I Don’t Know What’s Next — And That’s Okay
Four years is a long time to talk into a microphone.
Especially when you consider that when I started Diary of a Bald Man, I really didn’t know exactly where the hell it was going.
Over those four years, we talked about damn near everything.
Safety. Life. Relationships. Getting older. Mental health. Travel. Work. Interviews with some incredible people. Stupid shit I’ve done. Stupid shit other people have done. And every once in a while, something came out of my mouth that might have actually been useful.
Somewhere along the way, this little podcast made it into the People’s Choice Podcast Awards multiple times, reaching the Top 10 when nominated in Society & Culture.
There were months when hundreds of emails came in.
Some of you told me what you loved.
Some told me what you hated.
You suggested topics, guests, changes, music, and ideas. Sometimes you didn’t want anything from me at all—you just wanted to tell me your story.
And I enjoyed the hell out of it.
But Something Changed
Over the past several months, the number of people listening has dropped considerably.
That’s part of creating something publicly. Audiences change. Interests change. People move on.
Creators change too.
What bothered me wasn’t simply watching a number on a screen get smaller.
It was realizing that I had started feeling obligated to make another production simply because it was time to make another production.
Wednesday is coming.
Better record something.
Need thirty minutes.
Better find something to talk about.
And eventually I had to ask myself:
What the hell am I doing?
That wasn’t why I started Diary of a Bald Man.
I started because I had something I wanted to say.
There’s a tremendous difference between figuring out what you want to say next and worrying about what you need to say next.
You Can't Make Chicken Pot Pie Out of Ground Beef and Crackers
This was probably the simplest way I could explain it on the episode.
If somebody asks me to make a chicken pot pie but all I’ve got in the kitchen is ground beef and crackers, I can probably make something.
But I’m sure as hell not going to tell you it’s chicken pot pie.
That’s where I’ve found myself creatively.
I could keep producing episodes.
I could stretch an idea.
Add some music.
Find another segment.
Turn ten good minutes into thirty acceptable ones.
But why?
You gave me your time for four years.
I respect that time too much to fill it simply because I have a microphone and a release schedule.
So I’m putting the microphone down for a while.
I'm Not Going Anywhere
This isn’t some dramatic farewell.
I’m not deleting everything, throwing the microphone into the yard, shaving my head—well, that one’s pretty much already taken care of—or disappearing into the mountains.
I’m simply redirecting some energy.
I want to get back into print.
I want to write.
I want to create when there’s actually something inside me asking to be created.
Maybe Diary of a Bald Man eventually returns to the microphone.
Maybe it comes back differently.
Maybe something completely new grows out of this.
I don’t know.
And for once, I’m perfectly comfortable saying:
I don’t know.
There’s something freeing about that.
You Became Part of the Diary
There is one thing I absolutely do know.
I’m grateful.
If you downloaded an episode, thank you.
If you shared one, thank you.
If you sent me an email telling me you loved something, thank you.
If you sent me an email telling me I was completely full of shit, thank you too.
If you came onto the show as a guest, shared your experience, trusted me with something personal, suggested a topic, laughed with me, disagreed with me, or simply spent thirty minutes driving down the road listening to some bald guy trying to figure this shit out right alongside everybody else—
thank you.
You weren’t just listeners.
You became part of the diary.
Four years.
A lot of stories.
A lot of laughter.
Some tears.
A few things I’m genuinely proud of.
And probably several things I should have kept to myself.
That’s a pretty damn good run.
So I’m not writing THE END at the bottom of this page.
I’m just putting down the microphone for a minute.
Because sometimes the best thing you can do for something you love is stop forcing it to become something it isn’t.
The microphone will still be here.
So will the Diary.
And so will this bald man.
We’ll see what happens next.
Until then—
Stay safe.
Stay bald.
Stay honest.
And as always…
Onward and upward.
