As a younger man, I loved wearing black. Lots of it. I’ve (literally) lightened up since then.
Reclaiming My Life in a Relentless News Cycle
This post is part of The Dispatch, my weekly newsletter that includes weekend recommendations for listening, viewing, reading, and more. Subscribe. It’s free.
Technology has blown up my news consumption from a twice- or thrice-daily ritual into a relentless avalanche of 24/7 updates that can leave me overwhelmed, anxious, and exhausted. Studies show that excessive news consumption can lead to elevated stress and sleep disruption. No shit. Now more than ever, I’m working toward ways to stay informed without losing my goddamn mind.
Digital Boundaries: Reclaiming Control
The first step is all about boundaries. My general addiction to my iPhone (which is basically a prosthesis, at this point) coupled with the constant pressure to surf the up-to-the minute outrage wave is an unsustainable combination. I was starting to feel obliged to pay attention to every news alert, but I had to break the cycle. I’m learning to give it a glance and let it go. I’ve done a big audit of the notification settings across my devices and turned off any non-essential alerts. The idea is to put space between me and the reactive cycle of consuming information as it arrives (and the need to immediately post about it on social media). I’m not in the news business, and no one is dying to hear my completely non-essential hot take on what just happened.
My big news gathering time happens during my first hour or so in the morning. NPR’s Up First podcast, the local public radio’s morning news podcast, then the daily emails from The New York Times, The Guardian, The Wall Street Journal, Financial Times, Associated Press, New York Magazine, The Atlantic, and The New Yorker. Then, when I walk the dog, I listen to new episodes of podcasts I like, like Pivot, The Prof G Pod, The Daily, and The Bulwark.
When I’m working during the day, I don’t lean into the news. The soundtrack is instrumental music, like classical, film scores, or instrumental jazz. Something conducive to focus. (Anything with lyrics, including opera, is too distracting.) My work day isn’t a total news blackout, but I keep my exposure very limited. I might glance at the screen when I see an alert, but I won’t tap to read it.
When I take work breaks, I’ll sometimes engage with news on social media, where I try to make my scrolling deliberate rather than passive. On Bluesky, for example, I created a sub-list of trusted news sources, which cuts through a lot of clutter. Much of what gets pushed out to us is designed to provoke a reaction and get a click, a view, or a listen. The longer I’m in this game, the less I indulge that impulse.
On weekends, I’ve made good progress in limiting news consumption and leaning more into magazine fare, like Air Mail, WSJ, Sunday Times, FT Weekend, Monocle, and The Rake.
Beyond the News
Since becoming president, Donald Trump has successfully sought to commandeer an inordinate amount of our attention, our bandwidth, our conversations, and our lives. I refuse to let him have it.
Since his second term started, I’ve started to unapologetically invest more time and energy in other activities and distractions that give me joy. We all love music, for example, but I’ve started to lean into my love of music the way I did when I was in high school and college. Full albums, headphones on or stereo turned up, reading liner notes. It’s so much fun.
I’ve always loved movies. And, as far as I’m concerned, movie theaters are houses of worship. Earlier this year, I became an AMC Stubs member. For $28 per month, I can see up to four movies each week, with no upcharge for IMAX, Dolby Cinema, 3D, or special screenings. On the list of things that consistently bring me joy, sitting in a darkened theater with a bag of popcorn and a Diet Coke watching a movie is near the top. (And during the movie, my phone fucks all the way off in Do-Not-Disturb mode. Fabulous.)
Books. Reading books. Especially fiction. I had lost touch with how much I love a good book. In addition to the great memoirs released over the past year (Griffin Dunne, Keith McNally, Molly Jong-Fast, Jonathan Capehart, Gene Pressman, Barry Diller, Graydon Carter, etc.), the Smiley novels by John le Carré have been a particular pleasure.
Re-engaging with my physical health has been a huge lift for my mood. I just renewed my gym membership, and I’ve been really enjoying workouts and bike rides. The weight I put on after I quit smoking in 2022 has started to come off, and it feels good.
Then there’s the creative. I’ve made a concerted effort to be more consistent with my daily videos and with this newsletter, for example. Writing is something that I’ve always liked, despite my best efforts to avoid it. And once I finish a newsletter and send it, the sense of accomplishment gets me high.
Getting Outside Myself
Going slightly beyond the things I do for myself, I also attend regular gatherings with my fellow sober folk. We share our stories, we laugh, we sometimes cry, we grab coffee or dinner… it’s always worthwhile. And when I get to meet and help someone who might be struggling, it’s incredibly rewarding. Some of the funniest and most inspiring people I’ve ever met are people I’ve met in this fellowship of people in recovery. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Put On Your Mask Before Assisting the Person Next To You
This has been an incredibly challenging time for many of us. As fortunate as I am, I can still feel overwhelmed and beaten down. It is more important than ever to not let this time, this president, this administration, this news cycle dominate our lives. While it is our civic duty to stay informed so that we can make smarter decisions, vote intelligently, and hold those in power accountable, it is also essential to recognize limits and take care of oneself. I can’t read everything, watch everything, listen to everything, know everything, and react to everything. And I’m okay with that. I have to take care of myself. Because if I don’t take care of myself, I don’t have anything to offer anybody else. And that’s no way to live.
So…
Let’s take care of ourselves.
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Hi George, in response to this morning’s query- had anyone ever told Shitler to fuck off to his face, my younger brother did, twice, both in the 90’s.
First time was around 1991,92. It was at Madison Square Garden, backstage, after a Guns n Roses concert. Trump and his affair haver Marla Maples wanted to get into Axl Rose’s dressing room. Younger brother was Axl’s roadie and he answered the door as a gaggle of swells stood around outside. When he asked “do you want to meet Trump” axl said fuck no. So brother said to his face “fuck off” and then reached past him to take Carol King by the hand and show her into the dressing room. Much admiration ensued.
Second time, 1999, Bransom Misery, Miss Something or other pageant. Brother was Tour Manager and Guardian ad litem for then 15 yo pop sensation Christina Aguilera. She was scheduled as one of the entertainers for the pageant. Brother is outside the trailer as Miss Aguilera was dressing. Shitler and two moe’s stroll up and a moe said Mr. T needs to get inside and meet the talent. Brother’s senses are alerted. Says no. More harrumphing. After demanding to know what business this old man needs with an underage girl, and getting no legit response, brother tells him to his face, again, fuck off, get stepping, or he’ll call the real cops to handle the matter. Shitler and moe’s shuffle off.
So there you have it. Called that fucker out, two his face, two times. Brother stands ready to do it again, should the opportunity arise.
Regards.