Wenceslaus Hollar: Spring (1644)

This was the writing week I dreaded since at least Christmas, though I found ample reason to celebrate before it finished. I discovered a fresh holiday, one capable of blessing rather than reliably damning me. This was a week of revelation. I conceded this week, with the petunias still alive and roses budding, that this might actually come to be the winter where winter never visited. We’ve had a few frosty mornings, but nothing sustained enough to set our gardens very far back on their knees. I mowed lawn this week.

I continued reframing my scrolling habits by ReadingBooks. I dabbled in a little StrategicForgetfulness, and stumbled into genuine realization by Trolling instead of scrolling my social media for a change, resulting in some serious change. I acknowledged that, however maligned, social media also provides some EssentialServices, and that I should acknowledge both its goodness and its shortcomings. I posted a mysterious story that attracted a surprising amount of attention on LinkedIn, but nowhere else, with Macrocosm, a meditation on the enduring possibilities social media continues to offer. I ended this writing week with a brief homage to the DigitalDespots, our reliable scrolling companions. Thank you for following along!
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Weekly Writing Summary

ReadingBooks
“I will revert to the literary for a change.”
This Unscrolling Story finds me ReadingBooks rather than scrolling through my social media feeds.
I’ve been trying to spend less time scrolling social media and wondering what I might do instead. While activities like theater or reading can also distract, I realize that social media scrolling seems different—it’s endless, unfocused, and leaves me feeling scattered and unfulfilled.
When I read books, though, the experience feels much more intentional and immersive. Reading helps me feel present and grounded, and I get a sense of real expansion and connection. Books have actually changed my life, while nothing on my social media feed ever has. I can return to books for inspiration in ways that social media doesn’t allow.
Recently, I’ve started going back to my local library, hoping to revive my old reading habits. It’s made me feel accomplished and recharged, especially as a writer. I still check social media now and then, but I’m choosing to let books, not feeds, shape my days.

The Belevskii-Zhukovskii Collection of manuscripts, photographs, drawings, books, and printed ephemera, Vasilii Andreevich Zhukovskii family album: Girl (Alexandra) reading a book (1846) - The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Art & Architecture Collection, The New York Public Library. “Girl (Alexandra) reading a book,” New York Public Library Digital Collections. Accessed January 31, 2026. (https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/0a3ba380-6a47-0135-7c5f-1dfb8ba095ee)

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StrategicForgetfulness
“…forgetting my phone on purpose when I’d most often accomplish that by default.”
This Unscrolling Story finds me engaging in the most successful Unscrolling effort so far, fueled by some StrategicForgetfulness.
Despite my best efforts, I find it nearly impossible to stop scrolling—unless I accidentally leave my phone behind. Recently, forgetting my phone forced me to disconnect, and I ended up reading and feeling more present. I’m starting to see that strategically forgetting my phone might be the best way to break the scrolling habit, and I’ll gladly claim this forgetfulness as wisdom.

Claude Gillot: Harlequin Espirit Follet: The Comedian’s Repast (c. 1700–1715)

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Trolling
“Her influence seems as eternal now as the Yew, and as paradoxical, too.”
This Unscrolling Story finds me grateful that I spent some predawn time scrolling or, more precisely, Trolling for information I desperately needed to stumble into, proving that Scrolling can sometimes prove essential.
Today marked the painful anniversary of my daughter Heidi’s suicide—a day I’ve dreaded for four prior years, knowing it would always bring sorrow. Recently, a friend encouraged me to celebrate her life rather than mourn her absence. I learned that February 2, the day she died, carries deep symbolism in both Christian and pagan traditions as a time of renewal and hope, which fits with our family’s own “Lamb Looking Sunday” tradition of searching for signs of spring.
Heidi’s struggles with chronic pain and unsuccessful treatments led her to despair, ultimately, to her taking her life with yew needles—a plant rich in paradoxical symbolism. I wasn’t able to be with her at the end, nor at her funeral, because of the damned pandemic, and that feeling of distance and loss lingers for all of us. Today, I honored Heidi’s memory by tending a fire, clearing clutter, and finding meaning in the traditions and discoveries that eternally connect us. Through this, I choose to celebrate the lasting impact of her life, as enduring and paradoxical as the yew.

