Personal Favourites Collection

Vintage-style illustration of Cupid running through a garden, reaching toward a flowering rose bush with one hand while holding a bow in the other. He has curly auburn hair, pink wings, a quiver of arrows on his back, and a draped pink cloth around his hips. The scene is set against a turquoise background with green shrubbery and grass.

Love and Romance in the Times of Our Apocalypse

June 29, 2026

86% of American adults aged 18-24 are currently unpartnered; 78% of dating app users feel exhausted by online dating. How are people supposed to fall in love while the Doomsday Clock ticks at 85 seconds to midnight? On the yearning microgenre that overtook social media, Indigenous scholars decolonizing the pair bond, global feminist movements withdrawing from heterosexual relationships entirely, and what it means to be a serial monogamist finally learning the difference between Eros and Agape.

Oil painting of a vanitas still life: a human skull resting on an open book with blue-edged pages, set against a dark background. To the left, pink roses in a glass vase; to the right, a bouquet of colorful flowers with a small paper scroll bearing handwritten text. An hourglass sits on the book's edge in the lower right, and a dark, curved snuffed candle rests near the flowers.

You Must, You Must, You Must

June 24, 2026

I've been sitting with a single word change. 'Will' versus 'must' in the Latin phrase Memento Mori, and it's shifted everything for me. A meditation on mortality as obligation rather than fate, and what it means to truly reckon with the fact that we must die, and therefore we must live and love.

Watercolour painting of a lush garden scene dominated by deep and yellow-greens, with clusters of soft lavender-pink flowering lilacs blooming throughout dense foliage. Small white wildflowers dot the lower foreground. The brushwork is loose and impressionistic, with washes of colour blending into the cream-white of the unpainted paper at the upper left. Hints of red stems and teal leaves add contrast within the greenery.

Blogging Saved My Life

June 17, 2026

Writing publicly and frequently for the past seven months has saved my life. Six ways consistent public writing transformed me: cultivating curiosity, building connections, investigating rabbit holes, starting new projects, creating accountability, and seeing life's patterns in real-time. An invitation for others to begin writing without restraint.

Scientific illustration of the spotted lanternfly (Lycorma delicatula), an invasive species, depicted as an adult in flight against a light grey background. The insect is shown from above with wings fully extended. The outer forewings are tan/beige with scattered black oval spots and dark grey tips. The inner hindwings are vivid red with black spots and white patches near the body, edged in solid black. The abdomen is yellow with bold black horizontal bands. The head is dark brown with visible eyes. Text at top reads 'SPOTTED LANTERNFLY / Lycorma delicatula * INVASIVE' in bold black and red type. A gold badge in the upper right reads 'ADULT IN FLIGHT.' Illustrated by Molly Schafer.

THE LANTERNFLY.

June 7, 2026

The spotted lanternfly is beautiful and terrible, an invasive species that illuminates even as it destroys. AI-generated content is flooding the Internet, and authenticity is becoming a premium commodity. We must refuse the premise that human writing is a niche product.

Close-up photograph of numerous padlocks attached to a chain-link fence, with a red lock in sharp focus bearing the handwritten message 'FUCK LOVE!' in white paint. The surrounding locks are blurred by a shallow depth of field, while warm orange and yellow tones in the background create a soft, out-of-focus glow. The featured lock shows signs of rust and wear, contrasting with the romantic 'love lock' tradition typically associated with such fences.

A Ship in Harbour is Safe

June 5, 2026

Nassim Nicholas Taleb's concept of 'skin in the game' is the idea that true learning only happens when you have something to lose. And I look at IndieWeb principles of using what you make to publishing under your real name. Having risk and real stakes is essential for creative work. A ship in harbour is safe, but that's not what ships are built for.

A trompe-l'œil painting depicting a scattered collection of aged historical documents, letters, and newspapers overlapping one another. The papers are rendered in warm sepia and cream tones, suggesting significant age. Documents include handwritten letters in German cursive script (Kurrent), printed newspapers with Gothic blackletter typefaces bearing dates from 1817, official-looking certificates with wax seals and decorative borders, folded correspondence with red wax seal remnants, and what appears to be sheet music. Several documents feature ornate engravings of coats of arms or figures on horseback. A few pieces of red sealing wax are scattered among the papers. The arrangement creates a sense of historical layering, as though the viewer is looking down at a desk or archive drawer full of early 19th-century European correspondence and ephemera.

