Bobby Miller Time

My 5-year-old son had a winter school performance last year. It was filled with joyful singing, and like the softy I am, I began to tear up. Partly because of the innocent, pure feeling of these coalescing voices, but also because of the realization that I needed to do more to protect their future.

As parents left the auditorium, flooding into the street, smiles and laughter all around me. I was in a deep existential cloud.

As I’ve said many times, most recently in this post discussing my decision to switch to a dumb phone…I now view Big Tech as a threat to our basic humanity.

Companies using my data to flood the internet with AI slop, drain the planet’s resources, kill jobs, and make us all profoundly dumber — that was a bridge too far.

What sort of world was I leaving my son?

And what was I going to do about it?

That same week, I was eating at my favorite Vietnamese restaurant, and there was a copy of Pasadena Weekly, lying on the counter, opened to an article that read:

Data Center Delayed: Monterey Park postpones vote amid opposition

I swear to you this actually happened.

The article was blaring at me.

I had to show up.

As you’ll see in the video above, the vibe was visceral and tense with no words minced.

Except in one moment, where a resident simply played the sound of a data center on her phone. An eerie sound that, if constructed, would haunt the residents.

After that January meeting, more town halls followed, culminating in a vote yesterday.

Over 86% of residents voted to ban data centers in Monterey Park…forever.

I’m not a resident and had no vote in the manner.

But I want to believe that showing up to those early meetings and showing up for my neighbors did something to help.

If anything, seeing that many people rise up gave me hope for the future.

And maybe that’s enough.

It was raining in Los Angeles, and the cafe I usually stop in before work was closed. I’ve carved out an hour of writing before work every day, and I was determined not to miss a day. So I hunkered down in my car and wrote in the rain.

There are so many terrible things in this world. So many things that cause me anxiety. But, for that hour every day, no force can touch me. The only news that concerns me for this one hour is the news in this little corner of the world that I’m creating. The only doomscrolling is the hell I’m putting my main character through.

For years, I would lament that I only had an hour a day to write. But that feeling has slipped by me. Instead, I look forward to this one hour, and because I have no distractions, I truly feel alive to possibilities. I’ve always rolled my eyes when writers say “the characters were telling me what to write”, but sometimes, sometimes, it does feel like that.

You read something back, and you wonder who wrote that?

Where did that come from?

It’s exciting to feel like a stranger to yourself.

Driving into work after my one-hour sojourn, I’m sometimes swirling with emotions. Music overtakes me. Grief. Happiness. Melancholy. A song can knock me off kilter. I feel raw and alive.

These extreme emotions are things I’ve felt my entire life. It’s always been coupled with the desire to transmute those swirling feelings into something worth reading. Something worth a damn. That endless chase to connect with another human being, even if it’s for a laugh.

Writing is hard, they say.

How do you find an audience, they say.

How do you make a living?

Yes, yes, yes, but also:

Is it not wonderful?

In the age of AI doom and gloom, let’s not forget the feeling that passes through you as you struggle with the words, trying to get them to align into some sort of shape. Some sort of human feeling to pass to another human being. One more time, this time with feeling, one more day, one foot in front of the other. And you’re off off and away.

Get my book signed and personalized, and save a few bucks! Purchase here.

Today I talk with my youngest podcast guest about a certain nightmare featuring the Minions.

To go along with this audio post, please enjoy these drawings:

Above: A minion.

Above: Rando drawing from school.

Sincerely,

Daddy Miller Dot Com

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Justin Johnson is a longtime friend and filmmaker who made the excellent doc, “Mom & Dad’s Nipple Factory.” Earlier this year, he got brain surgery…while being completely awake. I spoke to him several months later. And oh yeah, we call back a spammer.

Bobby’s Commute is a call-in show recorded exclusively in a car…while trapped in rush hour traffic in Los Angeles, CA.

Is the male loneliness epidemic a real thing? How do I make friends as an adult? Are AI bots the answer? Also! The movie Weapons and Sam Altman’s plan for our future. VFX Artist Eric Levy joins me!

Bobby’s Commute is a call-in show recorded exclusively in a car…while trapped in rush hour traffic in Los Angeles, CA.

Should I see the Oasis reunion? Artist Philip Vose joins me, and I call some randos for advice.

Bobby’s Commute is a call-in show recorded exclusively in a car…while trapped in rush hour traffic in Los Angeles, CA.

More at: www.BobbyMillerTime.com

Get yours at: SituationNowhere.com

Music is “Sudden Storm” by Ezra Furman.

Hello friends,

First off, I hear you.

What the hell is a book trailer?

Well. Picture a movie trailer…but y’know for a book.

Listen. It’s a thing people do.

The trailer contains clips from films that have inspired SITUATION NOWHERE. I also shot a couple things for the opening that set up the world of the book.

Can you spot all the films I used in this thing?

It was a lot of work, okay?

Thanks for reading Bobby Miller Time! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Finally. The definitive true Hollywood story behind Critters Attack! From tight deadlines to explosive diarrhea, this commentary track will largely go down as one of the most important recordings of our lifetime.

Thanks for reading Bobby Miller Time! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.