Brandon Anderson

POV: You put a bunch of work into the world, and the feeling of liberating your thoughts is cathartic and terrifying. Quickly, the latter feeling eats up the former. So you make less work. And then you find something more important to do. Something. It’s always something. Work, errands,

I could get a job. But I didn’t want to. There wasn’t enough “easy money” in the world to get me into a pair of khakis with any type of enthusiasm.

I write, sing, act, and create. By nature and trade, I am always looking for your attention.

After Casey Goodson was murdered and before Ma'Khia Bryant was shot down, I went to an event space to rehearse with my improv troupe.

Easter is mine.   Well, technically, it’s for all of us, I guess. Celebrate as you like, please.  But if you want to know what I’m up to (and you’re going to, since you subscribed to this), I’m hosting my biggest family dinner to date. We’re

It took some time, a lot of study, and a s**t ton of courage to begin to live truthfully as a creative writer.

Some friends share heart necklaces, or get matching tattoos. I've asked Joe to do both, and he has politely declined.

In the fall of 2002, I was 220 pounds, starting a new career as a performer, freshly dumped by my upwardly mobile girlfriend, and kinda homeless. It was a confusing, disappointing time in which I was either regretful or worried at any given moment.   Oh, and angry.  Constantly angry.  So