Disconnections

Coming up on my next extended retreat from the public internet.  CASTLEVANIA goes live on July 7, and I will do my bit, as writer and co-producer, to cross-promote it.  On July 8 I pull the plug.  I will keep most of my bots running, because they circulate arts and information and I still believe that all good things should flow into the boulevard.  In Craig Mod’s new newsletter, which everyone should be subscribed to, he notes:

I have thoughts swirling around on: media and network disconnection, the Detox Period, hyper-presence

As do I, but I have found that I don’t have the time to develop them, these days.  Despite what – and this still tickles me – what Greg Borenstein called my “freakish parallel processing habits.”   Which he suspects are an “adaptive mutation.”  (Sorry, Greg, but it cracks me up every time I think of it.)

I don’t digitally-detox, not until such time as the notifications are deafening.  I recently noted that, in one moment, my phone received so many simultaneous notifications that the stress of trying to play all the different alert sounds at once sent my phone into a seizure it took a reboot to recover from.  Work went fully supersonic mad this year, and that’s what my days sound like now.  And even on those moment, I just turn the volume down, really, and go to very selective filters.

But actually engaging and talking on the public internet?  That does pull focus, and it does eat braincycles.  I am a thousand ears and a million eyes, but I’ve only got the one voice.  I will connect and speak in private, and all people will see are the product of my labour and the strange little rocks I pull from the streams.

Drop me a note or a DM.  What can I do for you?

 

(I did, however, amuse myself on an unwell and insomniac night by reconstituting my LinkedIn page, of all things, so, you know, I’m full of shit and need to go away just to think about what I’ve done.)

Just bought: THE FORCE, Don Winslow (UK) (US)