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In this episode of From78, I reflect on how place and technology shape the way we experience time and connection. Recording from my office before a day of clinical work, I think about the privilege of listening, the importance of “regular” places where relationships once accumulated, and how those spaces seem increasingly rare.
Rather than simply criticizing technology, I explore a more balanced view—drawing on Marc Weidenbaum’s idea of being “digitally cozy”: staying engaged with books, walks, art, meals, and family while dialing back the constant churn of short-term online conversations.
I also reflect on how meaningful relationships can form entirely through technologically mediated means, setting the stage for an upcoming interview that continues this conversation.
Creators and Guests
What is From78?
From78 is a podcast about people in time.
The host is a dude who was born in 1978, who is literally From78. On the show, From78 talks to people who are older, young, or about the same age as he is about what the past and the future as they experience is. Topics discussed include: Hauntology, technology, politics, theory, art, culture, theology, and a wide range of other sundry things and stuff.
Along with these discussions, there are occasional audio-essays about what it is like to be From78 in the here and now.
This is From78, which is a podcast about the subjective experience of time. This is episode number 27, and I’m sitting in my office right now. Later on today, patients are going to be coming in here to talk to me about a variety of different things going on in their lives, which I really look forward to.
I like being a psychoanalyst a lot—having people come in, sit down, lie down, and talk, and getting to listen to them talk about their lives. This may sound cliché, and maybe it is, but I think it’s a pretty big privilege to be able to sit in the position I sit in: to simply listen to people talk about their lives. It’s a privilege economically, socially, and in all sorts of other ways.
Beyond that, though, I’m noticing in this moment how much of a privilege it feels like to be trusted by people in the way I think I am trusted by those who come to see me. That’s really nice. It’s one of those things I just noticed in this moment—I wasn’t thinking about it a moment ago. It came into my head as I sat down here and started the beginning-of-the-podcast thing that I do. It just happened. A kind of cool, pleasant subjective experience of time.
But that’s not really the point of the show today.
Today, what I want to do is continue thinking about and examining the idea of place. This has been a topic that has come up in a number of recent episodes of this podcast.
Last time I was in your ears, I shared something I read in an email newsletter by Craig Mod. You can go back and listen to that episode if you haven’t already. By way of review, Craig was talking about specific places he had been and describing what made them unique and special. One of the things he identified was that these were places where people didn’t bury themselves in screens. They didn’t go somewhere, open a laptop, take out an iPad or phone, and sit there among other people while staring at a screen.
Instead, these were places people went to listen to music, to eat food, or simply to be there. I compared this to places from my own life that I used to go to regularly. One of the reasons I went to those places was that, if I stayed long enough, inevitably someone I knew—sometimes well, sometimes only a little—would show up. And usually it would be someone I wanted to talk to.
Going to these places, becoming a regular, and using them as gathering points meant that connections formed. Conversations happened, and those conversations accumulated. Over time, you got to know people, and you became known by them. I find myself sometimes longing for that—wondering whether places like that still exist, how common they are, and what their density might be now.
This question keeps rattling around in my head. I don’t know exactly why it feels so important to me, but it does. It shows up again and again in the background noise of my thoughts. I keep returning to the question of how place affects connection, and how connection affects the way we subjectively experience time.
Today, though, I want to do something that some people might find annoying. I want to do a little bit of “both-sides-ing” here. I don’t want to say that technology just sucks, that it’s destroying the social fabric of our lives, or that everything was better before we had it. I don’t want to be that curmudgeonly guy—though I might slip into that sometimes despite myself.
So instead, I want to share something else I found online. This comes from disquiet.com, a wonderful website—especially if you’re into ambient, noise, or post-classical music. It’s written by Marc Weidenbaum, who has been running the site for a very long time. His taste in music aligns closely with mine, and I’ve discovered a lot of great work through him.
Every year, usually starting sometime after Thanksgiving and running into the new year, Marc takes a step back from digital life. Not completely—he still checks email, still reads, still engages—but he dials it back significantly. What I appreciate is that he doesn’t present this as a heroic or morally superior act. It’s just a choice he makes.
Here’s the passage I want to read:
“Life is inherently digital these days, so it’s not like I’ve turned off my computers, unplugged the television, or put my phone in a safe. I make no claims to using my devices significantly less often. I’m not really concerned about the extent to which I use personal technology. I already read a lot of books. I already go for walks. I go to concerts and spend time at museums. I have meals with friends. I spend much of my non-work hours with family.
In other words, the main break I take at the end of the year is from digital connection to other people. Even then, I’m still checking email. I still work. I vaguely respond to DMs. But because I’ve turned off social media, I may go missing for extended periods of time. What I am turning down, if not off, is the number of conversations—especially the explicitly short-term ones inherent in social media—that I participate in.
I will almost certainly re-up come January. For now, the respite is first and foremost cozy—digitally cozy.”
I really like that way of thinking about it. Technology isn’t inherently bad. It can make life more convenient and, in many ways, better. But it’s probably worth being aware of how much we’re using it and what effects that use has on other parts of our lives.
If technology is preventing you from going for walks, going to museums, or having meals with friends and family, that’s probably something worth taking a look at. At the same time, it’s clearly possible to use technology and not have it consume every moment of your life.
That’s not always easy. Using technology can feel addictive. I often have the sense that I should stop reading emails or articles and go do something else—but I don’t. That’s on me. It’s my choice.
People talk a lot about algorithms hijacking dopamine systems, and there’s probably some truth to that. But it’s also important to remember that we still have the capacity to make choices about how we use our time, even when it’s not frictionless or easy.
I wanted to talk about this because it also sets something up. I recently sat down to interview a friend of mine named Jason. We met because he had a podcast I listened to. I emailed him, he responded, he started listening to my work, and over time a real friendship formed.
We’ve never been in the same physical place. But we know each other’s lives. We talk regularly. That matters. It’s a reminder that the place-based relationships I’ve been talking about aren’t the only way connection happens. Technology can mediate real relationships too.
That interview is coming soon, and this episode—and the previous one—help set the stage for it.
That’s all I have for today. Thank you for taking the time to listen. It’s a real privilege to be in your ears. I hope that comes through.
Until next time, I hope you have fun doing the things you do, that you make glorious mistakes, and that your lives are going really, really well. Take care.