Ann Nooney: Closing Time (1937-1742)
Works Progress Administration (Sponsor)

"One might never notice what's not present in their life as a result of their scrolling addiction."

Scrolling started in earnest during the Covid shutdown. It didn’t start immediately, but it seemingly inexorably grew to consume an inordinate amount of a typical day. What can I say? The library suddenly felt risky. The television doesn’t work in our house until after sundown. The Muse was working remotely—first in the basement, then, after we relocated back home, in her back-of-the-second-floor office. There was little else to do, or so it seemed, and the illusion of connection fed what would become a full-blown addiction. I’d finish my work before seven a.m., then look at the day stretching out before me before immersing myself into the only activity left that would have me.

That world delivered convincing cues that I was doing something. I was accessing news, or so I imagined. I was following up on headline stories to discover other relevant bits. I could connect with sequestered others, and together, we could create a convincing sense of community. I reconnected with people with whom I’d previously lost touch and became familiar with some who had never been more than distantly casual connections before. None of what we discussed ever went anywhere, but going anywhere might not have been the point. Nobody was going anywhere then. The Muse’s sister began posting a daily update on the dreaded contagion, and that serial provided more than adequate justification to log in every morning. Sharing and commenting could occupy a morning. And I genuinely felt as though I was getting smarter.

I was posting my daily PureSchmaltz stories, too, and those kept me logged in through the earliest mornings. I only rarely ever missed making one of my morning postings. They would spark a little commentary. Later, on Friday mornings, I began convening a Zoom chat that continues to this day with a few dedicated attendees, most of them from the earliest days of Covid and before. My world felt adequate for the period. I was never anybody’s rodeo-queen extrovert. I hadn’t learned to hang out in coffee houses or bars for anonymous conversation. I’d slip out for masked grocery excursions, speaking to nobody for those durations. I honestly felt more in public while scrolling than I ever did while roaming around.

Dependencies do not start out as imperatives. For the longest time, they remain genuine choices, to be taken or not without ramifications. Then at some indefinite point, what was choice becomes inexorable, no longer a choice but more like a duty, an obligation. It seems as though something terrible will happen if you don’t engage—a sure sign that you’re engaging in something that could ultimately prove to be truly terrible behavior. Like anything, addictions creep in on those infamous little cat’s feet, unremarkable and innocuous; perfectly normal. We tend to tolerate initial doses of even toxic substances. They poison by accumulation over time, by the inch-pebble rather than by the mile-boulder. There was never a point denoting the beginning, so it seemed like a perfectly natural continuation with perhaps a little bit of escalation, but nothing alarming. Quite the opposite: addictions are first solutions, reassuring adaptations to present conditions before they turn into obsessions we cannot shake.

Scrolling ain’t like opium addiction. Those of us who scroll aren’t properly characterized as fiends, though a few of us undoubtedly feel at least slightly fiendish down in what’s left of our souls. Scrolling might be, at root, a soulless or, at worst, a soul-neutral activity. It’s certainly not inherently evil, even though its demands fuel the explosive need for data centers and electricity price increases. Its evil seems suitably subtle. It’s simply a matter of doing what you’ve seemingly always done, only more so. What might have gone toward exercising a hobby becomes enough of an obsession to essentially put an end to that hobby. Further, it’s inherently enjoyable, featuring ample bright lights and shiny attractions to keep anyone entertained. It’s at root entertainment squeezing out higher-order engagements. Since entertainment never leaves behind any evidence of its existence, it wastes whatever time might have contributed to creating something instead. One might never notice what’s not present in their life as a result of their scrolling addiction.

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Unscrolling, #PureSchmaltz