Thursday, December 4, 2014

Goodbye Kafka.


I drove my girls to school this morning. 

We looked up at the Puy de Dome, it was covered with snow, there was a pink glint on its whiteness from the rising sun.  

We were together gazing up at its beauty. We laughed, I don't remember why.

I can fully understand how mountains are considered sacred places. 

I can fully understand how words, numbers, pictures can be considered as a trap. 

We talk of technology, I would say that language is a technology. 

We don't need smartphones to distance ourselves from reality.  

We only need words.

What did Terry quote?

The word is not the thing. Alfred Korsybski

Yes, that's right the word is not the thing.

I am happy to escape from the spreadsheet experiment, that I have been playing with here.  

Terry has been playing too, with explain everything.  I loved the colour, the movement. 

On reflection there was something about all this cell formating lark which made me feel claustrophobic.





Last night I played around with zeega. (hidden link)

I found the result, paranoia inducing, dark. 

I have had enough black and white for a while. 

I have had enough of cells, of breaking things down to their bones. 

I think I am fed up with keyboards, glass screens.

I need texture, grass, wind, sunshine, laughter.

I don't need to talk of connection. I don't need a box, a page, a pen. 

Goodbye Kafka.

Kafka is not good company, he gets under your skin, he gives me the creeps.











4 comments:

  1. Some days, we need a view from the top of the mountain, too.

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  2. Yes, sometimes we need to be in the mountains :-)

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  3. Yeah, the problem with spreadsheets and comment boxes and digital beds of all stripes and kinds is that there is now turbulence. Hence the claustrophobia. I mentioned in a blog recently a similar need, "I went outside. It’s what I always do when I am drowned by the profusion of the net. I am driven to move into a larger, slower, deeper and more profoundly simultaneous system. Nature or Gaia or the Mother or the Father. Name matters not. I just step into a vision in a rain barrel

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