Spoke to an old acquaintance today through Instagram, after she showed a Facebook Page message in excess of eight hundred missives. I told her to turn messages off on Pages, but, really, I just had a reaction similar to survivor’s guilt. More than eight hundred messages unread. Ten percent of that velocity is comprised of dick pics.

On Saturday I had three emails and three newsletters. Three responses to a photo I posted on my private Instagram. One Twitter DM. Three Snapchat photos. Spent the day preparing smoothie packs, grappling with a writing problem, cooking dinner for me and the kid, watching a little tv.

People spent twenty-odd years building this amazing machine. Sometimes I wonder if it won’t take more than another twenty years to fix it.

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