A Love Letter to Everything

May 17, 2026

My first IndieWeb Carnival entry—the theme is love letters, and I couldn't pick just one thing. A letter to the infrastructure that holds my corner of the internet together, to the strangers who maintain the open-source tools I depend on every day, and to the IndieWeb friends I've met over the past few months. And finally, to curiosity: the embarrassing willingness to fall in love with a static-site generator or a transit system or a protocol nobody's heard of, which I've come to believe is what kept me alive.

A dark oil painting depicting a man's head lying at the edge of a luminous turquoise river, his eyes half-open and expression serene or unconscious. The surrounding landscape is rendered in deep blacks and earth tones, with the vivid blue-green water serving as the primary light source. Three pale birds fly through the dark sky above him. The brushwork is loose and expressive, evoking a Romantic or Symbolist style. The overall mood is ethereal and elegiac.

On Being a River

May 14, 2026

Sixty thousand miles of blood vessels run inside each of us, more than twice around the Earth. 330 billion cells are replaced every single day. Humanity has always built civilization beside rivers because we are rivers. Always in motion, never stepping into the same current twice, carrying cells that live only days alongside neurons that will last precisely as long as we do.

GRAIN ELEVATOR COUNTRY

April 15, 2026

A fifteen-hour road trip across Saskatchewan with my brother, watching the prairie unfold through grain elevators and abandoned towns. The quiet weight of prairie masculinity, the failure of academic knowledge to translate into brotherly wisdom, and the architecture of goodwill found in midnight motels.

A softly lit interior scene shows a young person seated at a small table, writing with a quill pen. They are viewed from behind, wearing a loose white shirt, while a mirror in front reflects their face as they concentrate on their work. On the table are ink bottles and writing tools. A wooden chair and a draped coat sit to the right, and the textured wall and muted colors give the scene a quiet, intimate, painterly atmosphere.

Poetry Saved My Life

April 14, 2026

I snuck off school grounds to write in a back alley, shoplifting Ginsberg and Neruda from Chapters, and I'm alive and writing today because of that. Recent neuroscience confirms poetry activates the brain's dopaminergic reward system, treats anhedonia, and is—more than metaphor—medicine.

On the left stands a skeletal figure representing Death—a skull-headed form draped in a dark robe covered in crosses, circles, and geometric patterns in deep blues, blacks, and purples, gazing toward the right. On the right, a dense, intertwined mass of human figures representing Life cluster together in sleep or reverie—infants, adults, and elders pressed close, their bodies wrapped in richly decorated robes and garments featuring Klimt's signature mosaic-like patterns of reds, pinks, oranges, and greens. The figures of Life face away from or remain oblivious to Death's presence. The background is a murky, painterly dark green-grey.

Loss, and Loss, and Loss: A Eulogy

April 11, 2026

A eulogy for two kinds of loss: those who die and those who become simply elsewhere. Filtered through Didion, Barthes, C.S. Lewis, and Pema Chödrön. On ambiguous grief, the names written down so they don't disappear, and the sixteen-year-old who already knew that love stems out from verbs.

A photograph of Earth from deep space, slightly off-centre and partially in shadow, with a thin luminous blue atmospheric halo visible along the sunlit edge. Australia's arid interior is visible as a rust-coloured landmass on the left side. Swirling cloud systems cover much of the Pacific Ocean to the right. Stars are faintly visible in the black background, and a bright lens flare appears near the lower right.

That's Home. That's us.

April 6, 2026

We have the first human photograph of Earth from space in 54 years, and I can't help but meditate on what it means to be human on a fragile planet in 2026.

A waxing gibbous moon photographed against a deep teal night sky, rising above a bank of soft cumulus clouds. The lunar surface is sharply detailed, with visible craters and maria. The clouds in the foreground are lit from below with a warm golden tone, contrasting with the cool blue of the sky.

THE MOON

April 5, 2026

Born on April 13th, 26 years after Apollo 13's failure, I explore my personal connection to the Moon as Artemis II astronauts journey toward Her. The Moon has scientific importance, cultural naming traditions, religious significance across civilizations, linguistic ties to lunacy and menstruation, and is the first poem. The Moon unites humanity across time and space as we return to Her once again.

Great News: brennan.day is being acquired!

April 1, 2026

After MONTHS of hard, gruelling work being completely independent on my personal site, I've been lucky enough to find healthy, sustainable partnerships with several incredible companies. Today, I'm sharing some significant changes to how brennan.day operates—and what that means for you, my readers.

