I watched it last night, and I’m watching it again with my teen tonight.
I deleted the Instagram app off my phone 2 weeks ago, feeling strange after realising that the unique barrage-set of ads being pushed at me were for me alone. That no one else was being offered these ads in this order. That the suggested accounts being pushed at me were a combination unique to me. That I was scrolling more and more through ads and that they were catching my attention, soaking up my time despite my being aware of the model of money-making going on. Despite my trying to scroll past and ignore. These seconds being eaten away, added up to minutes and would add up to hours and days of my life. Simply scrolling scrolling scrolling. I deleted, feeling like it was the right thing to do in that moment, feeling like my happiness was being sucked at by an invisible vampire. I still have that FOMO sickness. Early days. I’ve got two new books to read. I wish you all a good weekend, and week ahead.
P.s. The grey walls are now officially a temporary midway state to the perfect writing room colour scheme.
I’m not sure I want to become addicted to jigsaw puzzles during the remainder of lockdown, which is just as well, as there seems to be a world shortage at the moment. I have been enjoying revisiting Brighton Rock. Pinkie is even worse than I remember him. And I understand Rose even less. If I could type on a jigsaw puzzle, I would
Normally I would browse second hand books for blackout poetry. Retyping the text out of necessity makes me think I should always do it this way from now on. I hope this is a way back into writing, a way to climb out of the lockdown brain fog pit
Tiny teddy and I working through the dreaded writer’s block together. This little chap and his bedding I made for my daughter out of scraps, the typewriter is fimo, bamboo skewer, and wire.
Kick starting being creatively different can be challenging in itself. I overtly resist this advice of the cards …
This is one of my train books. I’m halfway through and it’s taking me a while because I can’t take it all in all in one go. The author is a recovered alcoholic and so knows what addiction, and getting the better of it is like. We’re all addicted to something and the range of this book is wide. It’s not easy reading. It’s not easy to look your addiction in the face and deal with it. This is not a How To book, it just talks about what addiction is, how the brain works and the author’s own conclusion that addiction is a choice. I tend to agree there, but the variables and complications from person to person are probably infinite.
This book sat on my shelf for over six months before I dared start to read it. There are so many books on addiction and specifically internet related addiction available it’s just about impossible to know where to let your hand come to a rest on the shelves of the bookshop. I picked up a few last winter and flicked through to get a feel for the style of writing. Probably not surprising that I chose this one in the end as the author is a journalist and is wily in his style. He pulls you in with anecdotal material and then hits you with the heavy stuff. But it’s worth reading if you’re at ALL concerned that you need to get on top of whatever it is that’s fucking up your life.
Knowledge is Power.
Happy New Year!