Shelter from the rain

Today threatened rain in Borås. It was a good thing Algot Hegnander (1838 - 1904) had found a spot for us under a large tree with thick branches too keep us dry. Luckily the rain never came and we even enjoyed a few patches of sunshine, and quite a few bird serenades. It was quite enjoyable, and I left him a small lavender flower I found next to us.

Focault and coffee

It seems I chose an inopportune time for my lunch today. When I got to the park there were hardly any comfortable spots in the shade. Luckily I found Björn Johansson (1915-1969) resting under a birch tree in the lower end of the park, I joined him there with my coffee and "The Order of Things". Sadly, neither of us had anything new to offer on Focault, though obviously for different reasons.

Following a Rabbit

Today, while walking in the park looking for company, I saw a small rabbit on the path. I decided to follow it until it disappeared into a small hedge. On the other side I found the entrance to small enclosure, and within I found Algot Reis (No dates given), but no rabbit. I joined him there within his small leafy fortress, and had my lunch. Sadly, the absence of grass and abundance of ants made our interlude a regrettably short one. I suppose there's a lesson here about trusting rabbits to guide you...

A rude nap

Lunchdate today: C.G. Åhgren (1788-1846). Stood up all the way through, making me feel rude for laying down for a nap afterward.

The quietest park...

Today I had lunch in the quietest park in Borås. I spent it with Anna Netterblad (1823-1911). She didn't eat much, but didn't mind if I did.

Revival 3.0!

So, I'm going to give this blogging thing a final go, and hopefully keep i alive for a few weeks this time.

To keep myself motivated I decided that I'd prepare a few backdated entries (this one included) and try to get a theme going. Over the past week I've been having lunch in what I described as "the quietest park in Borås" (where I live) and posting short, hopefully amusing, Facebook updates about it. My updates the past few days have run a bit long, and I've wanted to add pictures to them, so here we are.

As often as I feel like it I'll present my lunch anecdotes, and maybe even do some propper blogging in between, but I'll try to keep the Noise (Aka. Rants, and fluff like this) to a minimum

-Duma

Invisible Pipes

I've been reading a lot of existentialist comics lately, more specifically DC Vertigo comics from the mid-late 90's. It you haven't read Grant Morrisons the Invisibles or the early runs of Hellblazer I highly recommend you do. Then I recommend you read them again. I read the Invisibles for the first time around 5 years ago, and I wasn't a fan, at all. The second time around I was amazed. One of the dominating ideas of the Invisibles can me summed up in the old Magritte painting, "La trahison des images":

The Image on the canvass is -of - a pipe, but it is not -a- pipe. This is something obvious to everyone, but the part I find more fascinating is the other question the image poses. "Even if the image of the pipe is obviously false, is the word? Is the word "pipe" in itself the same as the essence of the idea "Pipe"? The Invisibles presents drug called "Key 23" which causes the user to see, as if real, anything they see in text.

I find this idea amazingly fascinating, and that's the reason I'm writing this blog-post, which I suspect someone else wrote 13 or so years ago. The real reflection I dwell on after this is "How real is written experience"? A typical example in text-as reality is the common web-come-back "Pics or it never happened".

I'm not really sure where I'm headed with this, mostly spontaneous, ramble. I'm currently on a buss from Gothenburg to Oslo and I'm trying desperately to ignore the chattering people who insisted on placing themselves right in front of me on the nearly empty bus.

The point I think I'm trying to raise is that we rarely reflect on what is really real and what we can only perceive because we accept that it exists, in the nature of its name. The understanding of language as defining of our possibility to perceive reality has its own theoretical nickname, by the way, "The Conquering Meme". The most amusing factor in this regard, proposed in the Invisibles, is the existence of letters in our language, which can be utilized to create the names for concepts we have forgotten.

But enough rambling for now, I feel a strong need to reread Foucault and ponder why i felt so hopelessly lost for about half an hour earlier today, when I realized I'd left my phone at home and I wasn't able to find out what the time was.