French illustrated card titled 'Le Langage des Porte-Bonheur' (The Language of Good Luck Charms), featuring fourteen labelled lucky symbols arranged around the title: a red heart charm (Amour / Love), a fish (Paix / Peace), a horn (Joie / Joy), a red shoe (Santé / Health), the number 13 in a circle (Longévité / Longevity), a dice (Gain / Gain), a bouquet of daisies and forget-me-nots at centre, an anchor (Espérance / Hope), a pansy flower (Souvenir / Memory), a horseshoe (Veine / Luck), a pig (Prospérité / Prosperity), a red horseshoe magnet (Argent / Money), and a four-leaf clover (Bonheur / Happiness).

The Blogging Übermensch, or, Being the Luckiest Person on Earth

March 31, 2026

Exploring constitutive moral luck through Nagel and Williams alongside Nietzsche's Übermensch and amor fati, I reflect on the recursive gratitude I feel for who I constitutively am—and argue that blogging is a philosophical practice of self-overcoming: a daily, recursive Yes to existence.

A Baroque celestial hemisphere map, depicting the constellations of the northern sky as mythological figures and animals. The circular map is bordered by a red ring marked with constellation and zodiac names. Within the map, labelled constellations appear as colourful illustrated characters: Aquarius pouring water, a large red Scorpion, Cancer as a red lobster, Pegasus as a winged horse, Ursa Major and Minor as bears, Orion, Perseus, Cygnus, Boötes, Virgo, Draco, Andromeda, and many others. Star positions are marked with small white rosettes. The map is overlaid with grid lines indicating celestial coordinates including the equinoctial and solstitial colures. The corners of the image are decorated with cherubs (putti) floating among pink and blue clouds.

Constellation of Living Stars

March 17, 2026

I've written 120 blog posts in the past 140 days, averaging 1,900 words per post. 250,000 words total on my blog currently. It's as good a time as any to review my work so far and speculate on the possibilities of my future.

A early-2000s home computer setup featuring a beige CRT monitor displaying Windows XP with MSN Messenger open, alongside a matching beige tower PC with a DVD drive and blue accent panel. The desk is covered with a striped cloth, and a beige keyboard sits in the foreground next to a metal cup. Small figurines and a photo are propped on top of the monitor. A speaker is visible to the right, and red curtains hang in the background. The photo has a warm, faded green-yellow tint

CHILDHOOD: Hypercapitalist Nostalgia & Unsupervised Internet Access

March 15, 2026

My nostalgia is hypercapitalist. My nostalgia is the worst of the unregulated Internet. I cannot decouple my fondest memories from the corporations and the loss of innocence that produced them, and I'm not sure there's anything wrong with that.

A loose, expressive watercolour and ink sketch depicting an interior scene with multiple figures. A reclining nude figure in blue and pale pink dominates the lower left foreground. Behind them, a seated figure in purple and green occupies a chair. The background is filled with warm golden yellow and features framed artworks or windows on the wall, rendered in dark gestural lines. Additional standing or seated figures are suggested on the right side through rapid, overlapping ink marks in blue, green, and dark brown. Red accents appear throughout the composition. The style is spontaneous and gestural, characteristic of mid-20th century expressionist drawing.

Write Weird Shit

March 11, 2026

Dogfooding my freewriting; an experiment on why writers need to embrace the weird, unfiltered, and unconventional rather than fearing AI detection.

A series of feminist murals painted on a long outdoor wall in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. The foreground mural on a pink background depicts a illustrated woman with a red braid wearing a beret bearing the Venus/female symbol, beside the text 'Women Rise Up!' in bold red lettering within a blue circle. Behind it, a pink panel reads 'Get Your Laws Off My Body' in white text. Further along the wall, a blue panel features a group illustration of diverse women. The wall runs alongside a brick-paved walkway, with trees visible in the background.

We As Men Must Do More, and We Must Do Better

March 9, 2026

An open letter to the men in my life and around the world, pleading that we recognize there is so much work for us to do. A recognition of my own shortcomings and failures. Steps we can take to try to liberate the future.

The Big Arch Distraction (while the World is Burning)

March 5, 2026

A CEO took a comically small bite of a burger. The internet erupted. Meanwhile, the US is bombing Iran, Trump is drafting executive orders to seize control of the midterms, and civil unrest is reaching a boiling point. We need to talk about what we're choosing to look at.

A hand-colored photograph of a male stage actor in 17th-century French theatrical costume, reclining languidly in an ornate gilded armchair. He wears a deep burgundy velvet coat with elaborate lace cravat and cuffs, white stockings with gold embroidered detail, and black heeled shoes.

'The Friend of Mankind Is No Friend of Mine': What's the Misanthrope's Place in Community?

February 27, 2026

My second principle for the IndieWeb requires good faith writing excludes the misanthrope. I want to reconsider that, carefully. Because the question of who gets to be here, and why, is more interesting and more complicated than I first let on.

