Over the past couple of months, I’ve become increasingly aware that I just…do not…care…about what’s being presented as The Internet these days. I’d bought into the whole thing: the platforms, how to use them, how to accumulate numbers that translate first into dopamine hits, then into influence (maybe), and then (supposedly) into something that resembles or supports an income-producing creative endeavor (perhaaaps…ehhhh?). Not that I was particularly good at doing any of those things, mind you. But it’s becoming clear to me that no, it’s not that I’m old and in the way…or not entirely, anyway. The whole game really is a bit vacuous, vapid, and pointless, yet the incessant chorus of voices in the arts and publishing insists otherwise. I’m realizing that I do not, in fact, want to be the sort of person who’s really good at playing it, and I’m tired of being told I have to if I want my work out in the world. There’s got to be something else.
Your snippet: “…strip away…the baroque and falsified quantifiers of social capital littering the web” really resonates.
This is a good day, now.
