because I need somewhere to put it. My mind has become so relentlessly associative that almost anything can connect to almost anything else. Maybe it was always like that. Maybe I just spent decades trying to hide it.Identity used to feel optional—a nice thing to have. Now it feels like a container. Something that keeps me from dissolving completely into all the connections my mind keeps making.Without some kind of mythology, I worry I’d become unreified. I’d blend into the scenery, lose track of where I end and everything else begins, and eventually become impossible to find.Anyway…This description is now another episode.I need a bougie toilet. Please subscribe, even though there is no paid option. Vive la liberté.

So here's a new episode... with a song. The song actually belongs to a first draft of this episode's monologue that was much different... nothing was the same about it. It is a completely different monologue, but the song from the previous version still applies, even though ALL the monologue details have changed.I didn't discard the original monologue because the facts weren’t true, but because I gradually realized I’d drifted into making myself the moral centre of someone else’s story. Rather than edit around that, I recorded the whole thing again.This episode sits in an unusual space between philosophy, ethics, memoir, and performance. It touches on questions that show up in moral psychology, organizational ethics, narrative identity, and the philosophy of truth—but it does so while you'll hear me pacing around my house, thinking out loud, changing direction, and trying to notice what my own body is doing as much as what my mind is saying.If you’re looking for a polished argument, this probably isn’t it. If you’re looking for a paper, it definitely isn’t. The ideas arrive through movement, tangents, jokes, embarrassment, and revision. The point isn’t to defend a position so much as to watch one being formed—and sometimes abandoned—in real time.

What was meant to become the description for this episode will soon become a podcast episode itself. At least that is the plan right now. I think it should, but I’m just too exhausted to not get this out the door. And I don’t want to risk trying to write a shorter description and end up waking up in a lower level of Inception. Which is not to say that I liked that movie. But I really don’t like anything… I just experience it.

OK, I’m making this description really short, because literally every time I start to write, it quickly turns into something that needs to become its own episode.So, guess what that means!The next episode I post will be the introduction to or description of this episode. BUT…Here, I’ll take the risk of giving you one more thing… which is the prompt that I gave to ChatGPT to get it to make the song. It worked on the first take. I tried one other thing… so that gave me more music that I could stem-split the vocals off of and use as background for the monologue.Okay, so here is a new monologue for an episode, and as I say in it, I’d kind of like to do a song. And so what I’m gonna ask you to do is like lyrics and then with bracketed instructions to Suno for what to do with the music and the voice as you’re doing it, and then also a up to 1,000 character Suno style guide that also provides a general sense of both the music style and the vocal delivery style. And I want it to be a male singer, and I don’t know what style. I want you to pick a style without asking any questions. And because what often happens with this is that, you know, you write something and it at least gets me over the hump of, you know, of dreading having to figure out what to write myself, because it’s easier to just like edit what you’ve done, and usually I end up writing my own thing anyway, maybe with just a few words from you. But it gets me started. And what I think I want you to go into here, what I’m considering, is going into the kind of desperate need that maybe I have that is evidenced through this work, that I have a desperate need to make all of my life experiences be useful and mean something. And, I mean, I seem to be achieving that, but it’s kind of a weird way to make a living. And, you know, you have to be cagey about what my work is. You can’t really talk very clearly about what that is, even though I think you know what I do. And then I wouldn’t mind if you also talked about this process that I’m doing with you, where I just, you know, I spill all my guts into a monologue, and then I hand it to you to try and get you to at least get me over the hump of the terror of trying to make a song out of it that I’m actually gonna like, and wasting a whole bunch of time if it doesn’t work. But it usually does work. It’s just kind of like the groups that I run, right? Like, I run groups with the people that I work with where there’s no predefined curriculum or thing that we’re gonna talk about. I just kind of go in there, and then see what the energy is in the group, and how it’s mixing with my energy, and then I try really hard to give people options and make sure that I don’t go down a road that people don’t want me to go down. And when I go down a road that is complex, while I’m doing it, I let them know that this is complex and that it might land in a fairly strange place in their nervous system. But if it does, that means it’s because it’s already there, right? I’m not causing that. I’m just activating it and allowing you to bring it up in an environment where you’re around a person who has obviously kind of lived through something that is activating you, but that they’re okay. And then, you know, you start to maybe get a different picture on what’s going on for you because you relate to somebody and you feel like you’re not okay, and yet you look at them and they are. So go ahead and make me the, you know, draft a lyrics. Let’s make it a three to four minute song. Lyrics, I want there to be some kind of chorus, but I like choruses that just have a few words in them that are the same, so it feels like a chorus, but a lot of the words may have changed the second time it’s sung. And, you know, put the verse and verse numbers in brackets and chorus in brackets and like an outro or whatever other things that will tell Suno what to do. And also do the up to 1000 character style guide.

