How to survive being online
This week’s question comes to us anonymously:
How do we survive being online?
Erika and I bought a radio.
For as long as I remember, my day would start by waking up, going into the kitchen, making coffee, putting on the news, and then getting on social media. By the time coffee was ready I’d be freaked out about something. By the time Erika woke up I’d be freaked out about at least five different things. If she woke up first, the scene would play out the same, with the roles flipped.
A couple of weeks ago I woke up, walked into the kitchen and there was a song playing. It was pleasant and vaguely familiar, but I hadn’t had my coffee yet so I couldn’t quite place it. As I filled my cup the song ends and an actual radio DJ said “That was The Cocteau Twins and you’re listening to KEXP.”
“What the fuck is this?”
“It’s a radio station out of Seattle. It’s pretty good.”
We spent the rest of the morning listening to the radio and trying to see who could guess the songs quicker. A week later we decided to get an actual radio, instead of casting the app to our apple speaker, because we wanted the joy of letting the radio be the radio. We both grew up listening to the radio.
I still remember my first cheap little transistor radio. It had a single ear bud. I’d clip it to my belt and listen to Richie Ashburn and Harry Kalas announcing Phillies games while I did my paper route. The Phillies weren’t very good back then, and the paper route sucked, but having that connection to another world in my ear was nice. The transistor radio was eventually replaced by a walkman, the single ear bud was replaced by orange foam headsets, and with stereo came music. And that was nice too.
All of this also took me back to a time when news was delivered to your door once a day by some dumb kid listening to a Phillies game on a cheap transistor radio, or delivered to you on the evening news, weekly magazines, or some AM station in your car.
And no, this isn’t some diatribe about the “good old days” because they were emphatically not good old days. Both in large systemics way, but also in very personal ways.
I was raised by a sociopathic narcissist, and “raised” is the most questionable word in that sentence. My father acted out, he behaved badly, he demanded to be the center of a universe he would never contribute to. My childhood was violent. Safety was never a given, it had to be created, and hidden in places where neither he nor my mother could find it. I found it outside. I found it in libraries. I found it in little cheap transistor radios.
For a narcissistic sociopath, attention is oxygen. And there’s no difference between good attention and bad. They live for your reaction and they will get progressively more erratic to keep that attention coming. So every time you react, they know it’s working. Their goal is to be on stage. Their demand is that you be their audience.
I survived my father by avoiding him, hiding from him, and finding spaces where I felt safer. And I owe a giant debt to every teacher, librarian, neighbor, and friend who helped me with that.
When I see Donald Trump I see my father. When I hear Donald Trump I hear my father. (He would appreciate this comparison.) I see and hear a man who will do and say anything to get your attention. I see and hear a man who would (and will) hurt people to keep the stage light focused on him.
The only way to defeat a narcissistic sociopath is to starve them. Protect yourself from their bullshit, of course, but move away from it. Let them have their stage, but refuse to be their audience.
This isn’t easy. It’s especially difficult because capitalism is an attention economy. The New York Times and The Washington Post love a narcissistic sociopath because they generate clicks and clicks sell ads. Social media loves a narcissistic sociopath for the same reason, but it’s even worse. On social media, we’re the ones carrying their water. Trump says something that he knows will get him attention (i.e. renaming the Gulf of Mexico) and not only does it fire up hundreds of media outlets, who now divert attention to this idiocy, but it also fires up tons of people like me and you, who end up reposting his garbage. Some of us because we feel like we’re media outlets (we’re not), some of us because we’re freaked out and freaking other people out justifies our own freak-out, and some of us because we were once bitten by a narcissistic sociopath under a full moon and we want to generate some of those sweet sweet likes in our direction.
The first four years of Donald Trump was a continuous panic attack. I’m not going through that again. You don’t have to either. They’re on stage, but you don’t have to be their audience.
Am I telling you to bury your head in the sand? Far from it. I am telling you to moderate your exposure to the bullshit. Your retweet or reskeet or repost is not going to save democracy. Your hot take on some idiot’s confirmation hearing is, at most, freaking out your friends. And if you want to remain on social media, as I will be, do your best to separate the signal from the noise. Follow people who are engaged in your community, follow people who are engaged in helping others, follow people who are posting pictures of their new puppy because puppies are awesome, follow artists making cool weird shit, follow people who are creating new stages. Stages where you are welcome. Stages built on love and kindness and inclusion. Stages where the audience can take a turn getting up there as well and tell their story. And yes, follow some trusted news sources, and double check their shit with a second news source.
But the people spreading panic to generate attention for themselves? Be they elected idiots, or oligarchs, or regular folks like me and you—block at will.
Sometimes you gotta listen to the radio and trust the DJ.
❤️
☠️ RIP David Lynch
🎉 A lot of folks are new here this week, since I got off Instagram and pointed folks here. Fuck Mark Zuckerberg. Welcome new people. Here’s what to expect. Once a week, you get an email. There’s a piece of art at the top (sometimes it’s in progress). There’s an answer to someone’s question in the middle. (The art and the Q&A almost never have anything to do with one another.) And there are random thoughts and links at the bottom. (Like this.) You’re caught up.
🙋♀️ Got a question you want me to answer? Ask it! Please, I need more questions.
📻 Here’s that link to KEXP you were hoping for. It’s a seriously good station!
📚 Wanna buy some books? There’s a secret new one in there that I’ll promote to the general public next week. Shh.
📔 My friend Milly also got off Instagram last week and moved her book reviews (did you know there were book reviews on Instagram? Well, not anymore.) to a newsletter that you should subscribe to.
🍉 I am happy we have a ceasefire. My fingers are tentatively crossed. AND the children of Palestine still very much need your help.
🚰 I am always happy to hear from readers. If this newsletter hit you in the right way, don’t hesitate to let me know.