Never Ahead, Never Behind, Never Said, Never Mind
By Brian Polk
Art by Eric Joyner
Published Issue 135, March 2025
In My Imagination, The Last Date I Went On Ended In Humiliation When She Referred To Me As “A Completely Undateable Waste Of Time” And Said, “How Could A Loser Like You Think He Deserves Love?”
In real life, I never went on such a date, because it only happened in my mind. The truth of the matter is, I am scared to death of dating again. So instead of getting on the apps and giving it any sort of effort whatsoever, I let my anxiety set the cruise control as I careen down the highway of worst case scenarios. Honestly, I never even come close to having a date end this poorly. Yet through the result of my own unforgiving brain activity, I have imagined scenarios where terrible things happen to me when I open myself up and become vulnerable. The list of terrible dates that I have envisioned includes, but is not limited to: having a drink thrown in my face, getting all excited and dressed up only to have the super volcano in Wyoming (the Yellowstone Caldera) blow its top on the way to the restaurant, being catfished by a group of ninjas-in-training who use my body to see how many times they can kill a man before he hits the ground, going out and having a wonderful time only to realize my date and I are not very compatible, spontaneously combusting (which has to be the most embarrassing thing to happen to you on a first date — other than choking, of course), choking, having my date challenge me to a thumb war and losing badly, not being able to decide which entree is better — the taco plate or the caesar wrap — and ordering the less tasty option, being found out for who I truly am, getting punched in the face by the waiter after asking if I can have the veggie platter without olives, disappointing my date because I am a middle-aged man who dresses like a 15-year-old punk rocker who never learned to tie a tie (which is true), and realizing that the only reason I am dating again in the first place is because I miss human contact and am afraid of dying alone. So yeah, it’s a real bummer of a situation.
Sometimes When You Start Feeling Better After A Long Bout Of Depression, You Stop Relating To Your Fellow Depressed Friends Who Helped You Through It
For a solid eight months, my life kind of went to shit. I encountered so many extremely sad and transformational incidents, and I just sort of lost all hope in my own future on this planet. As a result, I became embittered, and sought the company of others who viewed the world through the same prism of despair. And when I found them, they helped so much. It was comforting to commiserate with like-minded souls who found life as disappointing as I did. But then I started feeling better. And good things started happening to me. Soon enough, I didn’t relate to my sad friends as much as I used to. And they started getting frustrated about my lighter outlook on life. And then we all realized we were suddenly incompatible, which is too bad. There are very few times in life where a good mood is a betrayal, but this is one of those situations. And I do have to say, I definitely understand why they’re all disappointed in me. If one of them got better before I did, I would resent them too. That said, I’m glad it was me who got better.
That Dog Just Smiled At Me!
I was on a walk recently doing what I always do — attempting to process the constant stream of bad news and heartbreak — when I saw a dog on his walk. At first, he seemed very concentrated on his immediate surroundings; he was definitely a dog on a mission. But then he saw me, and the sides of his mouth curved upwards, and he started wagging his tail. I couldn’t believe how good this made me feel. Instantly, I was transported out of the negative prison of my mind, and I allowed myself to be excited about life for a few moments. I believe my inner monologue was something like, No matter how terrible things get, at least there are dogs in this bullshit world! Everything seemed a lot lighter after that.
I Feel Like We All Have That Friend, Who, If They Were To Give Up On Life, Nobody Would Know
Don’t get me wrong, I envy dudes who never shave or comb their hair and wear sweatpants and stained t-shirts all the time, but if they ever went through a bout of depression, I would most definitely miss the most obvious signs. These are the same friends who are already prone to existentially dark outlooks and are always ready to offer the most depressing take whenever the discussion changes topics. So I would definitely have to wait for them to self-report any negative changes in their demeanor. Otherwise, I would just be like, “Killer sweatpants, Sam,” like I always do.
Despite What You May Have Heard, A Hill Of Beans Is Actually Quite Valuable
As someone who eats many beans, I have to say, I’m not sure where the expression, “… doesn’t amount to a hill of beans,” came from. If someone were to give me a hill of beans, I would say, “Thank you for this entire hill of beans. Perhaps I will freeze half of them so they don’t go bad too quickly, because this is a very valuable gift that you have bestowed upon me.” Then I would make some nachos with the unfrozen half.
Brian Polk is a Denver-based writer, publisher of The Yellow Rake, and drummer for Joy Subtraction and Simulators. He’s the author of Placement of Character and Turning Failure into Ideology. He likes writing, muck raking, yellow journalism, zines not blogs, cheap booze and punk rock.
Eric Joyner is a San Francisco-based artist who specializes in robots and donuts. Learn more about Eric and see more of his work on his siteand on Instagram.
Check out Brian’s February issue install, That’s Not Helpful and Other Words Of Advice, and Eric’s art, Train Ride Home, the companion to Zac Dunn’s, Oora On The Aura We See, or head to our Explore section to see more of their work.