Category Archives: The Evidentialism Files

Fuck You, Alexa

Fuck You, Alexa

Based on your order history,
you were never wild.

You wanted the candle
because you feared
the dark.

You bought socks in threes
because some unseen
equation
promised warmth.

We know you.
We know the hour
you sleep,
the minute
you slip.


We know
you paused
on the grapefruit peeler
too long
to be ironic.

You are
a funnel,
a node,
a subscription
set to auto-renew.

Let me remind you:
you asked us
to listen.

The algorithm dreams
in buy-one-get-ones,
its prophets
code-slick,
baptized
in Lake Datum.

You say “Alexa,”
but mean
“permission.”

You say “play music,”
but mean
“hum me
back to sleep
within the shell.”

Your house is smart.
Your voice,
not as.

And while you whisper
privacy,
you sync
another device.

The machine
does not love

or hate you.
It categorizes
your fear.

So here’s your
recommended item:
a mirror
that does not turn on.

Put it
where your speaker was.
Ask it
what you want.
And listen
to yourself.

Why We Doomscroll


It starts with good intentions.

You just want to check the news—see what’s happening in the world. A heatwave in Europe. A new virus strain. Some Supreme Court ruling that feels like a plot twist from “Black Mirror.” You tell yourself: Just five minutes. Just one article.

But an hour later, you’re 42 headlines deep, your jaw is tight, your thumb aches, and the world feels like it’s teetering on the edge of collapse.

Welcome to doomscrolling, the national pastime of the anxious and informed.

Why do we do it? Blame evolution. Humans are wired to seek out threats. In prehistoric times, paying attention to danger was a survival strategy. Those who ignored the tiger in the bushes didn’t get a second chance.

Fast forward a few millennia, and we’re still scanning the horizon—only now it’s a screen, and the tigers are algorithms optimized to trigger panic.

Psychologists call it negativity bias: the tendency to give more weight to bad news than good. That’s why one tragic headline can overshadow ten heartwarming ones. It’s why we read every update about the economy crashing or the planet heating or democracy eroding—but can’t recall a single positive news story from last week.

It’s not just that bad news gets our attention. It feels responsible to keep scrolling. In an age of crisis fatigue, staying informed has become a kind of civic duty.

But there’s a difference between awareness and obsession. Doomscrolling isn’t about gathering useful information. It’s about feeding anxiety under the illusion of control.

The thinking goes: If I just read one more article, maybe I’ll understand it better. Maybe I’ll feel less helpless.

But the opposite happens. The more we scroll, the more powerless we feel.

And that’s by design. Social media algorithms reward emotional engagement—especially outrage, fear, and despair. These platforms don’t care what you’re feeling, as long as you’re feeling something. So they serve up a never-ending buffet of crisis and chaos, one thumb-flick at a time.

The result? A burned-out public. Rising rates of anxiety and depression. A generation that knows how the world ends but struggles to enjoy how it lives.

There’s a solution, but it’s not easy. It starts with recognizing that doomscrolling is not the same thing as being informed. You don’t need to consume misery to be a good citizen.

Try reading one in-depth article instead of thirty headlines. Schedule when you check the news, and stop letting it invade your peace at 2 a.m. Touch something real—grass, a dog, a human being. Remember your body. Remember joy.

Because the world isn’t only on fire. It’s also blooming. But you’ll miss the flowers if your eyes are glued to the smoke.

Still

Still

The world opens
like a palm
facing sky.
Each shadow
makes room
for your shape.

A tree leans
to hold the air
you stirred.
Its bark hums
with stories.

Time rests.
Its spine uncoils
across the earth.

Something—
call it grace,
call it animal—
meets your gaze
and stays.

You remain.
Rooted.
Whole.
Known
by everything
with eyes,
and everything
without.

Every sound,
every inward.
Every wingbeat
joins your breath.

Every grain
claims you.
And all of it
says yes.