Disclaimer: I reference imaginary violence and very real health anxiety triggers in this piece.
Well this is fucking embarrassing to admit, but here we go: there was a period of time in my mid-to-late-20s or so where I would fantasize[1] about getting into fights. Physical fights. Not, like, random arguments, no, there were plenty of those. I was no stranger to verbal sparring. My first marriage was super healthy!
I'm talkin' fights. Fisticuffs. Punchy, kicky, oh god is that a knife?? Blood blood. The sort of spontaneous brawl that we may witness in a film when we need to be shown that our hero is actually a secret badass on a quest for justice. And as someone admittedly obsessed with justice, this was one of the ways that obsession manifested.[2]
The scenario was, invariably, as follows: I'd be walking on the sidewalk or down an alley—I lived in Chicago, a city absolutely littered with alleys, because where else would you put your trash[3]—minding my own business, and some fuckin' fool(s) would start shit and I would, miraculously, persevere, fending off my adversaries with a series of dodges and dips and ducks and dives and dodges, followed by a jab to the kidney, a trip, a flip, and a quick tip of the toe to the temple. I dunno what the hell a haymaker is, but I had one of those, too, wound up and ready to go for the jamoke who had the gall to get back up for more. If need be, I could also grab him by the shirt collar and ram his head into a dumpster and then, finally, stomp his ass until his fingers stopped twitching.
You know... Justice!
And, naturally, in this fantasy, I would emerge unscathed—physically and emotionally—because I suppose a secret Batman lived deep within me, ready to step in and commandeer my body to complete his dark objective when it was needed the most: in the unlikely event I became embroiled in a physical altercation.
Because, like, let's be real for second? I've never been punched. Never thrown one. And if I was ever involved in a situation where either of those things happened, I would probably fucking die. I'm not being self-deprecating for comedic effect. I think anyone who has ever met me would put money on literally anyone else winning a fist fight in which I was involved.
It's honestly something that I still find particularly baffling about me, considering how so much of my consciousness is dedicated to coping with anxiety as it constantly yells at me about all of the horrible ways I'm going to die. My tummy hurts. Cancer. My back hurts. Cancer. My poop weird. Cancer. Flying in a plane? Crash.
My mom recently joked that I'll probably live until I'm 90, worrying that I am going to die every day. Which, like, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Very funny and also fuck you.
But getting jumped in a dark alley? Somehow, in that scenario, my brain thought I'd come out on top. Out of shape. No training. Just pure instinct and a will to survive (and I guess all of the cool fighting moves I learned playing video games??) would be enough to carry me to victory.
I would like to reiterate that these were the thoughts of a younger, dumber person. I don't experience them anymore; my fighting days are far behind me. But I was rendered momentarily incapacitated earlier today when I had a brief flashback to my younger self, reminiscing about how I used to think about these things, and, like, what the fuck was that all about, ya weirdo???
And while I have to imagine that some of it was partly mid-20s feelings of invulnerability getting super cozy with a propensity for catastrophizing, I think the more likely culprit was that I just didn't have a healthy emotional outlet during much of my teenage years into young adulthood. Growing up, it often felt like I was the only person in my family who was actively shamed for experiencing heightened emotions. And that was a trend that carried on into my late teens through my early-30s, when I was in a relationship with someone who didn't have much patience for me when I wasn't actively reigning myself in. My excitement could get annoying. My joking too embarrassing. My anger, something to tuck away. It led to me feeling, a lot of the time, that I had to suppress my emotions for the sake of those around me. That the last thing I should ever be for anyone was too much.
If you're thinking, "Oh, no, Keenan, that sounds like a recipe for a self-perpetuating cycle of outbursts of rage followed by immense shame that then slowly bubbles up into yet more rage!" Uh, yeah, you're right![4] It was a bad time! It's extremely difficult to know what to do with yourself in those moments. When you're grasping for any semblance of control. When you're desperate to feel like your anger is justified. When all you need, more than anything, is an outlet.
Actually, I wonder if that's what drives people to take up things like boxing? Just thinking out loud here. I dunno! I'm sure it's way more complex and unique to each individual. I don't want to oversimplify something I know next to nothing about. Regardless, I never really considered real combat as an option. I was always too scared of getting hurt. That's why I fought people in my brain, where I was impervious, and adept, and, you know, super attractive. In what situation could I be any more justified to experience big feelings than when some (imaginary) dickhead(s) decided to roll up and try to (imaginary) kill me (in my head)? These were scenarios tailor-made for me to feel self-righteous, justified, in my anger.