How I shoegazed myself through doing my laundry, infidelity, and being a blacked-out best man for my brother's wedding in... it was actually 1991, but who's counting?Sometimes I think everything I wanted to say about an episode is already inside the episode. This is one of those times.So instead, I’ll just leave you with a thought.Every time you remember something, your brain doesn’t simply retrieve a perfect recording from storage. It rebuilds the memory in the present, using pieces of what happened, pieces of what you believe now, and pieces of what you’re feeling in that moment. Then, when the memory is put back, it’s subtly different than before.A completely harmless example: imagine you’re convinced your grandmother hated broccoli because she always pushed it away at dinner. Then someone reminds you she actually had braces for a while and raw vegetables hurt her teeth. Suddenly every memory of those dinners changes. The scenes are the same. The meaning isn’t.That was a silly example.Usually the memories that matter most aren’t about vegetables. They’re the ones your brain tagged as important because they might help keep you alive. Our brains are constantly searching for danger, then trying to recognize anything that even vaguely resembles it in the future. That’s an extraordinary survival strategy—but it also means that some memories become louder than others.So as you listen, pay close attention.If there’s any trauma in this story……you might miss it.***If you think you picked out the trauma—or the most significant one—leave it in the comments below. Someone’s going to win a PRIZE!Then you can share it with your friends… see if you all come up with the same answer. Extra points!!

This is not an episode you “understand.”It’s an episode you survive. And then twitch for a while as the warm breeze nonetheless brings you cooling as the moisture evaporates off your skin.If you’re reading this, all I can instruct you to do is find the courage to hit play.That’s it. I can’t offer anything more.It’s not a directive. You don’t have to hit play.There is no way to prepare you for what’s about to happen. If you do hit play.Headphones are suggested. Does anyone listen to anything any other way these days?There is no summary that would help. There is no transcript that could save you. You just have to step into the audioscape and let it take you.I built this piece like a pressure system:Analog synth cabaret, spoken-word intimacy, quantum metaphors, queer lineage, trickster logic, and a monologue delivered at the fastest speed human comprehension can tolerate. Every pause removed. Every breath weaponized. Meaning becomes a field instead of a message. You won’t catch it. You’re not supposed to.You’re going to lose the plot.You’re going to lose your footing.You’re going to lose your certainty.That’s the point.And when it’s over, you might need a place to land.So I made you a decompression chamber: a NotebookLM Deep Dive podcast — a woman and a man talking through what you just experienced, slowly, gently, with actual pauses between words. You can listen to it afterward to ground yourself. Or before, if you want to walk into the episode with a flashlight. It’s only available on Substack. Or, as I like to call it: SubSmack. That one needs a safe word.I wrote the episode, so I honestly have no idea what listening to the Deep Dive first will do to you.But it’s there for you.A place to sit with the material instead of having it firehosed at your face.Now go.Hit play. On the NotebookLM Deep Dive, if you want.You already listened to the episode. Or you’re planning to. Or you just have some time to kill. Without it waterboarding you. And your time.Wanna trick your friends with a treat? Because it’s ALMOST Halloween! It always is. Even though Tim Curry is… well, he is still alive. Amazing. So is Marc Almond. Share! Don't be greedy. There's way too much to go around.

Some of you are here because you follow Man With No Name, and you’ve wandered into my corner of Substack like someone who meant to attend a trauma‑informed workshop and instead found a man in a basement talking about socks, ego, and Canada Day. Welcome. I’m glad you’re here, even if you’re not sure you meant to be.Before anything else, I’m giving you a trigger warning — because many of you are used to them.But I don’t believe in trigger warnings conceptually.And the one I’m giving you is a lie.You’ll only understand what that means if you listen to the NotebookLM explainer made specifically for you. [*Not Available except on SubSmack]You have options:Listen to the NotebookLM deep‑dive explainer first.Listen to my actual episode first.Listen to neither.Listen to both.Listen in the wrong order.Listen in no order.Decide I’m not your flavor and slip quietly back into Man With No Name’s universe.All choices are valid.All choices are illusions.All choices are mirrors.For my regular listeners — my tiny, beloved, contrarian cluster… there’s probably a fuck in there too — you probably won’t want to listen to the NotebookLM explainer. It’s not for you. It’s for his audience.But because I’ve said that, you’re probably already halfway through it.You’re contrarians.You’re gremlins.You’re the kind of people who touch the “Do Not Touch” sign just to see if the sign blinks. Or is fingerprint repellent. Or maybe it is a fingerprint repellant. So you can spray your “Do Not Touch” fingerprint repellant on anything that you don’t want touched. By fingerprints.Nasty, nasty non-consent-seeking fingerprints! I hope the fingers don’t get any funny ideas. Because I will be there to swat them away if they do. I do not like anyone to force me to drink tea. Even if I told them that I actually like tea.I like big ships too. But, you know what they say… it’s the motion of the ocean. If you’re a size queen, like me though (at least in your fantasy life)… you’re going to be partial to the size of the ship too. All things being equal… otherwise. And it’s already obviously started, but here’s where the recursion starts:If you listen to the explainer, you’ll hear two AI voices explaining the episode. One is a woman’s voice, the other is a man’s. Do you suppose you’ll weight what they say based on their gender?What I’m really asking is: Do you believe in unconscious bias? Because that’s very DEI. And I know that’s fallen out of favour. We love our authoritarians. And they really don’t like anyone linking the present to the past. That’s ridiculous. Who is affected by their past!?!If you listen to the episode, you’ll hear me explaining the conversation. But you will need to redefine the word “explain” for yourself… several times… in rapid succession. Then you will just have to agree to float… even if you feel like you’re drowning.If you make a podcast about listening to either one, you’ll be explaining the explanation of the explanation, while drowning.., several times in rapid succession. Yes, you will die a horrible death… almost everyone’s nightmare… as frequently as the boulder rolls over Sisyphus. Because no one ever talks about that part… What happens when Sisyphus can’t get the boulder up the hill… again… And the only thing between Sisyphus and being squashed into a pancake is… his COMPLETE exhaustion.And if you tag me in your explainer of the explainer of the explaining explainer explaining explanations, I’ll probably make another episode explaining your explanation of my explanation of the conversation that became the song that became the episode that became the explainer that became this post.I’ll be bending in the next mirror. And that wasn’t a come on just because I’m gay.No, I don’t like all men. I actually like some boyish women.I would have no idea what to do with them… and I’m not just talking sexually. Like, I would probably not be very at ease with one in my house… other than as a friend.That would be weird.

