Ever since I was a small child, I get very grumpy when I am sleep-deprived.  My brothers would tease me about how angry I would get after about 8 PM, which usually just made me angrier.

As an adult, sleep deprivation tends to make me grumpy and nihilistic.  It’s not a good combination, and I struggle at times with despair (a terrible sin, because it fundamentally fails to place faith in God and His Provision) as it is.  Combine extreme exhaustion with a bad, or even just particularly stressful, day, and I can be downright insufferable.

Such was the case last Friday, 6 October 2023.  It was perfect storm of a day:  I released a new album to Bandcamp, which saw me awake at 3 AM to publish for Bandcamp Friday; I had to build out an entire pep band setup for a school pep rally in about forty-five minutes; and I had myriad Homecoming day responsibilities, including sound checking the choir (they sang the National Anthem Friday evening) and calling the game.  It all meant a long, exhausting day, one that left me drained mentally, physically, and spiritually.

I’d made a deal with my school regarding the release of Spooky Season II: Rise of the Cryptids:  I’d donate between ten-to-thirty percent of my gross sales on Friday, 6 October 2023 to the school if they’d push a link to the album via their extensive e-mail list.  I figured that with hundreds of people seeing the link and knowing it was for a good cause, I’d get a dozen or so sales, at least, and could make a decent donation out of the proceeds, while still enjoying a minor windfall for yours portly.

That was not the case.  I made one full discography sale of $21 to a parent through that link.  Every other sale was either family family or friends that I contacted directly.  When it was all said and done, I grossed $102, and decided to donate $50 to the school’s music program instead of the proposed 10%, as a donation of $10.20 would have been pathetic.

To say I was discouraged would be an understatement (and that’s not meant to sound ungrateful; I really appreciate the folks who took the time to purchase some digital tunes).  By the end of Friday—exhausted, stressed, and disappointed—I was ready to give it all up.  No more composing, no more songwriting, no more blogging, no more painting (well, I’m a pretty poor painter, so that wouldn’t be a big loss).  I even began composing my farewell blog post in my head.

Then I slept.  I went to the movies Saturday afternoon, then slept some more.  My entire outlook on life changed.  From cursing my failure as a musician and writer, I began contemplating my next projects and releases.

To be clear, I am still somewhat disappointed by Friday’s performance, even though it was the second best day I’ve had on Bandcamp ever (I’ve been selling on Bandcamp since October 2011, but did not make a single sale until April 2020—almost nine years).  Several folks who’d pledged support disappeared on the day.  Plays shot up, but weren’t converting into sales (a common phenomenon).  It made me question a.) why I try putting this material out there and b.) if I am even good at what I am doing.

It did clarify some things for me, though.  I may need to shutter the blog.  Music has always been a slog, but one that I love.  Composing is in my blood, and even if I write some garbage sometimes, I enjoy the process.  I’ve also enjoyed some marginal success—or, at the very least, the least amount of failure—with music compared to my other literary and artistic endeavors.

The blog, on the other hand, has been in decline for awhile, and I’ve known it has.  I’m not able to commit the time to it that it deserves, but even if I did, the returns from it—never substantial—have only diminished over time.  Viewers are way down, and even paid subscribers don’t seem to be reading the premium content.  I can tell that I’ve let the quality suffer somewhat.

I’ve also moved away from the fiery polemics of the early years of this blog.  I just don’t have it in me.  I’ll be writing a post soon about the Five Stages of Grief, and how I increasingly feel as though I have entered the “Acceptance” phase when it comes to our national life and politics.  The Old America is dead, and I’m done mourning its loss.  The great, adrenaline-pumping writing of the past represented the denial and anger phases.  We’ve reached such an absurd point in our national life—a senile geriatric president; a borderline ‘tard US Senator from Pennsylvania; weird sexual perversions flourishing among the elites—there’s no bargaining or grappling with it.  Just gotta embrace the absurdity and live life.

But we’ll see.  I’ll at least take this bad boy through the end of the year.  Maybe things will turn around.  Whenever I’ve contemplated giving up on the old girl in the past, some post will magically take flight.  Maybe I’ll attract some readers to breathe fresh life into this decadent, swollen corpse.

As jaded as the tone of this post might seem, I’m actually in good spirits.  Sleep solves a lot of problems.

Maybe if we sleep long enough, we’ll hibernate to a better tomorrow.