Looking back, I recognize that these fantasies largely subsided as I was able to take the time to work on me, to come to terms with how I experience anger and rage, which, in turn, made it easier to experience unpleasant emotions, to sit with them, rather than force them to simmer under closed lid until everything eventually exploded and there was no hope of reigning them in.
A lot of my insecurity and doubt and anger and frustration with myself dissipated when I didn't have to pretend like those feelings didn't exist. And when I'm not shaming myself into submission because of them, they don't have the same power over me. I can recognize them. I can experience them. And I can let them pass, like any other feeling. They're not gone, by any means, but they don't take hold of me, like secret Batman, and control me the way they used to. As a result, I've had to fight my thoughts a hell of a lot less, which is really all I could ever ask for.
I dunno, y'all. Therapy is great, don't get me wrong. But it's also worthwhile checking in and seeing if you spend a significant amount of time trying to appease those around you. How much of yourself are you sacrificing for their sake? Is it worth beating yourself into a pulp so you fit into their world?
Fantasize? Is that the right word? I dunno. It's not like I was lusting after it. I wasn't, y'know, secretly horny for this little brain deviation to come to fruition. I know that a fantasy isn't inherently a sex thing, duh, I've imagined winning the lottery, but, like, this one feels horny-adjacent? But it wasn't, is the thing. This wasn't a Henry Caville throwing me around a bathroom situation, which, for the record, I would love. ↩︎
The other way was winning every single argument I ever had in my head. ↩︎
ANY THOUGHTS, NEW YORK CITY??? ↩︎
Are you a licensed therapist? What insurance do you take?? ↩︎
Table of Contents:
I was tagged against my will[1] by Robb this morning on Mastodon. Looped into a conversation stemming from a simple inquiry from Sia:
Does anyone provide audio versions of their blog posts? Was thinking of doing this. Maybe just recording myself reading it and describing any graphics.
I have no ideas on best practices here for recording or delivering and optimizing audio if anyone wants to share
And Robb was all:
Which is very nice and very British. And he's right, I do, in fact, have an audioblog. I'm, like, the target for this question. So why do I feel so fucking weird about offering any sort of guidance?
This, naturally, got me thinkin' about how I do the things I do, the knowledge I've amassed over the years, and how I often feel weirdly inadequate or ill-prepared to discuss my process. But, like, if I'm being honest with myself, I've recorded and edited many, many hours of podcasts over the years. I produce audio that sounds pretty good to my ears. And—Christ!—I am a professional voice actor. I have recorded audio for real companies and they have paid me actual money dollars to do so! All from my home studio. Surely, surely I can offer at least some practical guidance for people who want to get started. I mean, we're all having fun here, right?
To answer a rhetorical question: Indeed.
I think my biggest issue[2] is I have this obsession with being as thorough as possible. I don't know if any of you who have read my writing before have deduced this yet, but my propensity for digging in could be accurately classified as an affliction, and it often prevents me from completing anything because I am so concerned I may not cover every single little facet that it leads someone astray, or, worse, I get yelled at by some mean turd who knows more than me.
So, in an effort to grow as a person, I am going to try my goddamnedest to push through and offer insight on how I, personally, handle operating an audioblog. With tips for beginners to just get started,[3] as well as more advanced things you can indulge in should you choose to do so. It is not a comprehensive, immutable tome. It is not a tutorial, per sé. But it should give you enough to think about so you can lower any barriers you may be placing in front of yourself.
Let's give this a go, shall we?
Okay, quick and dirty. Here's my workflow for making an audioblog episode:
<audio> tag. (I optionally styled my <audio> in CSS to make it look better and have a better user experience.)That's basically it. Write. Record. Export. Upload. Embed. Easy!
Sure. First off: practice reading your words aloud before recording.
I find this to be unbelievably helpful. I read my words aloud all the time. I read while I write. I read them once I'm done writing. I want to get comfortable with how they flow, how they sound, how they feel in my mouth.[4] Where do they trip me up? Do I have a typo? Have I said the same thing over and over and over again and now it's just feeling very redundant and repetitive and similar?
Reading your words aloud helps you practice and can also generally makes the editing process better. The ol' one two word punch, as my dad never said.
