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Last Saturday, I wrote about how 2026 is gearing up to be the year of the analogue, in which people would pick up tactile, tangible hobbies instead of their phones. TikTokkers are making Analogue Bags, which are just activity packs that include all manner of non-Wi-Fi-based activities. Paradoxically, I’ve seen much online content about the joys of being offline.
I don’t always get it right but, boy, I feel like I prognosticated the heck out of that trend.
“Anchor in Analogue: Read More, Scroll Less” reads a banner ad on Indigo’s website, so this idea has officially made it from TikTok and Instagram to the marketing departments of major retail chains. After all, “analogue” is a thing you can buy, too. Gotta get all those books and paints and puzzles from somewhere.
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After I filed that column, as is so often the case in this job, I had more thoughts about it. And since this feels like a very Next subject, I thought I’d say more here.
One thread I’d like to pick up is the idea that most abstinence-only advice around screen time falls short because it ignores the fact that sometimes phones are fun. And I’d add, useful. I like being able to look up that guy from that thing while I’m watching the thing he’s currently in. I like keeping up with The Discourse online. I like spending some Screen Time making jokes in all my various group chats. Would actually physically hanging out with my friends better and preferable? Of course. But some of them live very far away, and this is better than not hanging out at all.
Fixating on Screen Time Zero doesn’t work for me, because sometimes I rack it up recording interviews or writing thoughts in my Notes app or using it as, you know, a phone.
Maybe these are excuses, though. Maybe there are elements about my phone I have become over-reliant on and comfortable with, and discomfort is growth, etc.
The word I keep returning to when it comes to the topic is not “analogue,” but “friction.” The phone is a mostly frictionless experience. You can do almost anything and everything on it. You can order food or any other good without interacting with anyone. Your friends can just exist as screen names and avatars. You can live on your phone.
Adding more friction to the phone, then, might be a way to use it less. Putting it in a different room? Friction. Making a rule that says you can’t pull it out during dinner, or you can’t be on it while you’re doing another activity? Friction.
When the internet was a place we had to visit on a stationary computer, friction was baked into the experience. You couldn’t take it into bed with you, you didn’t have unlimited access. It was still possible to log off.
I love data, so a challenge to myself this month isn’t about reducing my Screen Time (though I expect that’ll be a byproduct) but thinking critically about how and why I use my phone, and if there are alternatives. Maybe that looks like using a physical notebook again instead of my Notes app, or consulting a recipe book instead of Google. Maybe that looks like phone calls or hanging out more IRL instead of relying on group chats and the exchanging of memes.
All of these things require effort, which is another word I keep returning to. Because, as it turns out, I don’t want to live an effortless, frictionless life. And I don’t want to spend my life on my phone.
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