Too much already so nothing matters
I keep thinking I should start a project that would take me months to finish, write and photograph a long piece, and then find somewhere to publish it. But then I look at the steady stream of detritus that flows through my laptop every day and realize that nobody needs any more writing or pictures. Nobody needs any more of anything.
I could delude myself into thinking that my diligent and purposeful activity would eventually make some sort of difference to somebody, but I think it would at best amount to self-deception.
There are too many choices for my limited attention. I subscribe to Netflix and there’s a lot out there for which pay a paltry sum. Last night we watched one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen on Netflix. Last month we watched one of the best TV series I’ve ever seen, three seasons worth, thirty-nine, one-hour episodes.
I saw a movie in a cinema last month, but it was the first time I’ve been out to see a movie since we started up with Netflix.
I no longer “read” anything. I skim. I’m always browsing, hoping that something substantial and evocative will grab my attention for longer than a few seconds. That rarely, if ever happens.
geezersabroad 
I hope you try this and tell me if you think I’m right. Please read by candlelight for an hour a day. It is my hypothesis we’ve been reading that way for centuries and our brain gets tight without it.
Writers write. Imagine a reader. I read everything of yours I come across.