Can Substack save the world?

Or maybe just me

As I write this, I'm in the back of an Uber, headed down to go do radio with my friends Mandy and Kristal. They do a show every month, "Thirsty Thursday," where they drink wine and talk about it. Obviously, this is the correct radio show on which to try to score an invite. This time I'm bringing some cheese.

Although recording will be on the entire opposite side of town from me, almost an hour away, I've turned into such a lightweight it's worth it to Uber so I can enjoy the wine selections and snacks curated by Kristal.

I can't help but wonder how my life would have turned out differently if Uber had existed just a decade earlier than it did.

Most of my 20s I lived in downtown Denver, partly for the ability to walk almost anywhere. The advent of technologies like ride-apps has completely changed the landscape of what kind of lifestyle is available.

Only a few years after committing to adulthood in Colorado over Washington DC or somewhere similar, the apps sprang up. They made a life elsewhere that looked less desirable seem like more of a possibility. But, I was committed, and Colorado is home.

I might have lived further from the city if there'd been Uber or in an entirely different place altogether. DC with ride-app is a totally different animal than DC with just the metro.

Even today, I can go from feeding and watering goats to on-air across town eating cheese and drinking wine with my friends because of this crazy technology. I wouldn't have had the same option ten years ago - life comes at you fast.

Similarly, I am writing this piece on Substack, a platform that was in its infancy just a few years ago when I started this urban farming project. It has now completely transformed my habits and communications. I'm a more regular writer now than I ever have been; it’s fabulous.

I've long been struck by the strange dichotomy the internet and new technology offers us. It can be extraordinary and disruptive - but also so toxic. Never before in history has the stream of information and communication changed so rapidly, and I am part of the last generation to bridge that gap.

My children will never know what it is to research in an encyclopedia. They'll never be writing a paper on lemmings and get totally screwed because another student got to the library first and is writing an essay on lions. They'll live their entire lives trying to filter too much information, not in a quest to acquire more. It's a wondrous and dangerous world.

There's no question that social media has completely changed the landscape in ways good and bad. I have friends and connections I never would without the internet (I type to you, my friends, on the internet). However, the world we now occupy has an unprecedented amount of access.

When I started my career as one of the last "millennials" who could bridge the gap, I made a living taking the longer-format messages and research and turning them into bite-sized posts. The adverse effects of social media on our communication styles and discourse has been studied ad nauseam by smarter people than I, but the rise of Substack gives me hope.

Substack allows the ability to crowdfund longer-format writing. It's an artful response to the clipped posts and threads that have dominated all communications. I hope it's the rebirth of nuance and complex thought. To me, this space feels like the pendulum swinging back.

So, maybe people are finally sick of trying to understand multi-faceted concepts and people in 140 character bites. Perhaps they're finally tired of an algorithm deciding what they see and in what order. Or, maybe they just want some goat and chicken stories as a reprieve from the usual fare. Regardless, the growth and change of this newsletter helps me every week to see the better side of the internet.

Just like I wouldn't be who I am today if Uber was available just a bit earlier, I also wouldn't be who I am today if Substack didn't put out a platform that allows me to help pay my mortgage by writing about cheese and goats. It's hard not to play "what if?" as these life-changing technologies disrupt, but a different path for me would have had less cheese and sounds much less delicious.

So, I'll just sit back here in the back seat of this car I wouldn't be in if not for this app on my phone. And, I'll head off to day drink on the radio with friends I may or may not know if not for the internet. I'll type these words to you, my friends, on this platform that finally has me consistently writing in the way I always wanted to.

Pass the wine and cheese. Thanks for being here.