Coded green.

Thursday 19 January 2006

Scientific magazines

Pic of the day: Ready to throw away.

...all the papers...

21 February 2000 I bought a CD called "Kast alle papirene" (throw away all the papers). I played it a little then, and a few minutes now and then later. The general impression is still the same. I listen to it and can't decide whether it is intended as irony or just comes across as it because of his naturally mocking voice and my own attitude. Perhaps a near literal translation into The World Language would help you help me decide... Comments by yours truly as usual.

Trow away all the papers
that lie there in stacks
and torment your memory, my friend.
You shall surely become happy again
and never will you miss them
and bitterly regret that you have thrown them away.

Uhm, the choice of emotionally loaded words at the end there don't mesh too well with the supposed message, does it? "Bitterly regret", eh?

Throw away the first letters
you received in your years of youth
and throw those you didn't send yourself!

-Hey, how did he know that??

You have done your duty
and your children will surely understand,
since you have written letters they must throw themselves.

Throw away all the papers!
That is so liberating!

Throw away all the papers
with all the writings
that stress your conscience to death.
Then your memory doesn't need to remember
that you have forgotten
to think about a past's very best friend...

Thank you soo much for reminding us!

Throw away all the messages
with all the dashes* [Norwegian: thought-lines]
that stand there and just mess up your home
and remind you of things that you have forgotten
and are far away
and parts of yourself you don't recognize anymore.

The last line you might even say punchline is what made the most impact on me this time, and I think before too. Parts of yourself you don't know (or recognize) anymore. Just recently I thought about the fact that my recent life seems to fall in two parts: Before and after my diary archive. I have not chronicled quite everything after 1998, but enough to have a pretty good idea of what went on in my life. But before ... I can feel it slipping away. I am taking old receipts with me to work and run them through the shredder. I cast a look at them and they remind me of a time and a part of me that I don't quite know anymore. Oh, it's not like I spent the money on ale and whores. But I guess my buying habits were less structured back then. Money burned in my pockets and then suddenly I had to use a credit card even though nothing special was going on. Just like a human. A part of myself I don't want to recognize anymore. (I mean, these days I buy computers. They're special. They're important. Yeah.)

And yeah, I kept some of the first letters I got from my mom. And the last. And the post cards from Superwoman from all over the globe. And the holiday cards from Tsaiko. A motley crew isn't it? The handwriting I used as an adult although it has degenerated to barely legible now was not the one I learned in first grade. No, I learned it from a card I got from a girl in eight grade. She had beautiful long black hair and a very neat handwriting. I have no idea where she is now and what life has brought her, although my computer job could let me find out quite a bit if I wanted to. But I lost that card sometime, and so I never needed to remember that I forgot to think about a past's friend. Not that she ever knew that I noticed her, I think.

I still think I'll keep a few letters. But luckily I get mostly e-mail these days. It certainly takes a lot less space. It is also easier to get rid of ... in fact, depending on what kind of e-mail you have, you may accidentally leave it behind when you discard an old computer. Or it disappears in a disk crash. Or you feel moody one day and press delete. But I think I'll keep some, even if it shows a part of myself I don't recognize anymore. That may happen pretty fast, these days.


Yesterday <-- This month --> Tomorrow?
One year ago: You will rye this day!
Two years ago: Then and now and then
Three years ago: Shrouded Isles day 2
Four years ago: Manly men don't smell fruity
Five years ago: The right way
Six years ago: Cultures of the ancient(s)
Seven years ago: Cows and meditation

Visit the archive page for the older diaries I've put out to pasture.


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