gombrowicz would laugh

before we dive into the text, a quick note for my english speaking friends. witold gombrowicz was a titan of 20th century polish literature, a provocateur who obsessed over how we are shaped by others. his masterpiece, ferdydurke 1937, follows a 30 year old man forcibly regressed into childhood by the establishment. from this book comes the concept of "infantilization", originally upupienie, or "bum ification", the act of imposing a mask of immaturity on someone, and the "mug", gęba, the artificial social face or persona we are forced to wear.

i am writing these words to the sounds of the cure’s "staring at the sea." i don’t have a turntable in the office, so a cd is spinning in the player. if you have this album, put it on before you start reading. i think it sets the right mood for this text.

in ferdydurke 1937, gombrowicz made a diagnosis that, nearly a hundred years later, stings just as much as it did on the day it was released. professor pimko’s method of "infantilization" is no longer just a literary metaphor for schoolroom discipline. it is our daily reality. i see it and i hear it. generations, from gen x through millennials and gen z, all the way to the kids of generation alpha, we are collectively infantilized today. not by stagnant social norms, which you could at least pick a fight with, but by algorithms. and there is no arguing with them.

recently, while talking to karo glazer during a dynamite talk on x about geo fencing, we reached the conclusion that even in the dark times of communism, it was "better" in a way because the human factor existed. there was a passport office. there was an official whom you could ultimately bribe or, at the very least, look in the eye. in the digital camps where we have voluntarily let ourselves be locked up, there is no office. there is no human. there is no possibility of "going out on the town."

we are fodder for technological behejtmots, those eerie entities that, under the guise of convenience and the illusion of connectivity, have offshored our agency. byung chul han writes about the "burnout society" and the lack of reflection. it is a state where the fear of the new paralyzes us so much that the only thing we are capable of is the constant "production of the self" in the image and likeness imposed by the machine.

but it isn't entirely hopeless. a few years ago, on the fringes of this digital sewer, a different technology began to sprout. the concept of web3 appeared. for many, it became a tool for escaping degenerated social media and streaming platforms. a mythical place where art, music, and culture at large found fertile ground for a rebirth.

yet, even this garden has been fouled by greed and the desire for quick, easy profit. for years now, the main narrative has been steered by the greedy and the speculators, setting the tone for the entire community. but beneath all that, there is something that is neither good nor evil. a technology with immense potential. when you are hit by algorithms on one side and scammers on the other, what do you do in this "f ed up" situation? you have to choose.

it is easy to disturb the well being of the "algorithmically formatted human", the one suckling at the digital teat of "free" content. just mention this new world, and you’ll see them react with aggression and shouting. because the truth is painful. creators, artists, and musicians are the ones paying for their convenience. the users live at their expense, supporting a system that destroys the very people they claim to enjoy. they defend their comfort and lifestyle, accustomed to ease and passivity. it doesn’t matter that others bear the consequences.

we all live in the church of the holy algorithm, where the universal faith is in "success", destined to arrive via the sacred viral. we lash ourselves daily, producing content for likes. we do it even when we think we aren’t.

we let ourselves be deceived into thinking there is some "now" that we must focus on so we can bounce off it and fly "to the moon!" but there is no "now." the mere act of saying the word moves it into the past. by the time the final breath leaves your lungs, it is already "past ness." you cannot take that word back or pump it back into your chest. it has vanished.

in this absurd "now," we work beyond our strength to satisfy algorithms, thanking chatgpt in the hope that when it takes control, it will be merciful. we spin in circles, and nothing changes. there is nothing to bounce off of.

because you cannot bounce off what has already passed. for something new to arise, we need hope to fill us with courage. we must anchor ourselves in something greater than ourselves. for me, that is God and Jesus. this hope allows me to live more fully and not worry about what others think. you cannot bounce, but you can anchor yourself in that, the one, who is ahead of us. that greater, incomprehensible thing from the land of dreams.

we are blocked by the fear that something might pass us by during this stillness, so we consume everything without restraint until our heads burst. meanwhile, success is hidden in silence, routine, repetition, and contemplation. in poetry, dance, and music. in touch, in presence. in this place, time stops, the compulsion to "do" vanishes, and a peace descends that is almost frightening. no notifications from the "busy world." no shouting. success is silence. success is peace.

ig influencers have already caught on to this. they post photos online of their "offline" lives. the quintessence of illusion.

what does this have to do with music and vinyl? for me, vinyl is a teacher of patience and focus. it is the perfect tool to stop this frantic escape. that’s why i’m telling you. leave your phone in the bathroom and go listen to a record. turn off social media. let yourself be transported to a land where you don’t have to do anything. no doing, no planning, no thinking. see if your imagination still functions at all.

because if that doesn't work, what else is left but to quote gombrowicz?

there is no escape from the mug save into another mug, and from the bum one can only flee into another bum.

is there really no escape from the algorithm, save into another algorithm?

the question today is not whether i will decorate myself with a mug instead of an infantilized persona, or vice versa, but whether i intend to keep playing the game at all. today, listening to music from physical media is jumping out of an algorithmic rocket heading straight for the sun. hopping over to alternative social media is showing a middle finger to the technological behejtmots.

maybe you think i’m exaggerating. maybe you have a completely different perspective, i’d love to hear it. but if you are still reading, thank you. if you’ve made it this far, it means you care, or you’re preparing a sharp retort. both make me happy.