It doesn't feel like that long ago, but it really was at the beginning of the year, more than six months ago, that something just changed for me. It's a sort of combination of all this political madness, the increasing distance between left and right, the economy that's crashing, a media system that, for the first time in my life, feels completely unprepared for the task. Just not even functional.

All of this would be laughable and deeply ironic if it wasn't so terrifyingly real. Ironic because this is what we were promised. This is the future. This is progress. This is the direction we have chosen. We don't care if people can work or make a living. We don't care if they stay alive, if they stay healthy. We don't care if they go broke. We don't care if they die alone. We don't care that our money largely goes to bomb other people's children on behalf of a country that gets better benefits than we do with American tax dollars.

So all that added up earlier this year to a point where I just felt frozen. I'm not completely surprised by that — that happened a few years ago, where I just couldn't write for a while there.

I often think about my own writing as a form of method art. I'm not putting on a persona like a hat and working through the material. I am emoting in public with written words, and it's not something that just happens.

I am reminded of the Palestinian poet Marwan Makhoul who said:

In order for me to write poetry that isn't political,
I must listen to the birds.
And in order to hear the birds,
The warplanes must be silent.

The world is awash with warplanes right now, along with huge, catastrophic, biblical fires. It's hard. It's difficult to process.

And in a personal sense, that's what takes away from the idea of selling myself as a journalist. At least in my mind, a journalist can snap their fingers and write. The warplanes must be silent — I guess that makes me a poet instead.

But largely, what happens is that I fall into a system of missed deadlines. If you fall behind just a little, then that kind of thing can become a sort of snowball. And that's what happened this year.

Sometimes I look around and I say to myself, "I control maybe five percent of my life." And everything else is prescribed. I don't know why that hurts so much.

Routine is not the enemy.

The truth is that in this country, you need to be a narcissist to actually succeed. You need to be the squeaky wheel, the hungry fish, the eager beaver. The first one there and the last one to leave. And I've said this my whole life — I've got nothing against overachievers. But I know for a fact that there is beautiful art and music and just ideas flowing from the minds of people that are not going to be at the front of that line. They're not going to cheat their way to the top. And if we don't collectively find a way to let those people into the conversation, then we all lose out.

There is so much beauty that is private, that is hidden, that is excluded from the public. In many cases, that makes sense; in some it does not.

But because it's so obvious now that down is up and left is right and strength is power and war is peace, it doesn't feel like the timing is right for anything. Like the whole world is just on some sort of unpaid holiday, waiting around to die.

And it's not easy to be in this position. People naturally find ways to create and enjoy each other and celebrate life. But under such an intense and constant downward pressure from politics writ large, neo-liberalism, economics of the few against the many — not to mention cost of living, inflation, education, healthcare, a shitty job market — it's tough out there. It's really tough out there.

And when I look at it that way, it makes sense I wouldn't write. My blogging comes from a happy place. It is a function of positivity. In a negative world, I will continue to find it hard to be prolific.

What's been taking the place of the writing in recent months has been the radio show. That's been going really well, I really enjoy it, and I'm continuing to find ways to connect my business at KSKQ with the larger CHILLFILTR® footprint. So you'll see different evolutions as time goes on. It's been a much needed learning experience, both in terms of just new challenges, but also the larger goal of developing a listener community for the music I love.

Mine was the last generation to evolve into the music business before social networks were even a thing. So it's natural for me to take the longest to adapt. I just never wanted to feel fake, and I never wanted to feel like I was selling something — not because I have a problem with that, but just because I don't like the juxtaposition of a salesman mindset with what I feel is a deeply personal and artistic, persona-driven type of poetry. It just never worked for me. But having a radio show feels very intimate, and it's the furthest thing from sales. I just like talking about songs.

I'm also publishing each setlist to my new site at weeklycatch.org, which is hosted through Mixcloud. That is a great way to catch up on old episodes.

Beyond that, here's to constructive silence.