February 16, 2026
I did write Thursday. I just didn’t make any artwork. No pictures. No new visuals. Reused old art and moved on.
That’s probably part of whatever shift I’m in right now.
Thursday was Steve’s Hot Dogs. Solid night. Just work. Sunday was Golden Hoosier. Tried some stuff. Some landed. Some didn’t. That’s the reps.
Sunday was a good day though. I had lunch with Joe between the gym and Golden Hoosier. Then today he came by the office to see me. I don’t care why. If I get to see Joe, I’m good.
Heavy Anchor tonight was different.
I was 24th on the list. Sat there for over two hours. By the time I went up, there were three people left.
Three.
And I made them laugh.
That’s enough.
But the set isn’t what stuck with me.
On the drive home I passed Golden Hoosier. Bud’s. A couple other neighborhood bars. And I remembered how packed those places used to be when I was a kid. When I was in my twenties. Always alive. Always loud. Always somebody’s dream running on fumes and hope.
And tonight it hit differently.
These bars. These restaurants. These corner spots.
They’re people’s dreams.
Not corporations. Not committees. Not some faceless machine.
Somebody mortgaged their house. Risked everything. Put their family on the line. Carries that pressure every single day.
If we lose those places, we lose Main Street.
If we lose Main Street, we lose something bigger than a bar.
We lose the American dream.
I don’t care what side you’re on politically. That part doesn’t apply here.
If Main Street dies, culture thins out. Rooms disappear. Conversations disappear. Dreams shrink.
I love the internet. It built my businesses. It’s my ecosystem. But total dependence on digital middlemen is dangerous.
Every time you buy something online because it’s easier — even when the maker sells it directly — you feed the machine.
Amazon is often just a middleman.
And we handed them the keys.
That doesn’t mean burn it down. It means wake up.
Go to your local bars.
Go to local restaurants.
Go to local coffee shops.
Buy from small business owners.
Support your friends when they build something.
Be intentional.
Running a business you love — one that feeds your family and maybe other families — while constantly wondering if it will survive financially is one of the heaviest weights a person can carry.
I know that weight.
And I don’t think we respect it enough.
Tonight at Heavy Anchor there was a guy at the door trying to get in. Homeless. Cold. The bartender protecting the room. Nobody evil. Nobody cleanly right or wrong. Just tension.
These places are fragile ecosystems.
And they deserve more than indifference.
I used to care about local businesses because I needed places to belong.
Now I care because I understand what it feels like to protect a dream.
We’re in a strange moment. Commerce shifting. Trust shifting. Technology accelerating. Talent moving fast. Nobody really knows what’s next.
If someone tells you they do, they’re guessing.
We could go a hundred directions.
Some great.
Some bad.
But if we stop showing up locally, if we stop protecting the dreams right in front of us, we hollow ourselves out.
We don’t need permission to fix that.
We just need to participate.
Get out. Go places. Spend money intentionally. Build something. Gather.
That’s how we take our power back.
I don’t know exactly what’s next.
But if we keep showing up for each other, we’ll be okay.
Worst things have happened.
We recover.
We rebuild.
We move forward.
I love you.
