Tapped In
2026-05-08
Can someone explain TikTok algo-crafting to me?
Seriously, I think it might just be an insanely massive cope for screen addiction, but at the same time it's such an easy way to stay Tapped In—so I don't know exactly how I feel about it. I think the meta might be having multiple accounts to garner different perspectives. Like, say I want to understand the heart and soul of a hot 20-year-old girl from France. Well, I just make an account on a separate phone with a French VPN, get into that frame of mind, and let the angels take me to her soul. A funny story: there was this girl I was talking to for a little while; she streamed her phone on Discord and I got a chance to peer into her Instagram Reels algorithm. Her habits, what she found interesting—all of it was so accessible because of the behaviors she was exhibiting and the nature of the content that caught her attention. It made me feel like a Peeping Tom, if I want to be honest with myself. And to think that those big platforms have all of that intimate data en masse. No wonder I keep going insane; it isn't just me being paranoid.
I remember this one time I was on a flight and there was this pretty college girl in the seat in front of me. In the gaps between the seats, I could see what she was doing on her phone the whole flight, and she was none the wiser. For the three hours I was on that plane, it was an intense case study of her oeuvre. I saw the frantic switching between the same three apps: Snapchat, Instagram, and TikTok—the entire flight. I saw the way she was messaging her beau and her friends, what caught her interest in her scrolling, and just what she was thinking about while trying to pass the time on a boring and uncomfortable flight. There was a certain degree of pity I felt, like I just wanted to pull her by the hair, sit her down, and give her a three-hour lecture on how she's putting her life in the hands of people who wouldn't even care if she killed herself one day. It might seem like I'm projecting my own insecurities here, but really, I've been in those shoes before—even though I'm a fat guy pushing thirty trying to remain Tapped In. People try to get meta with the brainrot joke, or try to normalize it somehow through semantic reframing and a type of rationalization I've only ever seen from speedsters and junkies.
The biggest thing I've learned is that it's a spiritual disease, up and down.
I got my car back today, and she's running well. It better be; that $6,000 repair was a real pain in my fucking ass. But I'm grateful to have my car, grateful to live another day regardless of my mobility. I have so much on my mind all the time. The gears turn fast or slow, but they're always turning—day and night, again and again. I guess I feel as if that turning can get so tiring, and I look at people around me and wonder how they're not all constantly collapsed like accordions. We're all tired, that much I know. The looks in their eyes always tell that story, but it honestly gives me a sense of wonder to see how so many of them are in such chipper spirits. That's just how Americans are, I suppose: an endlessly cheerful people. It's a good kind of virus, and it's one I see in natives and first-generation immigrants alike. We can talk about how much we hate our government and each other, yet we still find a way to pass around those little kernels of joy to each other somehow.
We are very privileged here, but the lifestyle still comes at a hefty cost. We all feel the crushing weight of debt, financial imprudence on personal and international scales, and the kayfabe we've created slowly but surely fading away—then mutating again into a new one we can't seem to pick apart just yet. I'm reminded of Clavicular again, that sweet summer child. It's a death-defying and tragic story about the warped, yet pervasive and hopeful story of the American Dream. Ascension can be found in many ways for different people, but we're still bound to our flesh and faults of character. I remember watching a clip from some podcast Braden went on, and he was having this older, less successful guy tell him that he's still young and had a lot to learn about life. Those older guys can be so wack sometimes; don't they remember being young? That kind of rhetoric is the last thing a young man wants to hear, especially not a massively successful one. The older guy was right, but being right doesn't mean the message is gonna come through right away. Perhaps he wanted to plant a seed, but so much of that goes in one ear and out the other when you're that age.
Ha, I'm saying that like I'm any different. Don't worry, friends, I'm still an arrogant butthole who doesn't fucking listen. There's a magnet on the fridge here at home; it's a drawing of a 1950s housewife with the caption "Oh my God! My mother was right about everything!" Facts, straight up. I'm really growing into my parents more and more each day, and I couldn't be happier. They're such strong people, the both of them; with how much they've been through and being together in spite of it all—it's a capacity for love I hope to even come close to one day. All the spats, disagreements, disrespect, pride, and hurt—it doesn't even begin to make me stop feeling that love down to my bones, and I know that when they're gone, I'll miss them so much I won't even be able to see straight.
But those days aren't here yet, and there's that much to kiss the sun about. I still have the privilege of being their son. I still have the privilege to be your friend. I still have the privilege to hold my love however I can, and for that I will do whatever it takes to hold back the demons and the despair. I had a dream some time ago. Those angels I told you about (or fairies or whatever they are) came to me and were gathered around me in a circle. There were about five or six of them, and they did some kind of ritual around me where they started glowing and I saw flashes of light come from each of them. Then they flew away and left me there to wake up. There's demons in my dreams, but I think I might have some friends up there, too.
Maybe they're helping me stay Tapped In, I don't know.
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