Backstage w/ Matt Stone

Welcome to March 2nd—somehow it feels like December was two minutes ago, but here we are with 17 days until spring. Matt’s two days into a new tradition (which is, as he jokes, a very long time): morning walks before doing anything else. Just 10-20 minutes outside, slowly sipping coffee instead of chugging it, feeling more awake from a little sunlight and movement. After years in Tokyo where 10,000 steps was the daily minimum, he’s realizing he needs to walk more—especially working long days split between Manhattan and New Jersey.

But here’s what sparked the walks: over a week of intermittent fasting made zero discernible difference on the scale. None. And his eating was moderate and good. Frustrating? Absolutely. Discouraging? For sure. But instead of going extreme (like not eating for three days), he’s shifting focus from outcomes to habits and behaviors. The routine, the healthy patterns—those are paramount right now. Stressing about results, forcing things to happen, taking extreme measures—that just creates extreme snapbacks. So the new approach: focus on the joy and benefit in the moment, set an intention, point his brain at it, and trust the behaviors that will get there in the long run. Progress on the business front too—website refined over the weekend, getting closer and closer. One day at a time.

Twenty days until spring, snow still in the forecast, and Matt’s counting down relentlessly without apology. After some trivia about the first Mardi Gras in New Orleans (1827) and 16-year-old Tiger Woods teeing off in 1992 (a reminder of how fast time moves), he shares what finally clicked this week. After a brutal anxiety-filled night during the blizzard — the kind that takes you from a 9 out of 10 to barely manageable — he got back into action Monday and dropped to a 2 or 3. Normal operating anxiety.

Then he heard Arthur C. Brooks, a Harvard professor who studies happiness, say something that put it all into words: “Anxiety is fear unfocused.” When you’re not focused on doing something — a plan, a checklist, the next right thing — fear gets to graze in the field and gain power. But when you’re tending the field (or working the stage, to match his business), there’s no room for it. The key isn’t control, it’s focus. Deciding what to focus on, letting the rest go, and creating a pathway for hope through action. Also, he made huge progress on his messaging last night — not alone, but by calling a respected friend who gave him brilliant perspective. So the question: Who can you reach out to today who will keep you focused and out of negative states?

Three weeks until spring, the snow is struggling to hold on, and Matt’s reflecting on Michael Jackson’s Thriller hitting #1 on this day in 1983—a time when everybody listened to the same thing and had a common reference point. But today’s real topic hits closer to home: he’s been doing intermittent fasting for a week, and the scale hasn’t budged. Not even a little. Between cortisol from stress, 12-14 hour workdays, and other factors, the quick results aren’t coming. But here’s the thing—that doesn’t mean you quit.

This is about playing the long game: practicing discipline for the sake of discipline, collecting data, observing, and making adjustments without being too drastic. Sometimes your body (or business, or life) doesn’t cooperate on your schedule. After a month, if nothing changes, investigate further. But a week? That’s just the beginning. And speaking of perspective: when someone asked when he started his new venture, Matt realized “The Bigger Stage” brand came to life on January 30th. Less than a month ago. He’s been moving fast—maybe too fast to notice the progress. That’s why he does this daily reflection: to watch his own perspective, verbalize it, and hopefully help you with yours. Because keeping perspective consistent as life happens? That’s the hardest work of all.

It’s Wednesday, February 25th, snow piles are blocking half of Hoboken, and Matt’s about to deliver a global masterclass that didn’t exist a few weeks ago. After some trivia about George Washington’s first cabinet meeting (1793) and the first railroad tunnel under the Hudson River (1908), he shares what happened when he realized his old presentation materials wouldn’t work for his new venture. He was starting from zero, staring at a blank page—or more accurately, a blank space in his head.

Here’s the pattern he’s noticed every single time: It starts with a prompt. What do I want to share? What experience do I want people to have? What’s the message in my head and my heart? (That’s the apex—timely, genuine, and useful.) Then comes the hard part: letting go. For a couple weeks, nothing concrete came—just fragments. But because he planted the prompt, his brain kept seeking the answer. Through client conversations, networking, and business interactions, the idea crystallized piece by piece until one day, about five days ago, he knew: That’s it. Forcing creativity doesn’t work. But pointing your brain in the right direction and trusting it to deliver? That’s magic. So the question: What’s one thing you could prompt your brain on today that will produce fruit later?

Three weeks until spring, snow piles everywhere, and Matt’s running late because he just had a powerful meeting with a colleague he meets weekly. Midway through their conversation, the colleague told a story Matt had heard months ago—but this time, because they’ve built real depth, Matt heard it completely differently. He dove deeper instead of stopping him, and the story revealed new meaning. That’s the power of choosing quality over volume in relationships, especially as networking opportunities multiply.

But here’s what really landed today: action soothes anxiety. After a semi-sleepless night of rumination and fear-based thinking (he was honest about being in a foul mood yesterday), Matt realized the pattern. Productive weekends are great, but idle time creates danger when you’re building something from scratch. The mental game is everything, and entrepreneurship isn’t for the faint of heart—it can feel like being out in the wilderness sometimes. So the question he leaves you with: What can you do today to manage your mental garden? Pull some weeds, plant better vegetables. Even if it’s just for today.