Also, read more slowly than you think you should.
A common pitfall for people when reading aloud is they try to read too quickly. Whether it's nerves, or they hate the sound of their voice, or they're feeling so comfortable with the words they've written that they just kinda fly through without thinking about it.
I'm here to tell you that you are probably reading too quickly. And that will either make life harder for you as you try to record, harder for your audience as they listen, or both!
Speed, like tone, intonation, volume, etc. are all tools you can use to add dynamism and personality to your reading, but going too fast for too long will wear you out and lose your listeners.
Hi. We are friends. And you know what friends share? Secrets.
So let me share a secret with you, friend (pretend I'm whipsering): You probably already possess everything you need to record audio that sounds pretty good.
It's true. By all accounts, most modern laptops or phones come equipped with good enough microphones that make the initial investment into recording equipment practically zero dollars. Whenever someone asks me what microphone they should buy, I ask them back, "Do you need to buy one?" An unnecessary, almost antagonistic way to respond, sure, but I think, for all intents and purposes, valid.
More often than not, the quality of your recording is not a question of equipment. It is a question of space. Where you record is typically more important than what you use to record.
Are you sitting at your kitchen table, bare-walled, floors be-tiled with a material almost specifically engineered to reflect sound waves? Are you huddled in your bathtub, showering your microphone in unnecessary reverberances? Don't do that!
Instead, consider putting your recording device in a space where the sounds emanating from your face won't bounce around as though they were taking direction from a hit Sugarcult song.[5] Simply: find a space with materials that will naturally absorb errant sound. Clothes. Curtains. Fabric. Towels. Carpet. Rugs. Mattresses.
You will be shocked at how much your audio quality improves when you record in a space that isn't battering your microphone with sound reflections.
Here are some examples of places I have recorded in a pinch that sounded better solely because of the existence of sound dampening materials, rather than fancy equipment:
No expensive room treatment. No soundproof recording booth. No studio.
And most importantly: no expensive microphones! Frankly, if you buy a fancy microphone and record in a shitty space, the audio will still probably sound shitty. Not only will you be disappointed by the quality, you'll also be disappointed by spending a lot of money for the privilege of it sounding like hot garbo.
So before dropping $500 on a microphone, spend that money instead on, like, six dozen eggs and tape the cartons to your walls.[6]
Yes, you can absolutely go overboard with sound treatment. If you wrap your microphone up in a sweater, or fill your room with mattresses, or squeeze yourself into a closet that's way too small, it'll likely start to sound a little boxy, dull, lifeless. There is a limit here. Play around with the space. Do some test recording in different parts of a room or closet. What sounds clean and rich and vibrant? If it works and it sounds good, it's good!
If you're really in a place where you want to level up your sound with some new recording gear, there are a plethora of options for all voice types, hardware setups, and, most importantly, budgets. It really depends on a number of factors. A microphone is a personal choice.
I'm being deliberately evasive here, because it's been a long time since I've experimented. My old go-to recommendations would've been the Blue Yeti or AT2020 for USB microphones. But Blue was purchased by Logitech awhile back and the AT2020 is discontinued. I know people scoffed at Blue's sound quality back in the day. I always liked it, and I thought it was a perfectly serviceable microphone. I never tried the AT2035, which is the successor to the AT2020. I imagine it's similar in quality, but at $150, I'd probably look elsewhere first.
Personally, I've had such a great experience with my RØDE setup, I would likely look to them first. I hear their NT-USB Mini is great and simple. $99 is a solid price.
Look, if we're talking about editing an audioblog here (which we were, if I recall correctly), I think simple and free is the way to go. I got my start editing podcasts and voiceover projects in GarageBand on a Mac. It's not as straightforward as it used to be, but it's still possible to do everything you need to.
I've used Audacity a little bit on PC. It's not my favorite, because I think it's kinda ugly, but I know a ton of people who rely on it. Again. Free. Good.
Spending money on software for projects like this probably isn't going to drastically make your life that much better. The only reason I use Logic Pro X now is because I used to work for Apple and I got a free copy as a result. Does it do a lot more than GarageBand? Fuck yeah. Do I use 99% of its capabilities, therefor making it worth the expense? Lol, no.
At the end of the day, use the tool that is the most accessible to you so you can build familiarity with it. If you can split and trim your audio file, you've got most of what you need. If you build some muscle memory around it, especially around its keyboard shortcuts, you'll start moving pretty quickly through your audio files, depending on how much editing you want/need to do.
