Author: Cooper Brumfield

hey everyone, when thinking about what i wanted to talk about this week, i found that no matter what i thought about, it all came back to me, and to me changing.  the biggest change i’ve been thinking about is college, changing where i spend my every day, who i see every day, and what i do in between the sun’s rising and setting. 

it’s not for certain yet, but it looks like im going to be going to the university of iowa. a place known as the university for writers but lately ive known if more for the fact that it is 12 hours away. 12 hours that seem to stretch and contort itself much farther than a plane ride or a days’ worth of bus and trains. stretching much farther from anything and everything that i have come to love. 

and i’m aware im kind of sounding whiney, i get to go to a school i think i’ll enjoy and hopefully ill make friends and a post like this will one day be nothing but an afterthought, but no matter how much i think i might enjoy it, sometimes i wish i could just skip it, go straght to the part of my life that i want to be in, back where im with the people i want to be in a place where i can be me, but what i’ve learned from that wanting is that it isn’t what i need.

if i want anyone to come out of this blog reading learning at least one thing, i would want it to be that if the time you spend unhappy, anxious, or making mistakes was skipped over, you’d erase yourself. and i think this might be one of the few times in which i think i have my past to thank for something. because i know at one time, whether it was me struggling through middle school or freshman year, i wished that i could just skip over all of highschool, now i sit writing this blog at the end of my final year with only one or two more blog posts happy that I didn’t skip a thing. 

the last time that i took the time to write out something that i felt when it came to this subject was actually the last poetry assignemnt, maybe it is cheap to add in a poem that i already turned in but i think it has a lot to do with everything going on at the moment-

(p.s.)

the morning i came to visit,

i took my shoes off at the door.

down next to plants that had long 

since grown out of their pots,

and weeds that had made 

themselves at home in the

cracks of the front porch

i dusted off the handle of

the old screen door

and let the sound of it

swinging open cascade and

echo throughout my eardrums

the morning i came to visit,

i walked into an empty room

that smelled of lavender perfume,

smothered by mildew 

and cigarette butts

the ghost of chandeliers hung in

the form of wires protruding

from the ceiling. the

contents of each room  

now either rest under white

sheets or are sprawled out

across the front lawn.

the morning i came to visit

i filled my bag with empty 

lipstick containers 

and picture frames,

and layed down on your

old mattress, battered and beat

i tried to hear your voice in the 

chirping of the birds outside

the window of what 

used to be your bedroom.

and i tried to smell your smell in the air,

i didn’t smell a thing, even if i 

told myself i did

the morning i came to visit

i knew you had gone out for a while

After writing this poem I realized that all I have been doing is staring at wounds that had healed a long time ago without me realizing, and I think that is part of the beauty of change, and what took me the longest to understand. Sometimes change is just different, nothing more and nothing less. I’m scared of things changing because they might not be as good as they are now, but when it comes down to it think I changed a long time ago, as well as a few seconds ago. It honestly makes me think about this one quote from Jake the Dog I love,

“The shapes are always changing. Changing is their normal state, like us. Even if we’re not changing on the outside, we’re changing on the inside constantly. There’s some stuff about me that I’d been ignoring for a long time. I’m afraid of that stuff. But its part of who I am. As long as I know the shape of my soul, I’ll be all right.”

hey everyone, for this month’s blog i have decided to continue on with the story that i began in last month’s blog, but as the year begins to close, and knowing that i only have two blogs remaining i want this part to be my last, becuase i am hoping to make my last two blogs more of a reflection on my time at msa, but anyway-

But as days passed, so did the inches between him and the men in the park. It was only until one of the later days did, they begin to notice him as well, however Dmitri was not sure if it was in a positive or negative connotation. As he had once again found himself entranced with the way that each man would slowly drift their hands across the board as they continued their game. But before he was able to look more into the way the men’s hands would begin to move, he felt something brisk, yet firm grasp his back collar and pick him up into the air. “The fuck do you think that you are doing” a man said to him, the contents of whatever he had eaten that morning spewing on to Dmitri’s face. His teeth were stained a deep yellow and the smell of his breath was something that Dmitri remembered very strongly but did not know how one would even attempt to try to describe it. 

