Welcome to Life Before Algorithms

notes on memory, media, and the slow life we had before the feed

I’ve been thinking a lot about boredom. Not the kind of existential boredom that sits beside you through burnout. I’m thinking more “Tuesday afternoon as a seven-year-old, playing in the mud” bored.

The kind where you play with a worm and study it for hours. Where you call a friend and hope they’re home to talk. Where you wander into a bookstore without a title in mind and leave with something life-changing. When the bus is late so you strike up a conversation with another rider to evade the frigid Northern cold.

Before the feed and “recommended for you.” Before every moment of attention was meticulously curated and optimized.

I’m interested in that world, and how it energizes us.

For the last decade, I’ve studied feminist and queer movements from the 70s through the early 2000s — how people built culture, community, and change before platforms did the sorting for us. Flyers. Phone trees. Zines. Late nights. Messy collective meetings. Word of mouth.

Last year, I published Generation Queer, which grew out of that research and out of hundreds of conversations with organizers, artists, and educators shaping new futures. Since then, I’ve been traveling, teaching, hosting workshops, and developing Lavender Education, where I help writers and historians bring their own projects into the world.

But I keep craving a quieter place to think — expansions on daily thoughts and journal wonderings. Someplace to linger while I experiment with a year signed off from social media.

A place for: notes from the archives, stories that didn’t fit into a book, creative experiments, neuroscience rabbit holes, reflections on grief and memory, and what it means to live slowly in a very fast world.

This Substack is where I’m carving out that quieter place.

Life Before Algorithms is where I’ll share:

• behind-the-scenes research from my history work

• pieces inspired by Generation Queer events and conversations

• essays on media, attention, and the brain

• creative nonfiction + fragments

• and updates from a new book project about grief in the post-algorithm era

Think of it as a cross between a field notebook, a letter from a friend, and a long walk through your neighborhood. Less hot takes, more observation and slowness.

If you’re here, you probably miss something too — maybe the feeling of making things without metrics, or learning from someone older than you, or getting lost on purpose.

I’m glad you found your way here. Welcome. Let’s slow down together.

I just got off the phone with a writer friend who’s headed to Paris. It reminded me of one of the many sidewalk engravings I’ve been noticing and taking photos of. Translation: “Butter! Give me butter! Always butter!” I’ll be fantasizing about croissants for the rest of the day. I hope this week brings you unexpected art and deliciousness to savor — food, thoughts, creativity.