Walter Rhein Podcast
Real person here. I need your support. The robots are trying to take my job, but my work is WAY better! Thanks for being a human being too! Thanks for your support: 30% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/b66e5c2e] š 40% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/01f1b0e8] š 50% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/0d3e6643] š 60% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/6a8f4788] Last week I did something without fully understanding why. I acted on instinct. Some internal part of me screamed, āEnough!ā and set me on a course of action to break me out of a malignant routine. Over the last few months, Iāve been weary. Iāve been manic. Iāve been writing at a breakneck pace. Iāve been conducting interviews for four or five hours a day. Everything is rush, rush, rush. Thereās a sense of urgency and I canāt place the point of origin. But then, out of all the chaos came an impulse to, of all things, listen to the Beatles. I havenāt listened to the Beatles in years. I had a rough childhood, but listening to the Beatles provided some moments of calm. We had the greatest hits albums that come in the blue and red packaging. Those are easy enough to find, but as I reached for the mouse, my body recoiled. Some internal force sent me away from the streaming services. āGet a CD,ā came some disembodied whisper. Iāve listened to that voice before. I found a CD, sent off payment, and the next day it arrived. I went out to the backyard with my CD player and built a fire. I stared at the flames as the music played. Little by little, the displaced, frantic, urgency began to fade. It felt odd to stare at a fire. In many ways, fire seems like staring at a screen. It flickers. It erupts. It dances. As I listened to the Beatles, I found myself remembering what reality felt like. Iād chosen the music. It wasnāt the radio. It had been me. Iād built the fire. I built it with my own hands. It was real. It could burn me. Iād made it. It had been me. An hour later, I emerged a different person. I had a sense of peace that I hadnāt experienced for years. I decided to start pulling back. I cancelled many of my regular appointments. The next day, I got my paddleboard out of storage and went onto the river. In the course of twenty-four hours, I reclaimed two hours of my time, and I havenāt felt this good in years. This is a routine Iāve been following for the last two weeks. Itās a form of mental detox. Your telephone has a feature that lets you know your screen time every week. Iāve been distressed to see my screen time rising. I hadnāt noticed that Iād been using my phone more, yet every week I gave the algorithms a few more minutes. Creep, creep, creep. Every second you spend in that zombie state with your thumb upon the screen, youāre turning over your ability to choose. Thanks for your support: 30% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/b66e5c2e] š 40% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/01f1b0e8] š 50% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/0d3e6643] š 60% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/6a8f4788] Scrolling provides the illusion of a choice. The mechanism is similar to reading. Your eyes go from left to right and then down the page. You think, āIām not engaging, Iām skimming, I wonāt provide my full attention until I get to something good.ā Thatās self-deceit. Thatās how they get you. You see, the awful men that we all hate, control everything. These are the toxic males whose skin is pale from constantly staring at the light of a computer screen. They donāt go out on the river. They donāt paddle. They donāt exercise. The closest they come is playing video games. They hate the real world. They hate fire except for leveraging its power to make the world burn. Whenever you scroll, you hand them the keys to your mind. They burrow in and recklessly labor to make you like them. You see, they control everything. No matter how long you scroll, no matter how many things you flick away with your thumb, the house always wins. Theyāll never show you anything you want to see. They only provide you with trash that benefits them. The other day I reflected on all the old movies Iād like to see which have somehow gone away. They arenāt on any streaming services. I wanted to watch āThe Fisher Kingā with my kids. Where is it? Whereās āJFKā? Whereās āThe Last Valleyā? Why are so many old films unavailable? Do these movies have messages that the tech bros donāt want us to see? Are they waiting for all the old people who remember to quietly fade away? People like me? I donāt want to scroll through titles. I want a spreadsheet. Let me know the films and the names and the dates. I want a feed I can curate. We arenāt given those choices. The tech bros know that if they gave us choice they would surrender control. Control, control, control. Thatās what compelled me to seek outdated technology and sit in the yard to force myself to contemplate tangible reality. They control us through the screens, but we can take back control by turning them off. We are living through an era of recalibration. Social media has poisoned us. Itās a new thing and we didnāt recognize the danger. Itās has leveraged our senses and turned them against us. I grew up in the 70s. Even then we were assailed by loud and obnoxious advertisements on radio and TV. At first, youāre overwhelmed. You feel compelled to rush out and buy every little thing. You need the new toy, the new appliance, the new fashion, the new engagement ring. But at some point, your mind steps in and grabs control of the reigns. Our flight response pays attention to the smashes and the bangs, but when your nervous system determines that there is no risk, the internal volume gets turned down. Today, we can listen to advertisements without even hearing them. Theyāve lost their power. Theyāre more suggestions than commands. We donāt rush to make those purchases. But scrolling is different. It compels us in a way we donāt understand. When you canāt find the movie you want by scrolling, you eventually settle on something the algorithm recommends. Eventually, you stop looking yourself. You just take what they give. Your mind is no longer your own. I didnāt recognize this consciously, but my body did. I purchased a CD. I went outside. I stared into the burning embers. For a long while, some part of me screamed, āGet your phone! Get your phone! This is boring! Think of all the things youāre missing!ā But I stayed. And the annoying voice faded away. I donāt want the stinky toxic male tech bros deciding what I believe. I want to go out on the lake. I want to be strong. I want to feel the sun on my skin. I want to decide what I think. Stop scrolling. Stop giving them your mind. They donāt care about you. They donāt care about what you want. Make deliberate choices, and stop supporting toxic mechanisms that deprive you of yourself. Tell your kids. Tell everyone. Just say āNoā to to the toxic doom scroll. Youāre giving up more than you know. Thanks for your support: 30% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/b66e5c2e] š 40% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/01f1b0e8] š 50% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/0d3e6643] š 60% off [https://walterrhein.substack.com/6a8f4788] I'd Rather Be Writing is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to I'd Rather Be Writing at walterrhein.substack.com/subscribe [https://walterrhein.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]
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