I haven't really felt anything for a while, I mean I get excited about "things" but it rarely lasts beyond the glance of my initial euphoric attention, and ultimately it means nothing. I wonder if growing old is the process of the river slowly running dry, I'm sure that I was once fuelled by more than reaction alone, here is your single of the week:

LUH - 'Lost Under Heaven'

It's easy to feel alone. They've made it easier to feel alone. Isolation is a part of your everyday life. You don't need to leave your house, for anything, but the door of your prison is always ajar. You don't need to talk to anyone IRL, for anything, digital communication has become the illusion of walking out through that open door. It has replaced the pause for breath with a web of paranoia, the overwhelming nature implied by everything that you cannot see, as you wait patiently for a response. They've replaced our value system. Curling lips and rising cheeks have been replaced by button taps, the warm validation that once accompanied something so simple as a nod of recognition, has long since disappeared from our lives. Subsequently our broadcasts have become smoothed out, redefined within the coded language of our approved peers, the individual search for originality has rendered us all the same. Your life is not your own. Your life must be shared with the corporations that own the means of communication. You cannot opt out. The isolation that devices and platforms bring with them as weight is nothing compared to the perceived silence of leaving them behind.

It's easy to feel isolated. As I type this I check my feeds. As I eat I check my feeds. As I drive, as I watch films, as I listen to music, in between paragraphs of great literature, as I walk through areas of outstanding natural beauty, as I shit, as I talk to strangers, as my friends talk amongst themselves, as my parents tell me the stories of my heritage. I check my feeds and nothing changes but the urge to take part, useless as all beautiful things happen regardless, yet still swollen with the urge to actively participate in the illusion of communication. The lines of silk that make my web, that hold me from the world are sold to me as the idea of freedom itself. They sell me my perception, not reality.

It's easy to forget what's real. It's easy to lose track, neck stiff from looking down at the blue screen, of what is right in front of your eyes. It's easy to lose yourself in the whirlwind of internets, falling down rabbit holes until you've consumed the nuance of each and every subtweet, until you can categorically say one way or the other and forget about it altogether.

It's not real, you can't hold it, and it won't keep you warm. They say the grass is always greener on the other side, but you have to water your own grass for it to grow green at all, staring longingly into the distance will not help your cause.

In this climate of jealousy driven isolation, from a fear of missing out, from a desire to keep up, in a bid to simply know all the names that our peers discuss and never present a puzzled face, we've lost track of the point.

Music and art have become consumable reference points for anyone browsing the web presence of your personal brand, please tick the box to show your peers that you're a connoisseur of underground Peruvian disco from 1975-83. We've stopped dwelling and reflecting on art, it has become a disposable commodity that doesn't have time to sink below surface level, just another thing with potential to make us feel alive in our oppressive society that has been nullified.

It's easy to feel small, like a powerless piece of cog meat in a giant machine, when our devices pump massive insurmountable issues into our bedrooms. We close our curtains to the world, to the warmth of actual human kindness outside our windows, but in our darkened rooms we continue to pipe the agendas of global media magnates directly into our brains. We are being slowly weathered into a rabbit in headlights, terrified of the oncoming car, ignorant to everything but the road. Adam Gnade said "Friends don't let friends wilt away on the internet. Friends open doors and say, 'Hey, you wanna get out of here?'"

Hey, you wanna get out of here?

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Lost Under Heaven are giving away this song in three parts as a free bit torrent bundle. They announced it by writing this. It's been so long since I felt inspired.