Want to hear the unfiltered version?

This article grew out of a spontaneous 13-minute audio message I recorded from my back porch while watching the sunset. In it, I talk about the future of Apocalypse…Now?, the challenges of creating authentic work online, what’s happening behind the scenes, and what I’m working on next.

The bonus episode is available to all Patreon members, including free members.

Join for free and listen here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/160421946?utm_campaign=postshare_creator 

The older I get, the more I realize that creativity and success are not the same thing.

For years, Apocalypse…Now? followed a format that felt familiar to many podcasters. I interviewed guests, researched their work, and created conversations that introduced audiences to interesting people and ideas. There was real value in that. Podcasting was built on connection, collaboration, and community.

But the internet has changed.

Today, it feels like everyone is standing in front of a microphone. Social media platforms reward the constant churning out of content. Algorithms push creators toward trends, outrage, and endless content production. Instead of building relationships, many platforms seem designed to move audiences from one viral moment to the next as quickly as possible.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t having as much fun.

That realization during my honeymoon in Italy, and I tried to formulate a plan that would bring my joy back. While I was away, I started thinking seriously about what I wanted this show to be and why I started it in the first place, and I knew something needed to change.

The new format of Apocalypse…Now? gives me room to do things I wasn’t doing before.

It gives me room to write jokes.

It gives me room to perform.

It gives me room to sing, create parodies, and explore the strange chain reactions of thoughts that happen inside my own head.

The recent episode about Marco Rubio’s shoes isn’t really about shoes. It’s about the way one observation turns into another, and another, and another. It’s about anxiety. It’s about spiraling thoughts. It’s about how comedy can mirror the strange pathways our brains take when we’re trying to make sense of the world.

Most importantly, I’m having fun.

And fun matters.

There’s a lot of pressure on creators right now to turn every hobby into a business. Every piece of content has to generate revenue. Every project has to have a measurable return on investment. Every creative decision gets filtered through questions about growth, reach, sponsorships, and engagement.

I understand why. The internet is an economy. Content creation is a career.

But I think we’ve lost something in the process.

Not everything needs to be optimized.

Not everything needs to become a side hustle.

Not everything needs to be monetized.

Sometimes art exists because making it helps you process life.

I’ve spent years creating things because they helped me navigate anxiety, trauma, uncertainty, and the general weirdness of being a human being. That’s still why I create. If other people connect with it, that’s wonderful. If they don’t, that’s okay too.

The goal was never universal approval.

The goal was expression.

That’s why this new chapter of Apocalypse…Now? feels important to me. I’m experimenting. I’m trying new things. I’m giving myself permission to make work that reflects who I am instead of what an algorithm might prefer.

Will all of it work?

Probably not.

But creative growth rarely happens when you’re playing it safe.

Right now, I feel like a runner getting back into shape. You don’t start with a marathon. You run a little, walk a little, and gradually build momentum. That’s where I am. I’m finding my rhythm again.

The summer always feels like a creative season for me. The days are longer, the ideas come faster, and the energy feels different. I’m using that momentum to keep building.

That includes new episodes of Apocalypse…Now?, with musical parodies, and my ongoing project, 250 Reasons to Love the USA. At its heart, that project is an exercise in gratitude. In a time when outrage dominates nearly every conversation, I’m interested in asking a different question:

What are we still thankful for?

What is still worth preserving?

What is still worth showing up for?

Those questions feel especially important right now.

If you’ve listened, shared an episode, supported the show on Patreon, or simply stuck around through all the experiments, thank you. Independent creative work can feel lonely sometimes, and knowing there are people out there who continue to show up makes a bigger difference than you probably realize.

The next episode is already in the works.

I’m taking my time with it.

And for the first time in a long time, that feels exactly right.