“Let the boy go” he heard boom from throughout the park, or at least it felt as if that was what was happening. Though he was almost certain that whether or not the voice was booming, it caused the man who still had Dmitri’s collar in his grasp to take a step back and quickly drop him to the hard concrete of the park’s path. ” If the boy wants to watch us play than there is no reason why he cannot, and no reason why your fucking disgusting hands should be on the collar of a boy that you do not know,” he said, “Do you understand?” He asked the man; however, he was only met with a fearful studder. “Come get a little closer boy” the man said, getting closer he realized that it was the very same man who he would love to watch. He had slicked back black hair and a nose that would protrude out the front of his face like a plant attempting to escape the confine so of the soil, but most of all he found himself once looking again at the man’s silver tooth, shining in the reflection of the marble board.  As the game continued on, and each man would periodically make moves that had only begun to make the smallest bit of sense to him. He did not know the name of the pieces; however, he knew what each of them did, or at least he thought that he did. “Checkmate” the silver toothed man exclaimed as he slowly placed down his large piece that sat next to the piece with the cross on its head. “Son of a bitch” the other man exclaimed, standing up and angrily throwing his hat on the ground, soon after he began too reluctantly pull money out of his back pocket and placed them in the silver toothed man’s hand. 

Walking away that afternoon he felt as if there was something different, as if getting to see more than just the periodic movements of the pieces themselves changed the way that they themselves would move. Seeing the way that the man would angrily fork over the confines of his wallet just because he moved his pieces the wrong way. Even as Dmitri lied back in one of the alleyways that he frequented it was all that he could think about, even though it had been months of watching the men play, tonight he felt as if he needed to make his way there again. So, the moment that the streetlights turned dark, Dmitri found his legs moving faster than he knew they had the capability of moving. Getting to the park he found himself walking slower and slower, as if something was going to happen if he got too close to boards, but the closer and the closer he found himself getting, the more it felt as if it was calling to him, not in the literal sense, but in the way that he continued to walk, regardless of the fact that he was afraid. Sitting down on one of the chairs that sat behind the board was a surreal feeling. One that he could never imagine until it happened to him. There were no pieces, only the black and white board that was intertwined with the concrete of the table. But this would not be the first time that he snuck to sit by the board, however the last time wouldn’t be too far away either.

It was only when March had turned to April did, he learn the name of the game which met his fascination for the past few months: chess. And it was only when the summer winds began to hit the nights of Moscow did his jacket that was now too tattered to call clothing in, the first place, finally fell apart. It had been a long time since Dmitri had taken off his jacket. But as the first few days of June knocked upon his door Dmitri was left to stare at his arms which were now caked in a deep black dirt. 

i know this isn’t a completed work but i hope everyone enjoyed what they read 🙂

Alrighty, so as of lately I have had a lot of writers block however there has been one thing that has been stuck in my mind. A piece that I have been working on to this day have consumed a lot of my time and I just wanted to share it here for a bit of feedback, this is only the first half of the piece, but I digress. Mostly if it is something that I think I can work with in the future.

The sound of piano tiles was the only thing that came to mind for Dmitri when he tried to think about his mother. It was the only thing that he could remember. At least until the ‘before nights,’ the before nights were the nights that were blurry for him, but nights that he remembered, nevertheless. They were the nights he would hide in dimly lit alleyways and the nights where the sleeves of his jacket would be littered with holes and scraps found from bistro dumpsters. The before days were the days spent ducking behind crowds and waiting for the sun to set, but most of all they were the days that Dmitri spent making sure he never had to go back to the home where he had lived before. Ever since the day that the flu had grasped its hands around Dmitri’s mother and refused to let go, Dmitri would not come back home. His mother was all that he had left, and for all he knew she still sat motionless in that same bed with a throat void of sound and skin void of color.

However, when it came to the before days, there was one day that stood out far beyond the confines of what people understood as a start. It was the day that would create Dmitri’s life. Shape it into the form of a being that sat behind an army of marble.

