Scandinavian archaeology, history, skepticism, books and music
July Pieces Of My Mind #3
If all goes well we’ve got less than 18 months left of this appalling nonsense from the White House.
Peter F. Hamilton’s universe, several hundred years into the future, is technologically futuristic but culturally contemporary. People listen to rock music and wear denim. The Guide Michelin is still rating restaurants even on other planets. He is not interested in making up unfamiliar culture.
I’m more than halfway through with my translation of Nils Mattsson Kiöping now. Looking forward to hitting the Royal Library to read up on the secondary literature for the introduction and additional annotation. He mentions a lot of small towns in Asia that aren’t easy to identify on current maps, particularly when their names are spelled by a 17th century Swede and then misprinted by Johann Kankel.
Cousins L and J drove and rowed me to a desert island!
Haha, Ted Chiang is awesome. In his new collection Exhalation is a story about deeply religious people who have a heliocentric cosmology and believe that God made the universe specifically for them. Then their astronomers discover that the universe is actually geocentric. And it’s centred on a planet in a nearby star system, not on their own world. 😀
You know how annoying Autocorrect is? Chances are, you’re almost always writing in the same language. Imagine how annoying this thing is for me, flipping constantly between Swedish and English.
OMG, Nils Mattsson Kiöping is such an asshole. When he and his buddies hear that Hindus in Surat hold all life sacred, they catch a bunch of fleas, go to a Hindu household, kill some fleas in front of them and demand a ransom for the remaining ones. Having made some money this way, they buy pigeons from some Muslims and then go back to the Hindus to extort more money!
Note to prospective parents: your kids will grow up and leave.
I haven’t listened to any music recently, so my brain has amused itself by playing fragments of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” and “Take The Long Way Home” on repeat for several days.
I found the calling card of an Italian real estate agent in a Bruce Chatwin essay collection from the library. Her office is in Rome, just a short walk from the Vatican.
I have an odd architecture of the throat where pills get stuck. Imagine miserable hours of tasting penicillin as a pill fragment slowly dissolves. Now I’ve discovered an excellent way to get stuff down the chute: a big spoonful of oatmeal porridge.