Andrew Brobyn’s Guide to ‘Babble On: A Drug Memoir’

Clown Houses’ Kat Lukin gets her questions answered.

Babble On: A Drug Memoir is the poetry enthusiast's new gym membership. You can forget about sonnets and iambic pentameter— Andrew Brobyn’s Babble On is a dynamic workout on the mind and soul. Brobyn’s disjointed story structure, paired with the exploration of disjointed personhood, creates a compelling ‘trip’ as Brobyn details his drug-dealing exploits. The nonlinear recollection of Brobyn’s early life will be an adjustment for some and a joy ride for others. Brobyn’s truth about his untamed relationship with substances, and the unstable lifestyle which follows, untangles in a wickedly poetic fashion. His lyrical prose enmeshes with philosophy, which opens discussions about the role of art, thought and mental health. 

Bury, Isabelle. Andrew Brobyn in High Park (2024).

Clown House met Andrew Brobyn at our SLITHERS open mic in November 2023. He read a passage from Babble On and we were intrigued enough to get a copy, which was quickly devoured. The following interview asks the questions that came to mind towards the end of the reading. Brobyn was quick to answer. Spoilers ahead. 

Bury, Isabelle. Andrew Brobyn Reading at Slithers (2023). Clown House Arts Collective.

CH: The topic of legacy took me out of the text because I’m not entirely sure it exists. Human fragile, nature big, strong, gives no fucks. Human emotional, temporary, dies, forgotten. When Brobyn babbles about legacy, it leaves a hopeful message for fellow nihilists and people experiencing mental health challenges. Part of Andrew’s legacy with this book is having an open conversation between people experiencing mental health challenges and being a source of hope for those who need it. I’m still unconvinced, so I ask: If everything is temporary, why is legacy important?

AB: Legacy is our connection to infinity. Anything can be a legacy, though. Stomping on an anthill can be a legacy, and may be no less important than being a billionaire philanthropist, or having a hundred kids, or something like that. Essentially, I believe there are ways you can leave a legacy– having those kids, being that billionaire philanthropist, leaving intellectual, cultural, and scientific legacies. 

Legacies act as tendrils into the infinite. I believe in God. To me, God is the infinite that we are all constantly becoming, together, intertwined. 

I want to leave as many legacies as possible and spread my tendrils into space and time and become as much of God as I can be. Does that make sense? Is it incredibly vain?

CH: Next question. Out of all literary genres, why did you choose the memoir for your first large-scale project?

AB: I didn’t want to. I had no intention of writing a memoir. I generally read fantasy and traditional fiction and a lot of short stories. But, I wrote this short story based on a drug trade (one of the first chapters, where you meet ‘Soulless’) and showed it to a writer buddy who was like, “Dude, this story needs to keep going. This is a book. Do you have any more stories like this?” To which I said something along the lines of, ”Fuck yeah.” But, I didn’t want my name associated with it. I wanted people to think the whole book was fiction–y’know, so I could lead a normal life after it came out. But, when I ran into the woman who would soon become my editor I wasn’t paying very close attention to what she was saying and missed the ‘non’ in, “I’m the new non-fiction editor at Dundurn Press.” By the time I realized I’d have to own the stories I’d already been offered the deal and didn’t want to back out.

CH: Should writing have a purpose? Should it be well crafted and intricately structured like “the greats” or an exercise of freedom and self-expression?

AB: I don’t think anything needs a purpose. But I do think everything has or creates a purpose. I always get people telling me they want to write a book. I encourage everyone to do it. Whether it’s good or has purpose is irrelevant; it’s cathartic: and that’s why you should be writing. I’m sure most of their books would be shit. I mean, most books are pretty shite when you get into it, at least when compared with ‘the greats’, but ‘the greats’ are only decided once the book’s done and out there. Might as well try. 

I guess, maybe, at the end of this answer, I’ve decided the purpose of writing is to write. It’s always nice when someone else reads, though.

While we’re on that subject, buy my book, Babble On, available anywhere free speech is.

CH: What would you like others to take away from your book?

AB: I’d like the outsiders to be heard and felt, and I want the insiders to listen and feel. It’s a redemption story to give hope to the ‘hopeless’, but it’s also an insight into the life of drugs and mental illness for those who are well and want to understand those who aren’t. 

