Hi, my name is Analog Rebel, and I have a problem.

It started with a film camera. Then a turntable. Then a typewriter. Now I own multiple mechanical watches, a stash of expired 35mm film, and I get unreasonably excited about fountain pen ink.

If any of this sounds familiar, welcome to Analog Addicts Anonymous—where we embrace the tactile, the impractical, and the gloriously inconvenient in a world gone full digital.

Let’s walk through the symptoms together, shall we?

🎞 Symptom #1: You Bought One Film Camera. Then Five.

It began with a perfectly reasonable “starter” camera—probably a Canon AE-1 or Pentax K1000. Then you learned what a rangefinder was. Then you bought a Leica “just to try it out.” Now you’re explaining the difference between Tri-X and HP5 to strangers who didn’t ask.

You can’t go on a walk without checking light levels. And your fridge? Mostly film.
Food is optional. Grain is not.

🎶 Symptom #2: You Don’t Stream Music, You Curate It

You own a turntable that cost more than your first car. You insist vinyl “just sounds better”—especially first pressings, mono mixes, and anything from Blue Note.

You’ve said the phrase, “Digital compresses the warmth,” while sipping coffee so dark it’s legally a portal to another dimension.

You have strong opinions about sleeve art. And your worst nightmare? Warped vinyl.

⌚ Symptom #3: You Can’t Tell the Time Because Your Watch Needs Servicing (Again)

Mechanical watches: you love them. They don’t sync to anything. They lose time. Sometimes they don’t work at all. But dammit, they tick.

You’ve got at least one with a cracked crystal, another at the repair shop, and one on your wrist that’s “just a beater.” You refer to watches by reference numbers. You know what a lug-to-lug measurement is.

You don’t wear them to tell the time. You wear them because they tell stories.

✍️ Symptom #4: You Write Like It’s 1937

Ballpoint? Please. You write with a fountain pen, ideally on Japanese Tomoe River paper. Or maybe a typewriter—because nothing says “creative breakthrough” like breaking a ribbon halfway through a thought.

Your notes are in cursive. Your journals are leather-bound. You own blotting paper.
You are what happens when analog stationery meets main character energy.

📼 Symptom #5: You Own Media That Requires a Projector

Super 8. 16mm. VHS. Cassette tapes. You’ve got it all. You use words like “grain structure,” “tracking adjustment,” and “projector bulb.”

You don’t just watch movies. You screen them. And your living room has more RCA cables than your childhood RadioShack.

🧠 Final Diagnosis: You’re One of Us

You value friction. You romanticize inconvenience. You spend more time rewinding than recording.

You are, without question, an analog addict—and you’re not alone.

Here’s your permission slip to keep being “extra.” To keep seeking out the dusty, beautiful, stupidly complex tools that remind you what it means to feel something.

No cure needed. Just pass the vinyl brush and crank the Super 8.