It's fascinating how you connect the sensory experience of a physical space—the warm shale stone, the talcum powder beaches, the smell of glue or plastic—with the intangible feeling of an online platform. This makes me think about how our brains construct "place," not just from what we see or touch, but from the emotional and psychological textures we encounter. Substack, in your description, isn't just a website; it's a multi-sensory mental landscape, imbued with the quiet comfort of your coffee and wine, the purring cat, and the gentle serendipity of discovery.
Perhaps the profound "at homeness" you feel on Substack isn't just about content, but about the absence of sensory overload and social pressure that often accompanies digital interaction. It's a space where the usual digital cacophony is muted, allowing for a different kind of presence—a more internal, reflective presence that mimics the quietude of reading a beloved book in a cozy nook. It suggests that true digital comfort might lie not in hyper-connectivity, but in thoughtful, curated disengagement from the overwhelming aspects of the internet.
Substack doesn't necessarily feel like home to me, but it does feel homey.
I’m so sorry to hear this. Perhaps you’ve stumbled into a corner of Stacklandia that is more in your face than where I wander…
If you click on any of the links in my essay you will find good people who are excellent writers and have no need to ever be pushy about anything. Most of them have extremely high readership already. They are just, quite simply, my friends.
I don’t know if you’ve tried this or not,, but for awhile (like a week or so) I looked thru my notes section and muted or blocked everyone who’s content was not to my taste, or too political, or if they were pushy people. It made a complete difference in what I see in my notes feed. (For the better) anyone who’s post makes you feel that way is probably worth waving ‘bye’ to.
A perfect metaphor, and so beautifully captured, I smiled and breathed more deeply as I wandered the aisles of your prose. This space has become one of my most cherished pass times too Teyani.
One thing about you, my friend, you do love metaphors ... Thank you for sharing these thoughts with us, and in them these beautiful pieces. Substack does feel like home. It's not perfect, but it's the best place for reading, writing, and decent conversations. Thank you for being one of those who make it so.
It's fascinating how you connect the sensory experience of a physical space—the warm shale stone, the talcum powder beaches, the smell of glue or plastic—with the intangible feeling of an online platform. This makes me think about how our brains construct "place," not just from what we see or touch, but from the emotional and psychological textures we encounter. Substack, in your description, isn't just a website; it's a multi-sensory mental landscape, imbued with the quiet comfort of your coffee and wine, the purring cat, and the gentle serendipity of discovery.
Perhaps the profound "at homeness" you feel on Substack isn't just about content, but about the absence of sensory overload and social pressure that often accompanies digital interaction. It's a space where the usual digital cacophony is muted, allowing for a different kind of presence—a more internal, reflective presence that mimics the quietude of reading a beloved book in a cozy nook. It suggests that true digital comfort might lie not in hyper-connectivity, but in thoughtful, curated disengagement from the overwhelming aspects of the internet.
Substack doesn't necessarily feel like home to me, but it does feel homey.
Thank you for this deep reflection Alexander. It’s lovely.
Unfortunately, I just see Substack as a crowd of shouting voices yelling “Read me! Not them! Read MEEE!”
A cacophony that is forcing me away….
I’m so sorry to hear this. Perhaps you’ve stumbled into a corner of Stacklandia that is more in your face than where I wander…
If you click on any of the links in my essay you will find good people who are excellent writers and have no need to ever be pushy about anything. Most of them have extremely high readership already. They are just, quite simply, my friends.
I don’t know if you’ve tried this or not,, but for awhile (like a week or so) I looked thru my notes section and muted or blocked everyone who’s content was not to my taste, or too political, or if they were pushy people. It made a complete difference in what I see in my notes feed. (For the better) anyone who’s post makes you feel that way is probably worth waving ‘bye’ to.
This is quite simply … pleasure. Thank you and hugs.
You’re most welcome my friend.
A most lovely poem. Thank you T. 🙏
I’m so glad that it rang true for you Dee.
A perfect metaphor, and so beautifully captured, I smiled and breathed more deeply as I wandered the aisles of your prose. This space has become one of my most cherished pass times too Teyani.
Thank you Kimberly. I’ve met the coolest people here with SO much talent - like Yours❣️
Lawd, thank you for bringing this into my journey.
Awww. Thanks Paul! I appreciate your kind words.
One thing about you, my friend, you do love metaphors ... Thank you for sharing these thoughts with us, and in them these beautiful pieces. Substack does feel like home. It's not perfect, but it's the best place for reading, writing, and decent conversations. Thank you for being one of those who make it so.
Thank you, my friend, as well for your kind words.