words.

  • unfucking the internet #1: pay artists

    The internet isn’t in a great spot right now. Everywhere you turn, it is being used to radicalize, advertise, and retain user attention by any means possible, regardless if the design patterns are healthy for users.

    In the 2000s, we thought the internet was going to expand our relationships and our connection to our interests, and for a while, it did. MySpace. Nex. MSN Messenger. And others seemed centred around connecting us.

    Something along the way got broken, though. Applications turned from serving their users to serving shareholders and advertisers. Users became a metric to be optimized and manipulated for as much profit as possible under the guise of providing a service.

    This is uhhhh… not good for us as the people who use the internet.

    It means always feeling like we don’t have enough time each day (because we are spending mindless hours online), like our lives are not going well in comparison (our feeds, just like everyone else’s, are hella curated) and costing us a decent amount each month (Until recently I was spending $180 a month on subscriptions).

    There are countless reasons why this sucks beyond those listed above, but I don’t really have time to get into them. What I do have time for is an honest attempt to reclaim my time online and maybe a little bit of money. Even if I don’t save money, I would like to have more of it go to the people I actually want to support.

    So here goes. Let’s Unfuck The Internet.

    This is my personal attempt to try and walk the walk. Take back my time, relationships, and money from people who do not have my interests in mind.

    This is a pretty massive task, as I am pretty steeped in an internet I don’t like. My productivity tools are heavily Google-ified. My media is mostly Netflix and other streaming subscriptions. I watch endless hours of YouTube. Worst yet, embarrassingly enough, I unironically love Instagram, and I haven’t read a small blog in years. Ya, I am deep in it.

    So, I got my work cut out for me.

    I got to break this down into steps. The first service on the chopping block is Spotify. This one is actually going to be fairly easy (I think).

    When replacing a bad habit (if you’re going to be successful), you should have a good one to replace it with. So, this substitution is going to be two-fold.

    First off, I am going to prioritize buying (and streaming) music from Bandcamp. Tapes and Vinyl when it’s worth it, and digital versions when I don’t want to fork out for a physical copy.

    Then I can import my new shiny mp3s into iTunes/Apple Music and listen from there.

    Why am I starting with Spotify? I think the last album I knew front to back was just before streaming became how most people listened to music. I want that back. I want to feel connected to the music I listen to.

    Also, as a musician, I know how terrible streaming has been for artists. It’s basically robbery that you have to consent to. If you want your favourite artists to continue to make music, pay them.

    So that’s step one. Step two is not to renew my yearly subscription to Spotify next year and go all in.

    When I feel I got a hold of this. I’ll make another switch. Probably bailing on Facebook Marketplace and buying used goods on Craigslist instead. We will see.

    Wish me luck.

  • in defense of hoarding dvds

    While streaming services allow for exploration, I think there is something special about a personal collection.

    When I was younger, I remember visiting friends’ houses, digging through their DVD collections and finding something to watch together. How excited they were to share their favs.

    There was joy in having friends (and obscure websites) be the keepers of media. There was something human behind it.

    I’m considering going back to this. Even digitally.

    There is a certain level of privilege to being able to afford to buy media. No judgment. ymmv.

  • go ride a bike.

    go ride a bike. explore the city. slowly. learn its secrets, whispered in alleyways and carved into its bumpy backstreets. ride beneath the canopy of trees on 10th street that cool you in the heat and dampen the rain before it soaks through your shoes.

    go ride a bike. listen to the sounds of children laughing. to waves crash against the seawall. to the water beneath your wheels. to your breath. to your body.

    go ride a bike. join this city’s symphony playing slightly out of tune. move through it, become its chorus, as the gridlocked mute the world around them.