New Jersey just declared its first state of emergency for a blizzard in 30 years, snow is driving sideways, and Matt’s grateful for power, food, and the plow operators working nonstop. After some Tootsie Roll trivia (debuted 1896), he gets real: he’s in that familiar phase where the new venture has started, but self-doubt hits hard—especially at 3 AM. Living with near-term financial uncertainty hits the system deeply, even when you know logically that things are moving forward.

But while prepping for a talk on trust in the age of AI, a Warren Buffett quote reframed everything: “If you get to my age in life and nobody thinks well of you, I don’t care how big your bank account is, your life is a disaster.”

Scaling trust isn’t about proving reliability—that’s baseline. The real differentiator? Love. Your AI tool will never love you. The love of another human being is uniquely human, and that’s our competitive advantage in this era. So the question: How are you going to infuse more love into your business?

It’s raining again, the last ounces of snow are clinging on for dear life, and Matt missed yesterday’s episode because the day got completely out of hand. After some space-themed trivia—Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake premiered in 1877, John Glenn orbited Earth in 1962, and the USSR launched the Mir Space Station in 1986—he settles into what’s really on his mind as we knock on March’s door: the emotional journey of the past year and what it takes to recover from a brutal season.

Last year forced him to choose between completely remaking his previous business or letting it go entirely, and the gap between knowing what he needed to do and actually doing it was costly. The chronic stress of managing multiple organizations doesn’t just disappear on January 1st, even with a promising new venture. What he’s realizing now is the danger isn’t the anxiety itself—it’s the mindset that can harden around it. When your internal narrative defaults to “I’ll never...” or “this will never happen,” that’s the sign of a mindset problem, not just a practical one. So this weekend, he’s taking inventory: where to pivot, where to double down, who to reach out to for help, and most importantly, how to pressure test the ideas that might be calcifying around certain challenges. Because acknowledging stress without feeding it means staying open to solutions that feel impossible—until they’re not.

It’s raining in the Northeast for the first time this season, and while Matt’s wife is less than thrilled, the Oregonian in him finds it oddly comforting. After dropping some trivia about the Statue of Liberty’s design patent (1879) and the first coiled postage stamps (1908), he dives into an idea that’s been brewing: the Studio Creator Experience. Picture this — business owners gathering at a NYC studio for a party that’s also a quick-hit workshop on storytelling, body language, and speaking on camera, followed by actual studio recording time plus professional photography. Assets, networking, learning, and joy all in one night.

But here’s where it gets interesting: Matt’s inviting listeners to help shape the idea and share their own. He’s proposing to turn Substack into a cyber mastermind where people post their unrealized dreams and ideas — for business, for life — and ask for feedback from a community that wouldn’t have otherwise met. He’s modeling it first, then wants you to comment. The goal? Creating a loop where ideas get better through collective input. Because if there’s one thing he’s committed to this year, it’s curating joyful experiences — not frivolous fun, but the kind of deep enjoyment that makes the work matter even more.

Thirty days until spring, the snow is melting like a slow hourglass, and Matt’s got sardines on his mind — a Christmas gift from a relative that’s been sitting there daring him to crack it open with some saltines. After a quick detour through the first submarine to sink a warship (1864, for the history buffs), he gets to what’s really occupying his headspace this Tuesday.

Six weeks into the new year, Matt’s zeroing in on a tension every entrepreneur knows too well: the pull between survival mode — just making money, saying yes to everything — and the discipline of building something scalable. The trap is that day-to-day expedient decisions can quietly set you off course from where you actually want to go, creating what he calls your own “mind and money tomb.” The antidote? Keeping the vision of scalability front and center, trusting the process, and staying intentional even when the answers aren’t fully clear yet. A day full of networking and human connection ahead — making a path, as he puts it, for the miracle to happen.

It’s President’s Day, there’s a fresh dusting of snow, and Matt’s watching the great melt of 2026 continue as those disgusting piles of hard-packed ice get smaller each day. After some trivia about the Canadian Pacific Railway and Ladies Home Journal launching in the 1880s, he shares what happened on Saturday: his brain just... stopped. Not burned out, not consciously aware of needing rest—just that feeling of a toddler sitting down in the middle of the street, refusing to budge. Sometimes the gym fixes it. Saturday? Not even close.

The culprit? Cranking the mind nonstop on a new venture, long days of solving problems, decision fatigue piling up with tax season looming. The big learning: he doesn’t have to solve everything today. Prioritize a couple things, let tomorrow handle the rest, and accept smaller wins instead of forcing breakthrough moments through sheer mental effort. He’s excited about potential new projects—maybe an audio book, touring a studio, building relationships with media production resources around NYC—but the real work is narrowing his message and audience without draining himself dry. Also, nearly 7,000 downloads and growing steadily? That’s inspiring. And a reminder: you’re not alone in any of this.