Dmitri did not know the name of the game that the men in the park were always playing, all he knew was the way that they sat in beholden of the way their opponents played always met his gaze. There was one man in particular who he would always find himself focused upon. It might have been due to the fact that there were always men that sat around him as he played, closely looking in on the games that he would play. However, Dmitri liked to think that it was because of the silver tooth that sat in his mouth that were already littered with crowded teeth. Every time that he would play, he would relentlessly lick at the silver tooth, as if he was trying to polish it bright enough to a point where it would distract the other player. But as Dmitri continued to watch the man play, he realized that it was instead his eyes that distracted the other player. Dmitri had always watched the games from afar, so he was never sure of what color the man’s eyes truly were, however, all he knew as that they were dark. At first, he was offput by the darkness, but with the cold nights spent huddled in dumpsters and under awnings, he had begun to find comfort in the impending darkness that were the nights of Moscow. Even when the streetlights finally cut off in the early hours of the morning Dmitri had realized he was no longer afraid, this was due to the fact that the lights had done nothing for him but block out the light of the stars. This was one of the few things that Dmitri had begun to find comfort in, this was due to the fact that no matter what happened on the harsh streets of a Soviet Jungle of concrete, no matter how many games the man one, no matter how many times the lights would flicker off, and no matter how many times mothers died, the stars in the sky would not go out, they would continue to shine every time that the streetlamps began to flicker.

January had turned to February, and to March soon after. A nine-year-old boy who stood behind alleyways to watch men play a game that he knew not the name of turned into a ten-year-old boy who would cower behind the crowds of people who walked the sidewalks, just so that he might be able to get a better look at the board. Even though the nights had begun to warm up, this did not make things easier for Dmitri. Nights spent easier outside did nothing but create more places for others to take the spots Dmitri would call home. “Dumpster Scum” he had heard one of the men at the park say one morning when a man Dmitri had recognized had crossed through the park.

This month I’m speaking on the topic of music. Real original I know, but the more that I try to extend upon my taste, the more that I come to realize that no matter what I do, no matter how many bands I extend to, it always comes back to this man: Liam Mccay. 

And I know that some of you might be asking “Who is this skinny white kid,” and to that I must say, the bane of my existence, this skinny white kid is the bane of my existence. He is a musician, a singer, the creator of many bands, and my number one Spotify artist for two years running. 

One thing that many people don’t realize when I talk about his “many bands” I mean he has MANY BANDS, these bands include: sign crushes motorist, take care, birth day, moonwater, hold, make his ribs show, manta, miserable teens club. And while these might just sound like songs on a singular album, or albums from one band’s discography, I can assure you that each of these are individual bands spearheaded by Liam Mccay. While it seems as if this might be a niche band, or something that only certain people have heard, there are many clips of his music that have gone viral all across the internet, as a result garnering one of the most infamous names in the slowcore community.

When it comes to my personal experience with this band, I found it through other friends and such, I also found it in a time in my life in which it felt as if the things being performed from the confines of Mccay’s mind was the only thing that could speak to a sad younger version of me who only liked his music because “it seemed sad enough I could understand it. But after years of listening to this artist, his music and I, growing in simultaneous fashions. What makes Liam Mccay’s Discography so unique however is that many of his songs are created with the idealization and portrayal of emotion in mind much more than any finite sound. 

Throughout my time as a listener to many of his different bands, there have been many songs that have met my infatuation and left me playing it over and over again. An example of this is a song titled “Manifesto”. What is unique about Manifesto is that it is much more similar to the name than any other song that he has ever created. Much of the song, if not all of the song, exclusively being a written manifesto being spoken out behind music, the most interesting aspects of this song are for sure the lyrics, on the surface superficial, but the longer that the song goes on the more that the ideologies being portrayed throughout the piece become apparent. I would show off specific lyrics but part of me just wants to leave it to the imagination until you find yourself interested enough to actually listen to the song. And I’m not anything if not a slave to my own intuition so I think that I’m going to take my own advice here. And listen to the godforsaken song. 

While many if not almost all of his songs are pretty downbeat, there is one song that I feel like is different beyond all of these, it is actually the song that inspired me to write this blog in the first place, it is also the song that made me realize there is no way that I am ever going to escape Liam Mcaay. It is a song called bleed. I know it might not be the most honorable strategy of discovering new music, but I heard this song on tiktok, of course it was the chorus and the best part of the song that was being played so it immediately caught my eye, or I guess my ears or however you notice music. But it was a song that had a strong chorus and a voice that just itched the right part of my brain. So, as I began listening to that song over and over, I found myself looking into more songs from that band and that album specifically. I was obsessed, not to mention super proud of myself for discovering a new artist and getting to listen to a brand-new discography. I enjoy this feeling because I like feeling that I am opening up my horizons and creating a new environment for change in my artistic interests and the way that I listen to music. But nope! It turns out it was nothing more than just my favorite artist of all time in a different font and under a different name. Which is fine I guess, if I had to listen to one creator in different fonts, I would want it to be Liam Mccay.