I mentioned way back about messing with things like a compressor or equalizer (EQ). These are plug-ins you can apply to your audio tracks to make your voice sound richer (equalizer) and normalize the audio to mitigate fluctuations in volume (compressor).
These (plus things like noise gates, deEssers, limiters, etc.) can be helpful ways to round out the quality of your audio, but they're also things that need to be adjusted based on a number of unique factors, such as your microphone, your recording space, background noise, the overall tone and quality of your voice, etc. They become very personal, is what I'm getting at.
To that end, I'm just going to punt on this, because there are so many guides out there that have already been written. I got my start relying on this old guide from Jason Snell. Even though it's written for an old version of GarageBand, the principles largely remain the same, and I think you can take small suggestions here and apply them to your own software setup to help clean up your audio. Start experimenting and find a sound profile that works best for you and your voice.
To be clear, if you are considering recording audio versions of your blog posts, I think the best thing you can do is start. Just start. Do it because it sounds fun, or because you want to make it more enjoyable for people to read your blog in the way that best suits them. You likely already have access to everything you need to record, edit, and publish your work in audio.
Yes, you can tinker and fiddle and spend money and try to get it right before ever jumping in. Fine. You do you. I'm not your mom.[7] But, personally, I think trying to check all of the boxes I laid out here (and then whatever other boxes conjured up out of the bowels of the Internet) is just setting yourself up for disappointment. Start building a skillset and layer on new things as you need them.
I'm mostly saying all that to me, because of my broken brain and how it sets up impossible hurdles to overcome. I often need to remind myself that I am a product of everything I've done and learned along the way, that I didn't just sprout out of the ground, ready to go, all of my skills set and a clear path before me. I'm in progress. I'm figuring it out. I take every experience with me to the next.
And that honestly sounds pretty good to me.
I'm not being passive-aggressive to Robb or any person who tags me in a social media post. That's how these things work. I am just recognizing my complicated feelings about how these things work. You're minding your own business, and then suddenly your phone yells at you and you react to that in whatever way seems fit for the situation, heavily dependent on your ability to self-regulate. And then you perhaps spend an inordinate amount of time scrolling on your phone or devising some huge, elaborate response that you then realize really isn't appropriate for social media? Not in the sense that you shouldn't say certain things publicly—WHICH YOU SHOULDN'T. PLEASE STOP SAYING SO MANY THINGS PUBLICLY. NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE FARTED OUT INTO THE WORLD. But, rather, in the sense that maybe a platform dependent on brevity isn't the best format to expound in great detail. Does the world really need another post 13/300 miles long social media thread that ends up being the UX equivalent of slip-n-sliding down a very long sheet of sandpaper? So, no, I do not begrudge the player of the game, I begrudge a system that inflicts a rigid structure and widely-agreed-upon communicative norms that then lead me to a series of ruminative thoughts about the best way with which to respond, rather than simply responding. Do I blow up people's timelines with a multi-toot epic? Do I do the sensible thing and take it to a private channel more suited for long-form communication, such as ELECTRONIC MAIL??? Or do I decide to write a very long blog post where I can indulge in whatever weird tangent I want in the fucking footnotes? I DON'T KNOW, DEAR READER. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I SHOULD DO HERE??? Sorry. My coffee has fully kicked in. Look, it needs to be said that Robb was just being fucking nice and considerate and trying to help. I AM NOT MAD AT ROBB. NO ONE SAY I AM MAD AT ROBB. ↩︎
lol, I mean, like, in this particular moment. Not, like... ever. I'm sure we can all agree! ↩︎
Don't be like me! Please just do the thing! Learning is fun! I am a bad example, but please listen to me! I know I am right! ↩︎
Boy, I sure did hate writing that! Gross! ↩︎
No. I won't workshop that joke. ↩︎
True story: my most recent commercial demo was recorded in small loft closet where the walls and ceiling were lined with egg cartons. The guy who recorded and engineered the demo makes his living out of that space. He's a professional voice over artist and sound engineer using spare egg cartons for sound treatment. Shit works! ↩︎
Or maybe I am. In that case, I'm proud of you, honey. ↩︎
After months of deliberately denying myself a daily coffee due to tummy reasons, I have recently ventured back into the realm of making my morning bean juice. Prior to the aforementioned tummy reasons, I would make a batch of cold brew that lasted me a few days. Now, I find myself—shockingly![1]—sticking to the classic pourover method, and after tireless experimentation, I've developed a routine that is not only soothing in the way that rituals can be, but also consistently produces some of the best cups of coffee I've ever had the pleasure of drinking.