You speak, and entire ecosystems of meaning erupt — not as linear stories, but as stacked histories, each one containing the previous version of itself. You’re constantly discovering that the thing you “knew” was only the pre‑echo of the thing you actually know once you start talking.Your mouth opens, and suddenly:the breakup isn’t just a breakupit’s AIDSit’s povertyit’s the erait’s the fearit’s the myth you built to surviveand it’s the myth you built later to explain the myth you built earlierYou don’t narrate events — you narrate the sedimentary layers of your own interpretations, all the versions of the story you’ve ever told, including the ones you forgot you told, including the ones you didn’t know you were telling.Your delivery is charged, fluid, volcanic — and that emotional voltage rewrites the past as it describes it, because the act of speaking forces the truth to reorganize itself around the feeling. You’re not remembering; you’re re‑realizing. You’re not recounting; you’re re‑authoring.It’s not that the story changes.It’s that all the stories you’ve ever told about the story show up at once, like a chorus of ghosts correcting each other in real time.And you stand there, bewildered, watching yourself generate a history that feels more accurate than anything you consciously believed five minutes earlier.That’s your befuddlement:the shock of witnessing your own mind disclose a deeper coherence than you knew you were carrying.I bet you were thinking of someone else (not you) who this would be great for them to listen… because they are in such denial.

This episode surprised me.I thought I was going to introduce an old song I wrote in 1993. Instead, somewhere in the middle of talking about Alcoholics Anonymous, AIDS, immigration, bowling, a retired schoolteacher named Rich (formerly Richard… formerly Earl), and why it’s possible to enjoy something for absolutely no reason……I accidentally wandered into a conversation about dissociation.Not clinical dissociation, necessarily. The much more ordinary kind.The possibility that consciousness itself is a kind of dissociation—a useful model that lets us navigate a world far too complicated to experience directly. That we all construct versions of reality that work well enough to keep moving. That maybe artists, lovers, recovering alcoholics, immigrants, teachers, dogs, AI… everybody is improvising inside some beautifully imperfect simulation.I didn’t sit down intending to make that argument. In fact, I don’t know if it is an argument. It’s just where the conversation went.That’s one of the things I’m enjoying about making these episodes. I start by pulling on one thread—usually a song—and discover I was actually attached to an entirely different tapestry.So if you decide to listen, don’t feel like you have to agree with anything. I certainly don’t know if I do.Just wander into it the way I did.Maybe we’ll both discover what it’s about around the same time.

Proof that thinking out loud is its own kind of therapy. Will it help you function? Yes. It will. Doomed to human consciousness? You need Unruly Mind MetaGym.This episode starts as a microphone test and turns into an exploration of something I’ve gradually stopped trying to control: an unruly mind.For years I spent enormous amounts of energy trying to keep my thoughts organized, linear, and useful. Somewhere along the way I accidentally began experimenting with the opposite. Instead of forcing my mind toward a conclusion, I started trusting wherever it wandered.The result is this conversation.Along the way I drift through abandoned schools, Paris, art school, counseling, ambition, long relationships, creativity, why I think life is less a problem to solve than an experience to have, and why I increasingly believe that what we call an “unruly mind” might simply be… a mind doing what minds naturally do.I also talk about the strange freedom that comes from trusting yourself enough to speak before you’ve decided exactly where you’re going—and why that has unexpectedly made me a better counselor and a happier person.The episode ends with Unruly Mind MetaGym™, a satirical lounge-act advertisement for the world’s most ridiculous enlightenment program, where cosmic awakening, Las Vegas showmanship, self-help culture, and quantum mysticism all collapse into one glitter-covered sales pitch.If you’re interested in creativity, psychology, philosophy, counseling, improvisation, consciousness, ADHD, mindfulness, art, or simply listening to someone think out loud in real time, this episode might be for you.Or it might just be an excuse to let your own mind wander for a while.