once a month, only ten more blogs. It’s a weird feeling. But all I’ve found I can do about it is write. but i guess that was what i was going to do in the first place so. 

media! if there is anything that can help me get out of a rut, or at least get to a place where i am feeling anything besides a weird lukewarm version of sadness all the time, it is media. though when people think about media they tend to only think about movies or maybe a podcast or two, which is fair i guess. but for the sake of both a more encompassing definition and an easier time writing this, when i say media, i mean any form of artistic entertainment. but formalities out of the way, lets get into contributing to the same format that i found myself reverting with the blogs in my junior year and name some pieces of media that have inducted the most emotion in me.

first off i cant talk about media that has really impacted me without mentioning this painting, i know that out of all forms of artistic media that is considered to be artistic media, paintings are one of the last things that come to mind. however i think that Nighthawks, an oil painting created in 1942 by edward hopper, is different, i think that it is interesting because of the indifference it provides when it comes to its level of recognition. a painting like this exists within the confines of a void. it was one of the first paintings in its time to reflect ideas of loneliness through vices of minimalism as well as capitalistic settings. 

when it comes to books there are so many different things that i could have mentioned, bram stoker, mary shelly, one of my favorite books of all time is a story written by a smaller author named Hanya Yanigahara. but for the sakes of appreciating a classic that was way ahead of its time i think i have to talk about the picture of dorian gray, this story is so incredible for a number of reasons, most of all it is one of the best “descent into madness” arcs i have ever read in my life. the story surrounds a man named dorian gray, a child of wealth and a prominent name within the upper crust of london. it is a 200-ish page story that tells the story of gray’s descent into madness as he slowly grows an admiration (soon turned fear) of a portrait of him that was painted by a close friend.

for my third instance of media that has moved me i knew that the soft white underbelly was something that i was going to have to talk about, even with that understanding there was still a part of me that wasn’t sure if it would be a good fit in the first place, but i decided that leaving it out would go against the core values of what the soft white underbelly is actually about. now a know a lot of you might be asking, what even is it, and that is a good question. The soft white underbelly is actually a youtube channel that follows a premise that was completely unheard of before they started the channel. the soft white underbelly is a channel that primarily does interviews with various types of people. they don’t do interviews with actors or models, but people, dealing with problems unimaginable. whether it be deep conversations about the lives of current heroin addicts, the stories of people who grew up in a way that not many people experience, such as amish, children of abuse, or even members of organizations like the KKK.

what i love so much about these videos are the levels of raw understanding and emotion that you can see seeping throughout every crack. another great aspect is the fact that many of the people who are interviewed end up getting help from the representatives of the channel, many of which work to get clean with that help. however, that is not always the case, a lot of people who are interviewed about their addictions do end up how many people with those issues end up, yet the soft white underbelly is able to create a legacy of information through immortalizing the stories of each of these peoples.

some people might recognize another person who made a similar prompt and a similar choice but i plead the fifth, all that means is they are right, because oh my god neon genesis evangelion is one of the best pieces of tv of all time and no one can hope to change my mind on that. whether it be the classic 90’s anime look, or the sci-fi aspects that didn’t seem too stereotypical or in your face, or the characters themselves. this anime is one of the best of all time, in fact if i was to go out on a limb i would honestly say that the only anime in my opinion that even holds a chance against this one in terms of quality it would be death note. but once again i digress. i am not going to explain too much about the plot of this show just for the sole reason that i think anyone that hasn’t seen it should definitely give it a watch.

for my final addition to this i would recommend the album the gaping mouth by a band called lowertown. while it is a lot newer than some of the additions on this list (the album coming out only three years ago) it is a must listen for me. i think that this album is especially unique because it so much different from some of their other works. the band lowertown is a two-person band who is on the smaller side when it comes to popularity. one of the coolest things they have done is open for a band called sign crushes motorist, which is one of my favorite artists of all time, but they are for a different day.