The Zone is Flooded
Writer's block in the digi†al age
Here I am writing on this keyboard that is typing strange characters without my consent. It is also, as you can ßee, inserting spaces between letters where there should not be spaces. Almost like the keyboard is possessed, it makes typing emails, copy into layout design, etc. very difficult and above all else, highly annoying!
I have updated my OS which took a thousand years, read some Reddit threads and implemented those fixes, checked my Language settings and nothing seems t be working. So as a last resort, I have ordered a new Apple Magic Keyboard off Amazon for same-day delivery.
With †he Sequoia OS update came Apple's version of AI so now in åddition to all †he other obnoxious little "fixes" I have AI nonstop ßuggesting to me what to type, when and where †o type it, and I'm constantly clicking out. Enough!!
I can’t help but notice the parallels between this modern technological inconvenience and my recent paralysis around writing in general.
Lightly keeping up with the diabolical fire hose of daily information while also taking time to rest in turn shifts the vibe to something resembling the attempt to type a cohesive sentence riddled with wingdings out of your control.
This, as we know, is “by design.”
They say in times like these it is important to keep writing, keep making art. There was a Substack I received that outlined this concept so brilliantly. But I get so many Substacks lately that I read it, didn’t flag it, and now it’s off to sea in the abyss of the “Everything Else” tab of my inbox.
The general gist was that in revolution art is important, all kinds of art. Connection is important. Conversation is important, idea sharing, admittance of vulnerability (I made that up). As my friend Callia’s mom says, “The names have changed, but the work remains the same.” Gotta come back to the work.
Another Substack I enjoyed recently was obviously Miranda July’s Last Friday, Saturday and Sunday:
I think I have read and reread this particular one from her so much because of the matter-of-fact recording of her day. There is something so soothing about hearing about someone else’s routine without a cross-†oting dingbat interrupting it. I am going to write a MIPBE in this format soon. Not today, though.
Today I am going to make a dirty martini and continue to encourage my subconscious artist self to acclimate to the new reality of living in America in 2025. This will be hard (read: probably impossible) for it to do. I might wake up (again) tomorrow morning later than intended with my fist clenched. But then I will *write* my Morning Pages, drink my coffee, and try again on my new Magic Keyboard.
Miranda ♥️