Marianne Stokes: Candlemas Day (1901)

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EssentialServices
“Scrolling can serve some incredibly useful purposes, sometimes even EssentialServices.”
This Unscrolling Story tells of my recent revelation that scrolling provides some EssentialServices and isn’t all evil.
I began this series with what turned out to be false assumptions, but I now realize that’s part of the process—every serious inquiry starts with partial truths and evolves through discovery. Writing about the supposed evils of doom-scrolling, I expected only to confirm its harms, but found instead that scrolling can sometimes offer unexpected insights and even Essential Services. My experience yesterday, sparked by random social media browsing, brought me a new perspective on grief that I never could have planned for. I see now that holding too tightly to what I already “know” limits what I might discover. While I’ll still criticize scrolling when it deserves it, I’m also willing to acknowledge its surprising usefulness. We can’t undo our place in modern life; sometimes, even our so-called vices have value.
Mieko (Chieko) Shiomi, George Maciunas: Water Music (1964)

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Macrocosm
“On my better days, I catch reassuring glimpses of it.”
This Unscrolling Story finds me uncynically scrolling, hoping for reassuring glimpses of the social media I’d hoped to find.
Social media started as an expansive idea—one meant to connect everything—but over time, it splintered into parts, often hijacked by cynics for profit and manipulation. Social media, once full of promise, now often feels like a tool for division and repression, though its original idealistic DNA still lingers beneath the surface. Each platform only poorly reflects the whole, and our constant exposure to these fragments can leave us disillusioned and addicted, repeating empty patterns.
Yet, sometimes, even in the midst of cynicism, genuine moments of connection and hope emerge, reminding me of what social media could still become. I realize that perfection was always a flawed goal; what matters are the choices we make and our capacity for wisdom over cynicism. Social media retains its potential, and I believe the founding ideal still holds power. As I doomscroll, I search for those glimpses of hope and idealism, and on good days, I even manage to find them.

Lucas Kilian: Second Vision, from Mirrors of the Microcosm (1613)

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DigitalDespots
“Stay tuned. We all might end up on the payday side of some future class action.”
This Unscrolling Story might seem paranoid. It recounts how Digital Despots haunt our social media engagements like poltergeists.
Free speech online seems to attract manipulators and despots, making it hard to separate truth from deception. Social media encourages thoughtless sharing, exposing us to scams and cynicism. While we have the right to speak, we also have the responsibility to be careful—digital despots are everywhere, and caution seems essential.

Albrecht Dürer: The Desperate Man (1515–16)

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This Is The Test
No scenario now exists that will allow us, tucked away in this lovely valley they named twice, to avoid an even more severe drought than we experienced during last year’s severe drought. These events compound upon each other as we start out this year even drier than almost any prior year, so even if we receive the same stingy volume of moisture we received last year, which could happen, we’ll end up with less usable water than ever before. We know how to address this shortage, but we’re unwilling to respond accordingly. Many hold faith in some magical intervention, which could happen, however unlikely. Many feel entitled to their historical allocation because their ancestor staked a claim during Abraham Lincoln’s administration. Most of us will end up feeling victimized by the unavoidable inconvenience.

The background noise has some days, become overwhelming. The insanity emanating from this administration, incapable of administering anything, astounds. Those of us who firmly believed we were learning anything from our experience feel betrayed to discover that way too many continued to insist upon ignorance as their sole imperative, albeit steeled with what they must have believed to be redeeming faith. The Gods can’t care any less, so we must. Even when caring seems determined to tear out our hearts, we must care, we must continue caring, and even probe ever deeper into these voids because nobody else will. Those indifferent to absolute insanity will not be any more okay than the rest of us, who still feel vulnerable to its viciousness. We will have to bail them out to save ourselves. This is the test!

I employed Grammarly, a commercial AI-powered text editor, to create the above story summaries, prompting with: “Please briefly summarize this story in the first person while retaining the original voice.” I manually copy-edited each result.

©2026 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Unscrolling, #PureSchmaltz