How often do I say that, lately? Seems like a lot… I am reminded that the “enshittification” of the internet is a real thing, and not just “the internet”, but a lot of services, apps, media, seach tools, and things that rely on such things seem to be suffering from a very real process of degradation over time (and more so recently). I could more politely (and possibly more clearly) refer to the phenomenon as “platform decay”. From Wikipedia’s article, it is described thusly;

…the term used to describe the pattern in which online products and services decline in quality over time. Initially, vendors create high-quality offerings to attract users, then they degrade those offerings to better serve business customers, and finally degrade their services to users and business customers to maximize profits for shareholders.

Yeah. That’s a thing, for sure. Welcome to Capitalism, y’all – where we put profit over product quality, and people, in order to extract maximum “value” for a handful of already-wealthy shareholders. Gross. We could do so much better. What can I do about it? Maybe there’s real value in using some of these garbage apps a whole lot less in favor of more real-world experiences in the real world? Real life seems somewhat less prone to rapid enshittification… not entirely immune admittedly, but the odds of having a good experience seem a little better. Bound books. Pen and paper. Walks in the forest, and along the beach or marsh. Conversations with friends. I don’t know – I definitely don’t have all the answers, just some thoughts on other things to do with my time. This may be relevant. (The irony of suggesting online content is not lost on me. You could read this instead, but maybe buy it from a local book store, eh?) When was the last time you went into the world to enjoy the hunt for some specific thing in real places? I know, I know, super inconvenient, and so time-consuming! Only… It’s your life. Are you living it – or are you just scrolling through the minutes waiting to die while some app harvests the data from your likes, clicks, and views?

…I “throw the alogorithm a curve ball” and put on music I don’t usually listen to…

I smile at the thought that when I am out on the trail, the things I like are not visible to an alogrithm. When I see the world through my own eyes, my “views” aren’t recorded anywhere. When I turn my attention from one thing to another out in the world, alive, alone with myself, there are no “clicks” that can be captured – I’m just a human, being human. I enjoy that. When I pick up a book in a bookstore, and read the back cover and flip through the pages, no data is recorded about how long my eyes lingered on the words. When I share conversation with a friend or colleague, using my actual voice, in a real place, it’s ours – and there is no financial benefit to be gained for the shareholder class. I like that.

There’s a price to be paid for convenience – whether we see it coming out of our bank account or not. Are you prepared to pay that price? (Am I?) It’s something to think about. It’s the 21st century – what do you want out of your experience? What paths do you want open for your children?

I sigh to myself, and sip my coffee. Here, now, it’s just me and this moment – but I find myself yearning for a typewriter that isn’t connected to the internet, and a medium of communication that isn’t digital. Convenient for us both that we’re here, now, in this digital place… but at what cost? What price are we paying for this “convenience”? Is it worth it? I’m not monetizing this content – but you can bet someone is, in some way. (Why are we not being paid for our data? Can someone explain to me why, if it has such value, we aren’t being paid real money for the data about us being collected every day? “Basic income” isn’t a handout in the digital age; it is a potential means of compensating us for our data – maybe it’s time we took that step?)

I think again about long-time plans to publish some of this work in a more durable medium; a bound book. I smile to myself. There are verbs involved, and it’s just daydreaming until I am prepared to make a clear plan, apply the will to connect that plan to action – and do the verbs. But… what is lost if this whole thing were to come crashing down? Am I prepared to see it just… gone? I sit with my thoughts awhile longer.

…What will I do about it, when I begin again?