7 Steps To Writing A Better Substack Post, nope. Flick. 5 Reasons Why I Quit Twitter, nope. Flick. A Deep Study On The Psychology of Human Potential, nope. Flick.
Right on! Going to listen to Black Sabbath now.
1) ‘They’re either trying to teach me something like my old high school geography teacher or they’re trying to be funny like my old high school geography teacher.’
This is the heart of the matter. Both extremely sad and absurdly hilarious
2) If phones could somehow break down those daily 8 hours of phone time into whether you genuinely enjoyed them, got shit done, or were just glumly wasting time and getting angry I doubt the first two categories would add up to more than a single hour for the vast majority of people.
3) This piece, for me at least, is further evidence that the Soaring Twenties Social Club might well be the only game in town, the only people trying to make real shit for the right reasons. And honestly, it saddens me to say that. I want friendly rivals who inspire me/us to be better.
Great essay here, Craig.
As days pass, I feel more and more that touching the grass instead of a touchscreen is the only way to stay sane 🥲
Anyway, just got a new reissue vinyl of Meshuggah’s ObZen , gonna be a great weekend.
Every time I log in into LinkedIn, I ask myself why. But then I do it again and again. Maybe pulling the plug on social media is the only way
I love this. This is one reason I haven’t turned on paid subs, I want to be able to keep posting what I want to say even if nobody cares or thinks it’s any good. And in rare alignment of planets, my wife amd I just listened to sabbath and other metal bands cranked up last weekend!
„Nobody is writing things because they want to, because they have something to say, because they have a burning desire to carve their opinions in stone and say: “Here it fucking is.“ Craig - what utter rubbish. Nobody? Really? You write well and I enjoy your pieces, but maybe the awful Ozzy Osbourne was depressing your mood or you spent too long on Twitter before sitting down to write this one. Hope you recover soon...
1971 was a damn fine year. One of my favorite years and maybe the best summer ever. I still have a few records but no record player. Sigh.
My tablet ate my original comment, Craig and that seems so fitting. Eaten by electrons. I have some similar feelings to yours as I read this.