going through old emails, i stumble across old musings..
they represent glimpses, momentary fragments of headspace, occasionally interspersed with emotional input - too rare to lose for posterity :)
mind that these posts are not current thoughts and things ski says, altho i suspect these issues dont become obsolete too quickly in my particular little life..

here's one noted down while flying high:
Amsterdam - Addis Ababa - Lusaka December 2002
It is a bizarre sight - flying along what feels like a straight North-South axis - with an almost full moon (that time of the month again) shining brightly at me to my left, and, five seats and two aisles over, the last hues of yellow, orange and purple making way for the blues of early evening entering the brightly lit airplane to my right. Jumps to mind the commonly referred to and allround accepted notion of leaving The West and going to The South. Going South is certainly true, but leaving The West?
A few more hours to go until a lightning speed plane change in Addis and an onward journey delivering me in Lusaka at 4am - only an hour difference in that artificial time-zone system, and that only since a little while. A few weeks back there was no difference in the hours in which my Collegues From The South and I showered in the morning, logged into our communication systems to wish eachother a good day, Iwe! Mulishani!, took our lunchbreaks, and logged off for the day. No difference - except in how we as individuals chose to complete our idiosyncratic timetables. But now winter has arrived - and, being control-freaks from the North-West, we adjust our artificially constructed reality of 60 minute chunks to conquer the to us so inconvenient ways of Nature. So, now reality in Lusaka is an hour ahead of reality in The Hague or Paris or Nuernberg. One hour less for me to read all I need to read and write all I need to write.
Just having finished my lunch and looking out over what is now a pitch black sky on both sides of me, my bodily systems are no longer convinced that what they have just devoured was indeed a midday meal - I can feel sleepiness encroaching, and by the looks of my fellow passengers, my body isnt the only one that is confused.
No major differences in time zones, an almost straight North-South line of travel, a half-day spent lounging on trains and in airport gates, and still, as the sunlight leaves us and the moon does all it can to compensate, as we fly over forests, towns, cities, nations and continents, the human bodies on this vehicle jetting through the skies all quietly nod off and take their rest.
Are these thoughts rummaging around my head because I will be witnessing a phenomenon of nature of which I have been told it has the power to interrupt schedules adhered to by nature day after day after endless day? When the sun is out, daytime beings are full of life - when the sunlight is obscured, be it by the earth or by the moon - the systems propelling daytime beings ever forward ever onward in life are put on standby, as if by a simple ON-OFF switch.
But before my day-time being is conquered by the shades of night around me, I must return to the book that is beconing me. The Social Organisation of Innovation. Much different from the Social Shaping of Technology? Much different from many of those books I've perused over all these years? But one anecdote has already been glimpsed,and - as been done since grade 7 - it must be transcribed for posterity, and increased chances of sticking around in my cratered memory. Here goes:
"When the centipede was asked in which order he moved his hundred legs, he became paralysed and starved to death because he had never thought of it before and had left his legs to look after themselves." A warning for the weeks ahead?