A dramatic 19th-century painting depicting a Stone Age scene with prehistoric humans gathered around a massive woolly mammoth. The central figure stands with arms raised holding a large bone or tusk, while others surround them in animated poses. Some figures work with mammoth tusks and bones in the foreground, while others celebrate or dance in the background. The scene is set against a dusky sky with birds flying overhead, and the composition conveys a sense of triumph and communal activity following a successful hunt.

12,000 Generations: On Deep Time, Grief, and the Body

February 25, 2026

Turning thirty during a breakup while the world unravels. Meditating on the 12,000 generations of homo sapiens that came before us, and what it means to be embodied in this particular moment of deep time.

Two men carrying a dark green couch across a street in a tropical urban setting with palm trees. The couch has 'THIS IS STOLEN' written on it in large white hand-painted letters. Background shows commercial buildings, power lines, and vehicles on what appears to be a sunny day.

My Malware Story Gets Stolen; Yet Another Argument for the IndieWeb

February 21, 2026

A few days after writing about a weird malware campaign, I discovered that half a dozen cybersecurity news outlets had picked up the story. They now outrank me on Google. A metacommentary on the state of internet journalism, attribution, and what it says that a netsec industry has to rely on amateurs to break stories.

A hand holding an abalone shell up toward the camera on a rocky beach, displaying its iridescent interior of swirling greens, purples, pinks, and golds with characteristic respiratory holes visible on the left side. Crashing ocean waves and dark coastal rocks are visible in the blurred background under a partly cloudy sky.

What Can I Offer? The Shell.

February 20, 2026

I believe writing is sacred medicine, and I have been thinking about the writing I have been offering you over the past few months. Is it healing? Is it good? Please, let me know. I am here to give you an offering.

Immature sunflower in pre-bloom stage. Sunflowers are a heliotropic species, which means that immature sunflowers in the bud stage will track the sun from east to west during the day and will return to face the east during the night. However, when the blooming stage is reached sunflowers are no longer heliotropic although most flowerheads will face east.

The Many Wonders of Being a Late Bloomer

February 18, 2026

Being developmentally delayed has benefits, and I am embracing the journey of being a late bloomer in writing, web development, and life.

The Temperance tarot card (XIV) overlaid on a wildfire background. The black and white card depicts a winged angel with a radiant halo, wearing flowing robes with a triangle symbol on the chest. The angel pours liquid between two cups, one in each hand. The scene includes a sun symbol in the lower left, water at the angel's feet, iris flowers on the right, and mountains in the distance.

Unseasonal

February 13, 2026

Reflections on an unseasonably warm February day in Calgary, contemplating the accelerating pace of change in our world and finding meaning in small moments of connection and presence.

A dark pit with a waterfall cascading down steep moss-covered cliff walls, viewed from below, with mist rising through the narrow canyon opening to a cloudy sky above

Our Shared Oblivion

February 10, 2026

How the inevitability of oblivion can be a source of relief, while also examining our sacred duty to make things better in the present moment through persistent, stubborn action in the direction of care.

A vibrant yellow dandelion grows through a crack in weathered asphalt pavement, its bright petals in sharp focus against a softly blurred background of trees and grass along a path.

To Continue with Hope

January 31, 2026

Writing about the state of the world as a cusp Millennial/Gen Z that grew up in the optimistic Obama era, contrasting that with what today holds for us.

Black and white photograph of a store window displaying a large 'CODING BOOTCAMPS CLOSING DOWN' sign. Surrounding signs advertise clearance sales including 'WATCHES £7', 'LAPTOPS & GEAR £75', 'EVERYTHING £5', and 'EVERYTHING £50', all marked as 'GOING OUT OF BUSINESS'.

The Final Coding Bootcamp: A Eulogy for Lighthouse Labs

January 25, 2026

What is the future of coding bootcamps? Is there a future? And, more importantly, what is the future of junior developers in an industry with an effortless AI bubble?

A healthcare worker in full protective equipment, including a blue gown, surgical cap, face mask, and gloves, sits exhausted on the floor of a hospital hallway, leaning against a medical cart. The corridor stretches behind them with empty gurneys and medical equipment visible along the pale walls under fluorescent lighting, conveying the physical and emotional toll of frontline medical work.

The Pandemic Never Ended. We Only Pretend it Did

January 19, 2026

Six years into COVID-19, the world has moved on while the virus continues to disable millions. An examination of the ongoing pandemic, long COVID, and our collective failure to prevent a mass disabling event.