The most noticeable feature of The Grand Canyon is its size. It is very large and very deep. It’s the sort of scale that can not yet be transmitted through screens. It simply covers too much of your field of vision and the walls are just too far away for your depth perception to register the astonishing distances.
The Grand Canyon is so big that, not only is your depth perception useless, but the parallax effect seems to brake. The shift in perspective that your legs achieves is just so tiny compared to the depths of the landscape. The view of the canyon just sort of floats around you as you walk along the edge. Much like a starry sky but carved into the ground.
1 Aug 2013 / 1 note
I suspect modern traveling, amongst other completely unnatural things, is making us go nuts.
As far as I know humans have always been traveling creatures. If that wasn’t the case we’d still all have a sunny time in Africa but it seems like, throughout the years, a few people have felt motivated to move on to other places – like Scandinavia, my own point of origin.
Just a few hundred years ago this emigration happened very slowly as walking from continent to content with all your stuff takes loads of time. Landscapes changed at the speed of which one walked (or sailed). While this must have been inspiring, mesmerising and wonderful, this way of discovering the world has rhythm and linearity.
Compare this to stepping into a flying metal cylinder and showing up in a place where everything is suddenly new. Consider a really interesting destination: People make noises you can’t make sense of, the climate is different, colours are off, the food culture is weird, so are the people – even the time isn’t the same anymore. Familiarity is nowhere to be found. So this new experience comes crashing straight into your face with a merciless force and you try to hold on to the fact that at least everyone is wearing pants and owns a cellphone. You fail miserably as all similarities you find aren’t actually reminding you of shared attributes but just being a person, any person. You all have legs and farts in common but that’s not what makes home recognisable.
Every time I travel to a new place (looks, acts and feels new) my mind breaks in approximately the same way. It breaks and I pick up the pieces while studying a culture, person or scenery. It’s usually quite a nauseating and rewarding experience.
How does this make anyone go nuts? I suspect we’re all mental to begin with but the black magic of airplanes must certainly distort things even more. A lot of us seems to get addicted to this sorcery – we can’t stop ourselves doing it again and again, as often as possible. Anxiety arises if one is in one place for too long.
I’m not making the argument that we should do less traveling or see less things but I’d like to suggest that we might go crazy as we go.
24 Jun 2013 / 0 notes
So good. Go get it. Thanks, @darkwark for saving my hair.
7 May 2013 / 0 notes
I’ve had a lot of ideas recently. They’ve been grand, small, complicated, abstract. All of them hard to explain. All of them forming a huge barrier of performance anxiety.
The urge to write, to concretise, is making my hands itch and my head hurt. This meta-writing won’t stop that but it’s a start. Now there’re some words put down on the surface of the internet; something for me to latch on to.
Defining a clear starting point is essential to even begin – At least that’s the idea. I hope it works. Fingers crossed, except when I’m typing.
3 May 2013 / 0 notes
Scratch is a brilliant application tailored for quick text capture. It does it better, faster and more well thought through than any other note taking app I’ve seen. “Append to Dropbox file”: sick.
If this was a review site I’d give it 4/5. Would have been 5 if they didn’t infect both the interface and the icon with this horrible turquoise gradient.
See the website.
12 Oct 2012 / 0 notes
11 Oct 2012 / 0 notes
I got a present from my brother a few days ago. It’s a pen, made for writing and not drawing. The last object I was this excited about was the toy revolver I got when I was six.
6 Oct 2012 / 0 notes
Way too much of my life seem to be passing me by as a blurry background behind the sharp, black edges of my iPhone.
A lot of people seem to have lost all of their respect for conversation or physical presence. People that begin to compose a new text message while I’m in the middle of a sentence throws me off. It makes me want to say something that hurts their feelings.
I’m not afraid to become that careless. But the gaps. Those darn gaps. In the queue at the grocery store, in the park, at the airport, in the car, by the bus stop, on the underground, on the overground, waiting for a loading bar, waiting for food, waiting for a friend. I fill in the gaps.
In these situations my body instinctively executes the oh-too-well practised manoeuvre of pulling up the phone out of my left pocket while pressing the home button and letting the feedback catapult my thumb into a slide across the bottom of the screen. My eyes stick.
This isn’t as much of a problems as it is a suspicion. A suspicion that there is more. More peace, more thought and little bit more life in leaving these gaps alone. To do nothing about them. Not to be bored (that’s overrated) but to find something interesting in your own head. That’s why we retreat to the screens in our pockets in the first place, isn’t it? To be amused. Dance monkey, dance.
If I go to the bathroom and I don’t find you staring down the eternal universe of a smartphone, you shall be asked: Are you out of batteries or are you in it for the extra life?
28 Sep 2012 / 1 note
Such a depressing ad.
26 Sep 2012 / 0 notes
I want to write a book. Just a short one but enough pages to mean something. Enough pages to hurt someone if my book was used as a weapon in a fight.
I’ll skip the years of patience, pain, laughs and experience required to write such a thing.
Jotting this down makes me realise that this will never happen unless I pursue this in my native language. It probably won’t happen anyway but why intentionally decrease the odds.
Turns out this wasn’t the beginning of a book but a blog post instead.
17 Sep 2012 / 0 notes