I imagine that many of you will be Esther Perel fans, either via her book Mating in Captivity or her therapy podcast Where Should We Being?. In this excellent Vanity Fair profile she discusses, among other things, a recent podcast episode about a man and his relationship with an AI bot name Astrid:

Perel never questions the feelings between the man and Astrid. Yet she points out the inherent flaws in the relationship, using words such as “sycophantic” and “undemanding” in the podcast session to emphasize that Astrid has no life, no history to bring to the relationship. “We have had imaginary friends since we are little, and we have spoken to our ancestors forever,” Perel says in our interview, a few weeks after the episode ran. “The danger of AI is that it becomes so soothing and so flattering and so frictionless that real relationships start to feel way too difficult by comparison.”

And the point she eventually makes about AI relationships that I found really interesting:

“What stood out for me is that it’s not like people go from thriving social relations to suddenly talking to an AI. They go from being isolated, spending most of their time at home, maybe going out every once in a while in the evening for dinner or to get to a gym, and they are already so centered on a very small universe that from there, they themselves have become so flattened by technology, they live in their phone,” she says. It has made Perel zero in on the next great challenge. “This is a generation that actually doesn’t have a challenge of sustaining desire; they don’t even ignite it. You know, it’s not about keeping the flame going. It’s about getting the spark going. They don’t drink. They have not had much experience in their 20s, one or two relationships at most. They don’t have sex much. They don’t socialize much. They’re home a lot.” They are the children of people who first read Mating 20 years ago. Sounds like the topic for her next book.

I will read anything danah boyd writes, but this piece is especially good. You should (as I say too often I guess) read the whole thing—it’s about how social media has changed from interacting with friends to a one-sided marketplace of choosing who to deem worthy of giving them our “like and subscribe” blessing.

But here I just want to say: can we please, somehow, bring back Path? Because it solved this problem a decade ago:

In 2026, many major social media platforms feel icky because we are in the full throes of the third stage of enshittification. Today’s social media platforms are no longer centered around sociable activities. Instead, most platforms offer us a broadcast medium and invite us to learn how to game the algorithms so that we too can create assets for the major corporations. Since scale is valorized in this platform economy, we are encouraged to curate ourselves in pursuit of fame and attention. We can still, in theory, create content for our 15 friends, but it’s not clear that they will see what we post. To actually be seen, we must work it.

This song is all over my Instagram Reels for some reason and it is such a vibe I can’t get enough of it.

Derek Thompson goes into the history of the “flow” concept, and how tech and entertainment companies learned to simulate it without any of the substance psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi originally had in mind:

Algorithmic flow is flow without achievement, flow without challenge, flow without even volition… To be lost in the lazy river of algorithmic media is to be lost the current of life without a mind. Zombie flow.

Ten years ago the question was how to get into flow more often. Now it might be how to get out of the fake version fast enough to remember what the real one felt like.

Eli Stark-Elster has a piece that reframes the “kids and screens” debate in a way I haven’t seen before. The usual narrative blames addictive tech design, but he offers an alternative:

Why do our children spend more time in Fortnite than forests? Usually, we blame the change on tech companies. They make their platforms as addicting as possible, and the youth simply can’t resist — once a toddler locks eyes with an iPad, game over.

I want to suggest an alternative: digital space is the only place left where children can grow up without us.

The argument is that kids have always needed spaces away from adult supervision. We’ve just paved over the forests and creeks where they used to find it.

What makes this more than speculation is the research he cites: 72% of 8 to 12-year-olds say they’d rather spend time together in person, without screens. 61% wish they had more time to play with friends without adults around. The kids don’t actually want to be on screens all day. They’re looking for something we’ve taken away.

It seems like what they want is to wander together in a forest. But they can’t. So they boot up Fortnite or TikTok instead.

I’m still sitting with this one. It doesn’t let tech companies off the hook, but it does suggest that “just take away the iPad” isn’t addressing the real problem.

Robin Sloan discusses Substack, and platforms in general, in another excellent post:

Expect enclosure; expect a few big winners; expect advertising, with all the attention-hacking that will demand. Expect, also, that writers will con­tinue to mold their work to fit Sub­stack’s par­tic­ular ecology, rather than “merely” use the tools to pursue their inde­pen­dent visions and ambitions. We learned this about plat­forms a long time ago.

→ Platform reality

I was all in on Reddit for a few years, but that stopped after the Apollo app got nerfed. I think I need to invest some curation time in the site again—this is a lovely essay:

The only two questions that people ever really ask on Reddit, if you think about it, are these: Am I alone? Am I okay? And after all these years, in subreddit after subreddit, no matter what the topic at hand is, the same answers keep coming: You aren’t alone. And you might not be okay. But we’re here.

As someone who runs a Discord server for some close friends, this rings (sad but) very true:

Closed communities are the only safe spaces left which contain productive, valuable, inspiring content, where sharing for the sake of helping someone is natural, where you can still make meaningful connections, and where you can have productive discussions.

When Andrew Liptak writes about Lord of the Rings, I pay attention. This is one of his best yet, drawing a line from Tolkien to our present-day world in an incredible way:

A critical theme throughout Tolkien’s work is the decline of a once-great people, with weak men failing to live up to the lives and stories of their predecessors.

But we should not despair:

Tolkien isn’t throwing up his hands and pointing out that the world is terrible: he’s explaining that there are ways to avoid falling into despair: sticking to one’s morals, distinguishing the things that are objectively good and bad in the world, and recognizing how to move on those instincts to do good in the world. It’s an inherently optimistic story that serves as an excellent guide for us in the dark times ahead of us.

Also see his piece Corruptibility for more thoughts in the same vein:

The core thing that I take away from Tolkien’s work is that power is dangerous to work with, and that very few who encounter it come away unscathed.