Shehan Karunatilaka: ‘Why does Spotify think I’m a dork?’

Lists I need to make: 8%
Everything has to begin with a list. Or days will disappear into rabbit holes. This still happens, but at least the rabbit holes are curated ones. I will make lists of things I am supposed to fix, stories I am to tackle, exercises I will get around to, basslines I should master and errands I might put off. Some days I stare at the numbered items and go and lie down, usually in the foetal position. Sometimes I get excited by imagining that everything on the list is done. On better days, I attempt one thing and then a second, and get a few steps closer to finishing them both. (The universal rule of lists is the least urgent things get done first. I wrote a drum shuffle, a video game idea and a thing that will get me cancelled as the deadline for this article ticktocked by.)

Moving the family across the planet: 19%
The exile project has been on my mind for years. How to recreate Covid conditions, without people having to die? Am I the only one who misses the enforced family time, mandatory learnings, inevitable productivity and daily gratitude that lockdowns brought? My brilliant plan of moving the family to New Zealand took some selling to the stakeholders, two of whom were below 11. The rest was logistics. Pack house, say byes, choose schools, find home, stay sane. In the end, we made it to sunny Christchurch, a month before World War Three.

Out-thinking the algorithm: 6%
Why does Spotify think I’m a dork? Why does Netflix keep pushing serial killers on to me? I used to have friends, magazines and radios tell me which art to consume. Now I have the algos, who send me playlists of Dad Rock and Yacht Rock and viewing recommendations filled with foul-mouthed comics and violent cartoons. I tried returning to vinyl, but lost patience when needles started skipping. I wish to listen to timeless albums as sequenced by the artist. Not wipe things. Now I perform affirmative action on my playlists by sprinkling them with art films, Tamil jazz and Doja Cat. In the hope that a bunch of zeros and ones will understand me better.

Imaginary debates: 9%
I used to argue on phones and computers with strangers and friends. These seldom ended pleasantly. Now I re-enact these battles in my head with me playing hero and idiot. My strategy for avoiding conflict is to fight with myself. Daily. In these great debating halls of my mind, I have turned warmongers into peaceniks, made Trumpers go woke, and even won an argument with my spouse.

Lies that prop this world up: 37%
Our worlds are filled with lies that we tell ourselves and fictions we are made to swallow. That there are good guys and bad guys. That our governments believe in freedom and democracy. And that everyone agrees that killing children is wrong. We’ve all peddled lies. I worked in advertising and dressed up lies as truth. Then wrote fiction that dressed up truths as lies. The novella I’m finishing is about conspiracy theories that sound less conspiratorial with each news cycle. It’s not surprising that our worlds are built on myths. What’s astonishing is that we continue to believe in the same ones.

Two dead dads and turning 50: 12%
We buried both my children’s grandfathers last year, on either side of my 50th birthday. Both men played a good innings, as they say, averaging 83.74 between them. Both worked careers, built homes, made friends, did no harm. One deteriorated slowly, the other declined swiftly. Leaving behind voids and thoughts on their last 30 years and my next 30 years and whether there are lessons and if they may be unlearned.

What happens when the internet is turned off? 4%
It’ll happen one day and no one will hear me say I told you so.

What am I subscribed to and where are the passwords? 2%
Does anyone know? I made a list (obvs) and then watched several algo-endorsed documentaries on cyber security. I’m not bothered that I pay for things I don’t use or scared that criminals will hack my Insta. I’m more terrified of misremembering passwords and forgetting where I put my life.

What’s for dinner: 3%
The matriarchy finally lets me cook. Before the move to Aotearoa, my kitchen was colonised by a flotilla of well-meaning ladies who questioned my right to wield a spatula. Here, in the country that first gave women the vote, men have a universal right to make messes in kitchens and that is my intention this evening. Even got me a cooking app that sends a new recipe each day. Now what was that password again?