Mean City June 29, 2026
I’ve always thought of Wichita Falls, Texas, as a hard place to live. I don’t find much Southern hospitality here—if it’s here, I haven’t experienced much of it. Most days I don’t feel especially comfortable just going outside.
Over the years I’ve worked as a musician, in maintenance, trucking, and a handful of other jobs. I’ve met some genuinely kind people, but I’ve also run into a lot of meanness. I’ve even been assaulted by other musicians.
I don’t think everyone’s against me. I think it’s simpler than that: I just don’t have a crowd. And when you don’t have a crowd, the world can feel a lot more hostile.
So it doesn’t surprise me when people move away and say, “People are so nice here.” Maybe they’re getting smiles, eye contact, curiosity instead of assumptions. Maybe someone offers to help. Maybe they throw a party and people actually come. Those things can make a place feel entirely different.
What strikes me about our town is how much identity seems wrapped up in labels. Stainless steel cups, pickup trucks, guns, boots, politics, church, music, food—we often sort ourselves into camps based on brands, affiliations, or symbols instead of who we actually are. Sometimes those labels seem to matter more than the people wearing them.
That creates an atmosphere where everyone is a little more defensive. And for people who are especially sensitive to conflict, the easiest response is to stay home. Then the community gets a little quieter, a little more divided, and the cycle continues.
Social media didn’t help me. When I was active on it, I started seeing the world in brands too—brands of news, religion, guitars, politics, everything. It gave me the feeling that I belonged somewhere, and that was comforting and an adrenaline rush. It also made me an easier customer.
The platforms learned what I cared about, what I disliked, what upset me, and they fed me more of all of it. My world became smaller, simpler, and less real than the one outside my front door.
People aren’t brands. They’re complicated. They don’t come with labels stamped on them, even though we often advertise the ones we’ve chosen. I’ve learned that judging people by those labels gets me nowhere. If I’m going to judge anything, it should be actions—not slogans, products, or affiliations.
Simple answers are attractive because complex questions are hard. Sometimes the honest answer is that we don’t know yet. Sometimes we have to read, think, research, and sit with uncertainty for a while. There’s not much profit in encouraging people to do that.
So if there’s one thing I hope for, it’s this: that something I write might make someone curious enough to look something up for themselves. You don’t have to tell me if you do. I can imagine it just like I do your politics, shoes, favorite meal, etc.
That’s enough for me. -kelly
NEWSLETTER: June 19, 2026
1st thing, thanks.
The Djembe Funk record was a success. Thanks so much for sharing it and listening to it. I’ve gotten so many nice comments and warm vibes from it. It feels great to be me at the moment.
I learned something with that record; I sound better than I can write about difficult topics. So I have upped the protest music, and toned down the written protest. Trying to play to strengths. Many of the words I spoke on the album were from the blog I’ve taken down. It was clear to me, I sound nicer than I type. Even with the same exact words.
About changing things up..
I’ve been changing things up. The more time I spend offline, the better I feel without it. I miss folks, but I don’t miss crowds in my head. If one or two people are in my head, I’m fine. But I don’t like what comes out when I feel like I am always performing, even if I always want to.
I deleted the blog because I don’t want to be a voice in anyone’s head like they get to be voices in mine. Plus I’m wrong a lot of the times on my first guess so I decided to not be part of the clutter.
Since then, I’ve gone analog in the music room. I’ve learned screens are two way streets, not just me looking at them. Every program or app I was using was using me. So, no more screens where there’s recording or jamming. I am even mixing without screens too. New for me, but I love how gratifying it is. Turn a knob, something happens.
I did’t expect to get so relaxed. My big takeaway from this is “wow! Am I laid back for what feels like the first time in forever?” Writing lyrics has been happening for several days, it’s easier. I don’t feel tense in my brain. And I can zone out on myself doing guitar or something musical for longer periods. I know screens engage us. I didn’t realize how much they wear us out. The news from out here is “the water’s great.”
Plans? Releases? Irons in the fire?
I am busy with a friend’s remix/remaster. I have a lot of protest funk lyrics I’d like to jam out. But the main thing for me at the moment is The Kintners double-album coming on Christmas. I spend more time on that than anything, I am in love with it right now. I hope it will be a long, definitive Kintners’ playlist that is cohesive from start to finish. Hard work. But really, the best kind of work. Thanks again for the Djembe Funk love. Kelly