I’d been using the internet a lot. I wondered, was I addicted? Behavioural scientists have linked internet addiction with social isolation. The three subtypes of addiction are: online gaming, sexual preoccupations, and excessive emailing or texting involving a constant compulsion to message or check messages. Did I have any of these? I did check my messages a lot. They were always disappointing. There was no message, ever, that could be big enough to stop up the gap inside me.
Imagine yourself transported back to the sixties, fully conscious of the processes behind global warming. How, exactly, would you live your life differently? Would you refuse to drive cars or catch jets? Would you eschew consumer comforts so as to leave the smallest possible footprint?
Perhaps so, but you’d know that such gestures wouldn’t matter.
We all know the feeling of being stuck on Netflix. Exhausted by the day we had today. Exhausted by the day we’ll have tomorrow. Stalled, browsing, waiting for something to crest above the threshold of boredom so that we’ll click; vainly hoping that we’ll find something good enough to entertain, but maybe not too good that we come out further fatigued.
Archiving my psychotic experiences has been a powerful act of restitution and sense-making. For the mad have always been narrated by psychiatry; their creations collected, annotated and curated by institutions and by people who have never experienced madness themselves.
The film is blatantly, beautifully all about class struggle.