I want people deep in the shit to read it and be like, “Oh, it can get better.” And I want people in the clear to be like, “Oh…it can get a lot worse.” 

I want people to understand that mental health is fickle and anything can happen to anyone at any time. I want people to be empathetic.

Bury, Isabelle. Andrew Brobyn in High Park (2024).

CH: Do you have advice for others who bear the “Cluster B” badge for eccentric personalities? 

AB: Be very careful when entering long-term relationships, and always THINK BEFORE YOU TALK! The number of times I’ve just spurted something out, known immediately I was wrong, and then faced the repercussions is uncountable. So, yeah, slow down your speech and analyze: “Is this what I want to say? Or is this my personality showing through?” Back to the long-term relationship issue: let your partner know as soon as it’s reasonable that you have cluster b traits. Encourage them to look those up and talk to you about them; how they manifest, in particular, in you. If you have a supportive partner, that will stave off a lot of trouble.

CH: What is your opinion on labels— labelling oneself and identifying with something or someone?

AB: I don’t like labels. When I was a kid I wouldn’t wear anything with a logo or label on it…partly because of child labour, partly to stand out among my logoed friends and take the moral high ground, and partly because I don’t rep other people’s shit for free. I’m far too fluidic for labels…none of them have the right texture to their adhesive to stick to me. I don’t like being confined, and labels inhibit by nature. Be your own person. Make yourself. Let your name be the label you earn. Be a fuckin’ individual.

CH: Do you think there is something narcissistic about identifying oneself as an artist or would you argue that humans are narcissistic regardless of their labels? Or would you argue that humans are artists regardless of how that art manifests itself (and would it still be narcissistic)?

AB: Lots to this question: is there something inherently narcissistic about identifying oneself as an investment banker? Probably, but possibly not at the same time. Definitely no to the third part of that question: humans are not inherently artists…I’ve had that thought while I’m on acid…but I was on acid at the time and not thinking my clearest. Most likely the second part of the question rings truest: humans are inherently narcissistic. I mean, I can’t cast that label on all of us, like some fishing net, but, in my experience, everyone’s got a touch of narcissism going on…the ‘what about me-ism’? I wouldn’t argue any of these answers, though. My feelings on the subject are likely subject to change depending on who I’m talking to, or about.

CH: On the topic of ‘what about me-ism’s, do you believe there is an international victimhood crisis that overlaps this country's ability to deal with mental illness/mental health in general?

AB: Yeah. Everyone and their uncle has alleged ‘mental problems’, but most of them aren’t (I don’t want to say serious, because I try to never downplay someone else’s mental health, but) clinical in nature. What I’m saying here is that not everyone needs medication, even though everyone claims to. Especially with younger people. We tend to say, “OMG, THIS IS THE WORST THING EVER,” multiple times a day, about multiple things. That’s not how the word ‘worst’ works. We need to recognize what that ‘worst’ really means, and zero our efforts in on these cases. I’m not sure if that answers your question…I’m not sure I even understood your question…but, yeah, I think the system is swamped. Don’t get me wrong, something like 1 in 3 Canadians will experience mental health problems at some point in their life, and that’s tragic; but, those 2 in 3 often say they’re crazy and it fucks with the 1 in 3.

CH: How do you manage imposter syndrome?

AB: I don’t. At least, not very well. I try to think, ‘I’m a super-genius, all this is easy as pie!’ but, at the end of the day, I’m still filled with just as much self-loathing and doubt as the next super-genius writer. I guess humour.

CH: Babble On mentions several quintessential author-philosophers such as Hegel, Kierkegaard, and de Beauvoir. What have these philosophers added to your philosophy? Is there anyone who left such a powerful influence on your psyche and work that you wish you put in the book but couldn’t?

AB: Honestly, I got barely anything out of these philosophers. My undergrad culminated, eventually, after forays into biology, with a philosophy degree. But, as I read all these philosophers for school I was kinda just like, “Yeah. Duh.” It was verbalized symbolic logic, and it was boring. It was just if/then thought to me. I know, that comes off as incredibly pretentious, so be it. The one philosopher I actually got much out of was Lao Tzu, and it probably shows in the book if you read it with that knowledge.

