Karsh Writes

Sunday Asides #79

A medium close-up shot of a Black man with a groomed beard and a serious, concerned expression, dressed in a dark suit, white shirt, and striped tie. He is positioned in an elegantly dim room, with a soft-lit wall lamp and a gold-framed picture visible in the background. The entire scene is viewed through the dark horizontal slats of blinds, which create a cinematic, voyeuristic perspective. The mood is tense and dramatic, suggesting a moment of suspense or observation within a high-stakes professional or legal environment.

Sunday Asides #78

In this intimate, cinematic close-up, two women are lying together in a bed, sharing a moment of quiet emotional connection. The woman in the foreground rests her head on a pale, textured pillow, her eyes closed and a soft, melancholic smile on her face as she is embraced from behind. The second woman, dressed in a dark long-sleeved top, leans in closely with a gentle, protective expression, her hand resting tenderly on the other woman's shoulder. The lighting is warm and low, creating a moody, dramatic atmosphere that emphasizes the rich textures of the orange and red patterned bedding and the deep blue fluted headboard in the background. The overall style is reminiscent of a still from a television drama, capturing a poignant sense of comfort, vulnerability, and sisterhood.

Divest!

This symbolic digital composite features a close-up of two dark-skinned hands raised against a clear, sunlit sky, breaking a heavy iron chain that connects shackles around the wrists. Floating centrally within the gap of the broken links are the icons for four prominent gay dating and social apps: Scruff, Grindr, Jack'd, and Sniffies. Set against a blurred background of weathered stone walls, the image employs a naturalistic, high-contrast lighting style to convey a powerful message of liberation and digital divestment, framing the departure from these platforms as a profound act of personal freedom.

There’s a common refrain I’ve been hearing from gay men over the past few years.

“The apps are horrible.”

“The apps are trash.”

“The apps ain’t shit.”

And yet, gay men are still on these apps. Hell, as of last year, I was still on them myself! And I’ve been on them for at least a decade. (I say that mainly because I don’t even remember when I started, but I definitely had a long-term fuckbuddy I met from Growlr back in 2015 or so.) There was a level of accessibility and anonymity that the apps provided that worked with my life and my schedule, and the norms around meeting people from there (or from the Internet in general) had made it a common and acceptable practice.

I think that’s where the current disillusionment took root though. It’s already a pain in the ass trying to flatten my multitudes into simple stats and a few well-angled photos, hoping that this trading card version of myself is enough to sustain a few superficial interactions in the hopes of getting some action. But now, especially since the pandemic, the apps are oversaturated as fuck. That’s all given birth to an extremely toxic environment where I’m dismissed with a swipe or a block before any kind of conversation takes place. It’s so draining and disappointing.

On top of that, there are all the nasty, angry profiles, the ridiculous body shaming, the femmephobia, the racism, the hypersexualization, the harassment...all this for the hope of some instant gratification because hey, I’ve got the app right here in my hand! Who needs to go out to the club or meet people in a communal third space? But the trade-off for convenience is always sacrificing something else. In this case, me and my needs are the trade-off.

But this year, I’m finally kicking the app habit cold turkey and completely abstaining from them. It’s been about two weeks now since I deleted my profiles and uninstalled them. I’m even telling IRL friends so they can keep me honest.

As you can probably guess, even this comes with some pushback.

“The apps are what you make them.”

“I mean, the apps are fine for me.”

“You’ll be back.”

True -- the apps are what you make it. But the systemic issues I mentioned before still run rampant on that platform. And because the apps have monetized the shit out of their features, having the option to customize your experience is locked behind a paywall. So now I have to pay money to possibly have a better experience in a setting rife with negativity and unrealistic expectations? How did we fall so far?

While the apps probably had the initial premise of fostering authentic connection -- and for a lot of guys, they do find that there! -- that’s never been my experience. And the older I’ve gotten, the worse the experience has been. So instead of trying to bang my head against the wall in hopes of getting my head banged against my headboard, I’m divesting from the apps.

Will I trade this for IRL experiences or will I end up reinstalling the apps and making new profiles before I turn 45? Stay tuned!

beta

Maybe it's because I've been busy with work and meetings since the year started, but it's felt like more than two weeks since I started this 9x9 Greek alphabet grid series. Nevertheless, here we are at the second puzzle in this series -- beta! (Speaking of which, I could use a beta tester or two on these puzzles. I just kinda sleep on them and revisit them later with fresh eyes.)

Enjoy!

Sunday Asides #77

This cinematic film still features an elegant older woman with long, wavy silver hair and a cream-colored coat with a plush faux-fur collar, looking toward a man whose back is to the camera. She wears a brown blouse and gold hoop earrings, her expression one of firm expectation or slight impatience as she speaks. At the bottom of the frame, white subtitles read, "Don't make me late." The lighting is soft and warm, characteristic of a high-end television drama, set against a neutral, sophisticated interior that enhances the scene's mood of domestic urgency.

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