Epiphanies Are Louder When They’re Yellin’ In Your Ear by Brian Polk

Epiphanies Are Louder When They’re Yellin’ In Your Ear
By Brian Polk
Art by Sergei Prokudin-Gorsky

Published Issue 149, May 2026

I Had The Epiphany That An Epiphany Only Really Matters To The Specific Person Experiencing The Epiphany At Hand

So I have been talking to therapists and journaling in an attempt to identify and metabolize traumatic events in my life. And at first, I was a bit hesitant to partake in such intense self-examination, but recent events made it all but impossible to avoid. So I began unraveling decades of low points in my life and attempting to process my feelings about them. And I have to say, it’s been nothing short of amazing! I mean sure, there are a lot of tears and moments of pain, but the aftermath is that of sheer beauty. Anyway, I got all excited about my process, and I’ve been telling my friends things like, “Did you know that unprocessed trauma can lead to hyper vigilance?” And, “Were you aware that conjuring up the most painful parts of your past and talking about them with a licensed therapist can improve your mental health?” And people are either unimpressed because 1) they’ve already done the work years ago, 2) they definitely don’t want to do the work themselves, or 3) they’re sick of hearing me talk about myself all the damn time. And it made me realize that personal journeys are great when you’re the one journeying, but not really relevant when you’re not in the driver’s seat. It’s kind of like when you’re tripping and you try to tell your sober friend something like, “We’re all one, man. And the more you try to deny it, the less you’ll feel like you belong in the universe!” And your sober friend just shakes his head and says, “Sounds like some decent acid that you’ve been up all night on. But if you don’t mind, it’s 6:30 in the morning and I have to go to work — because even though I belong in this universe, it’d be nice if I could pay rent so I can keep belonging in this apartment.”

Also, I Had A Bet That I Could Use The Word, “Epiphany” Three Times In One Of My Column’s Titles

My friend Eric owes me $20.

And If You Just Said To Yourself, “Brian, You Are A Liar. There’s No Way You Have A Friend Eric Who Made That Bet With You,” You’d Be Half Right

I do have a friend named Eric. (IN YOUR FACE!) But yeah, you got me. He absolutely would never make a bet like that. In fact, I haven’t spoken to him in a while — even though I probably should at least text him soon. The older I get, the harder it is to keep up with old friends. It feels like yesterday we were young lads, skateboarding all day, going to punk shows, and developing lifelong aversions to Jack Daniels, because of that one night in Eric’s backyard where I got the genius idea of throwing up at night so I wouldn’t be hungover in the morning, so I kept drinking long after I knew I should stop. I mean, it worked. I definitely vomited. Do you remember that, Eric? And the next day, your dad got all mad at me for puking up a bunch of bourbon that the dog could have easily licked up. And he kept saying the last thing he wanted was a drunk-ass dog with terrible breath stumbling around the house because of me. Then he kicked me out, and we went and got breakfast meal deals at McDonald’s and spent the whole day skating and listening to that FOUR! tape, Play With Everything. Later that evening, we met up with the rest of our crew and Little Jay had Jack Daniels he stole from his uncle, but neither of us drank it, and they called us Mormons all night — even though we drank plenty of (Olympia) beers. And around midnight, we scraped your metal pipe for resin because none of us had weed, but we wanted to get high, and we didn’t really get high, but we did get buzzed enough to pick up some Taco Bell and pass out on the floor at Chris’ house. Oh man, those were the days. Anyway, how are you doing, man? I have this bet I want to talk to you about.

If You’re Single, Have You Ever Reached A Point Where You Can’t Believe All These People Are Meeting Each Other, Becoming Couples, And Staying Together? Like It Feels As Though Some Monumental, Intergenerational, Multinational Conspiracy Is Afoot, And The Sole Object Of This Elaborate Machination Is To Make You Feel Lonely And Unworthy Of Love?

I’m not there yet, but I fear this day is rapidly approaching.

Jeez, I Should Probably Get Out More

Anyone want to hang out? Oh wait, that’s right. Everyone is hanging out with their romantic partners due to the ongoing Conspiracy™ that I keep hearing about. Well then, I guess I’ll be the guy at the end of the bar trying not to succumb to a bitterness so bleak and sad that not even the bar dog wants to sit next to me. Cheers! 

Check out Brian’s last Birdy install from Issue 148, Live Streaming Panic (And Other Critical Examinations About These Trying Times), or head to our Explore section to see more from this creative.