when I get a girlfriend. It’s a terribly immature thought. But I am still likely to hope it might be true. I would in any case not exclude it.
Børre is happy with his day. I have given him a coin that he has deposited into his piggy bank. When I ask him what he is going to do with a bottle of Henna shampoo, he says he is going to give it to his mum. I can see he’s looking forward to it.
Outer Space
Børre is sleeping now. He was very tired. We were playing with his electric racing car track until long after he was supposed to be in bed. I let him win. And then we played a word game where you had to say the first word you could think of. Quickly. I had hoped it would be like I’d say sun, for example, and Børre summer, but it soon fell apart. Børre kept saying poo. No matter what I said, he’d say poo. And then he laughed a lot. But now he’s sleeping.
I went over to my brother’s flat and sent a fax to America. I wrote Volvo – full speed, forever. And sunshiny days.
I also fetched a woolly jumper. Now I’m sitting on Børre’s balcony drinking gin and tonic. His parents have a cupboard full of bottles. When I’ve drunk myself to courage, I plan to read on in the scary book about time. Now I’m reading. Paul writes about Einstein. I understand that Einstein is my friend.
It somehow appears to be integrated in his theory that past, present and future exist side by side. It’s one of the con-sequences of the theory of relativity. Naturally, I don’t grasp how it’s possible, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t give a shit about how it’s possible. The point is that I feel a little more at ease after having read it. I refill my glass and continue.
It excites me enormously to read that the experts (whoever they may be) disagree about the nature of time. Some of them want there to be defined, once and for all, a kind of universal time that can function as a measure of change, while others think one should declare the concept of time null and void, as non-existent. We can still have watches. We can keep measuring change in seconds and hours and years, but the idea of time as something which is just there is useless. The latter group has my full sympathy. As far as I am able to, I will lobby for the eventual recognition of their views.
All of this attracts me more and more. My existence is developing some distance from itself. Perspective. Perspective is one of those things one ought to be able to purchase and administer intravenously.
Paul’s not afraid of the big thoughts. He writes about eternity now. What’s important to know about eternity is that it’s not just a very big number, he says.
Eternity is something very different from what is simply vastly, incredibly huge. If the universe has unlimited time at its disposal, it does not simply mean that everything can happen. It means that everything will happen. No matter how improbable it is or how much time it will take, it will happen sooner or later. That means that if I were to live forever, I would do everything and experience everything. Something like that would only be interesting if my brain were able to think an infinite number of thoughts. I honestly don’t know if it is.
I put the book down to see if I can think of something. Something new. Anything. I close my eyes and take a few sips of gin and tonic. First I don’t think about anything in particular, but then I think about Lise. In a way it is a new thought. It’ll do. But there’s more. I see pictures. A combine harvester and a beach. And a fish. I don’t know whether or not I could call them thoughts, but at least it’s all new. I doubt if I’m imaginative enough to live forever.
Now Paul’s getting hardcore. He’s saying that everything points to the universe having had a precise beginning, and that it will also have an end. Paul says that one day, everything we know will disappear. That’s what he’s saying.
As a consequence of the Big Bang, the universe is
Børre is happy with his day. I have given him a coin that he has deposited into his piggy bank. When I ask him what he is going to do with a bottle of Henna shampoo, he says he is going to give it to his mum. I can see he’s looking forward to it.
Outer Space
Børre is sleeping now. He was very tired. We were playing with his electric racing car track until long after he was supposed to be in bed. I let him win. And then we played a word game where you had to say the first word you could think of. Quickly. I had hoped it would be like I’d say sun, for example, and Børre summer, but it soon fell apart. Børre kept saying poo. No matter what I said, he’d say poo. And then he laughed a lot. But now he’s sleeping.
I went over to my brother’s flat and sent a fax to America. I wrote Volvo – full speed, forever. And sunshiny days.
I also fetched a woolly jumper. Now I’m sitting on Børre’s balcony drinking gin and tonic. His parents have a cupboard full of bottles. When I’ve drunk myself to courage, I plan to read on in the scary book about time. Now I’m reading. Paul writes about Einstein. I understand that Einstein is my friend.
It somehow appears to be integrated in his theory that past, present and future exist side by side. It’s one of the con-sequences of the theory of relativity. Naturally, I don’t grasp how it’s possible, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t give a shit about how it’s possible. The point is that I feel a little more at ease after having read it. I refill my glass and continue.
It excites me enormously to read that the experts (whoever they may be) disagree about the nature of time. Some of them want there to be defined, once and for all, a kind of universal time that can function as a measure of change, while others think one should declare the concept of time null and void, as non-existent. We can still have watches. We can keep measuring change in seconds and hours and years, but the idea of time as something which is just there is useless. The latter group has my full sympathy. As far as I am able to, I will lobby for the eventual recognition of their views.
All of this attracts me more and more. My existence is developing some distance from itself. Perspective. Perspective is one of those things one ought to be able to purchase and administer intravenously.
Paul’s not afraid of the big thoughts. He writes about eternity now. What’s important to know about eternity is that it’s not just a very big number, he says.
Eternity is something very different from what is simply vastly, incredibly huge. If the universe has unlimited time at its disposal, it does not simply mean that everything can happen. It means that everything will happen. No matter how improbable it is or how much time it will take, it will happen sooner or later. That means that if I were to live forever, I would do everything and experience everything. Something like that would only be interesting if my brain were able to think an infinite number of thoughts. I honestly don’t know if it is.
I put the book down to see if I can think of something. Something new. Anything. I close my eyes and take a few sips of gin and tonic. First I don’t think about anything in particular, but then I think about Lise. In a way it is a new thought. It’ll do. But there’s more. I see pictures. A combine harvester and a beach. And a fish. I don’t know whether or not I could call them thoughts, but at least it’s all new. I doubt if I’m imaginative enough to live forever.
Now Paul’s getting hardcore. He’s saying that everything points to the universe having had a precise beginning, and that it will also have an end. Paul says that one day, everything we know will disappear. That’s what he’s saying.
As a consequence of the Big Bang, the universe is
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