I thought it would be unfair to withhold this knowledge any longer, so here is how I make the perfect cup of pourover coffee.
Note: I provide links to products on this page. These are not affiliate links, but I do charge a finder's fee. The cost is $1 USD per click. Please be mindful of which link(s) you click and how many times you click them. Maybe have a little notepad next to your computer while you browse so you can keep accurate records of your link click history. Payment is due within 14 days of first click, and the methods I accept are cashier's checks and/or tinned fish. Failure to remit payment in a timely manner will result in me literally calling the Internet police. There is nowhere to hide. They will find you. They lust for nothing other than blood and justice. Do not test them.
For this method, I rely on the following:
I (mostly) love these tools (the coffee grinder and vacuum canister are fine), but I recognize that when it comes down to it, the most important elements for making the perfect cup of coffee come down to...
A truly terrific cup of coffee is contingent on two things:
We buy our beans from Sightglass. They offer a seasonal subscription, so we're almost always delighted by a blend from a new location. Each bag ships directly to us on a timeline we specify and comes labeled with the country of origin, as well as the tasting notes to expect. There are few things more exciting to me and my wife than receiving a new bag of coffee so we can open it up and get that first smell. We lead a simple, boring life and this small moment of joy is something we look forward to every few weeks. It makes the walk to the mailbox worth it.
The water is, admittedly, a bit harder to replicate, but is an absolutely crucial element. Ours is sourced from a spring tucked away in a small clearing in the trees at the back of our 80 acre farm. One day, I was walking the dog and she managed to slip out of her collar, darting away in hot pursuit of a squirrel. To my dismay, she refused to listen to my cries, and quickly disappeared into the forest. I chased after her, toiling with panic and dread, only to find her in the clearing, front paw up, hackles raised, staring at a cat.
The cat, long and lithe, shiny black fur glistening in the sun, sat before us, unbothered by my dog. Instead, she turned her gaze to me and I was immediately filled with a deep warmth, as though the rays of the sun emanated from within, rather than peppering my pale flesh from an unfathomable cosmic gap. The dread I had felt just a moment before was rendered a distant memory.
"Oh!" I said.
To which the cat replied, "So you see."
"You can talk?"
She nodded.
"What's your name?" I asked her.
"I am," she said, and then gestured with a gentle glance to the clear water bubbling from a spring within a circle of meticulously-placed smooth rocks. "So you see."
I had never seen water so clear, so pure. It gently rose from the Earth and cascaded down back on itself. Its quiet burble beckoned.
I knelt down, brought my mouth to the water, and drank.
The cat placed her little toe beans on the top of my head. "For you are now a Chosen," she said. "A Forever Person. A mere glimmer in the Cosmos, and yet an entire Universe all the same. We are one. We are."
I swallowed the water. Felt it course through my body. The cold comforted my throat and my stomach and my veins and my heart, the wisdom of millennia infused in sweet nectar. At once, I became peace.
"We return when we thirst for knowledge," she said. She turned to glide away, as fluid as the spring itself, before pausing. She looked back.
"Bring fish," she said.
I nodded, and when I returned the next day I brought fish as she asked. We drank from the spring. We talked for hours. We laughed. We basked in the warmth we gave back to the Sun. We explored the past, the future, the path of enlightenment tangled up in a web of entropy spanning many, many years. We were one.
Centuries later, I still return to the spring to see my friend. I bring her fish. Me and I am. We are. A beautiful secret for us to share, the magic of the spring. The water that gives us life and lets us live.
And it brews terrific coffee.
I use this recipe. I like that it automatically adjusts the measurements based on how many grams of coffee I'm using. It's nifty.
That's it! Everything you need to make a purrfect cup of a coffee. A ritual of love I have labored over for as long as time. I hope it helps.
May your bean juice bring you joy.
I say shockingly because I just simply do not enjoy a warm beverage. I have always, always gravitated toward cold drinks, and if it weren't for the sheer convenience of making two cups of coffee each morning (one for me, one for my wife), I probably would not disregard my thirst for a brisk brew with such aplomb. ↩︎