That said, there is a book I recommend to anyone curious about philosophy, or history, or anything human in general: Ideas: A History From Fire To Freud by Peter Watson. It traces the history of ideas from proto-ideas, like bipedalism, or the discovery of fire, to splitting the atom. For such an expansive book, it’s a really compelling read, and flows naturally. It’s no textbook–genuinely a good read. I learned a lot from that book, and used a lot of that knowledge in the book.

CH: Throughout Babble On, observant readers might pick up on the motif of milk. Whether chocolate or whole, does milk bear any deeper meaning or is it purely a detail associated with drug use? What is Andrew Brobyn’s relationship with dairy?

AB: Hahaha, I love this question. Observant indeed. I just genuinely love milk. All dairy. I’m a cheese aficionado. Like, I have every intention and aspiration of becoming vegetarian, and ideally vegan, before I die–but milk is the toughest ask. Harder than bacon. Milk has a primal comfort to it. It’s what we all start on. Specifically, for those interested, I go apeshit–like, 8-year-old apeshit–for strawberry milk. On the drug front there actually is a connection: one morning I woke up and I was still tripping off something. I rode the subway being eaten by anxiety about getting caught and got to school and went straight to my most ‘stoner’ buddies and asked how you stop tripping. One of them said, “Eat a muffin and drink some milk.” I went to the cafeteria, ate a muffin and drank like 3 or 4 cartons of milk, and it worked. Whether it was the milk and muffin, filling my stomach, or just the time it took to work through, something jived, and I was sober by lunch. Hectic first two classes though.

CH: Milk is our first food-its no wonder milk is an aid for comedowns and hangovers. However, the milk we consume as older children and adults is synthetic, it is unnatural compared to our mothers milk. Brobyn's milk motif is synonymous with his consumption of drugs and thus 'the chase,' to feel something other. The 'other,' acts as a replica of what was before, like a clawing back to Eden after exile.

CH: Family structures have an inherent effect on our lives, our understanding of the world, and our art. I don't know if it is possible to create something without having your lived experience affect its creation. How do you think family structures have affected your art? 

AB: Oh, all the ways. My dad’s the artist in my family, which meant I was okay to explore my creative side as a kid while other boys in my class toying with emotion in drawing or writing or acting or dance, etc. were bullied (when I was raised gay jokes were all the rage). My first high school was ESA, Etobicoke School for the Arts, which my peers called, “ES-Gay.” My dad painted the role model of a creative, sensitive cis-gendered man for me, which allowed me to study that creative side of myself from a young age.

Brobyn. Andrew Brobyn's dad's art.

My mom, on the other hand, was the disciplinarian of the family, which, if you read the book, will indicate that we had a few bouts over our time together. Our relationship has grown a lot over the last few years. Especially since the birth of my son in 2022. But we had a rocky relationship for a long time. A lot of our fights fueled the anger and pain that got me involved in the nastiness I got up to, and the art that came out of it–and that’s not to blame her, I was just a tough kid to deal with. And I wouldn’t want to be the one who had to keep a 16-year-old me in line. I’m not sure if that answers your question. But, that’s how the cookie crumbled.

Brobyn. Andrew Brobyn's dad's art.

CH: If there was an asteroid headed towards the Earth and you only had 24 hours left: which literary genius of our time would you spend your last moments of life with? (in this hypothetical your son is also welcome to join)

AB: Honestly, dick move here…I’d be alone with my son. I could tell him stories and sing songs from the heart and not have to listen to some ‘literary genius’ prattle on about their life philosophies. I’d just want to be alone with my son to cradle him and tell him I’d see him again soon on the other side.

Clown House adored getting the chance to walk and talk with Andrew Brobyn. We strolled through High Park with the author and he showed us where key scenes of Babble On (such as the skinhead mugging and the drowning) took place. When he’s not hiding in the woods, Brobyn can be spotted at Clown House events such as our upcoming local Book Swap and Sale on December 15th 2024! Join the Clown House Cool Books Club by buying a copy of Babble On: A Drug Memoir from Dundurn Press or Amazon Books.  

Brobyn, Andrew. Babble On: A Drug Memoir. 2022. Instagram.