Viss ir redzams

Āāāprāts, cik forši....... ^^



via suic

Dzeru litriem sulas no Johana Korina (viņš tēvam labs draugs) ābeļu diždārza un domāju, vai ir vērts degradēt savu žurnālu līdz tāda tipa spontāniem pukstiem kā, piemēram, "Saule ir zvērs," "Kā man patīk ozolzīles," "Tu būsi Elšpūtī" vai, teiksim, "Šodien man vislabāk iet internetā..." Nē. Tikai, lūdzu, nepārproti, man nav ne mazāko iebildumu pret šāda rakstura frāzēm savā draugu lentā – gluži otrādi (protams, vienmēr novērtēju saturīgus, informatīvus ierakstus – tādus, kā manējie :) Bet ja nu kādam ir iebildumi, (tmi) utml., vienmēr var parullēt zemāk... Arī lai šis puksts nebūtu gluži pliks bez satura, lūk, saite uz vienu varenu fenomenu latviešu populārfilozofiskajā literatūrā:



(.pdf ar Valda Egles komentāriem)

"Kartona kareivjus" lasījis neesmu

Dižais Gars bliež ar Heraklītu (Bereļa recenzija)

Johans Korins: Domāt bez tēliem (intervija apollo)

Jāiet līdz galam:

Mans vecvectēvs bija jūrnieks, kuģa kapteinis (dzīvoja Odesā)
Vectēvs - ķīmiķis (LU profesors un brīvās Latvijas basketbola izlasē)
Tēvs - fiziķis (no turienes arī dotības ;)
Māte - bioloģe (brāļi programmētāji)
Es - man ir divas nepabeigtas augstākās... toties abas sākas ar mīlestību

If you imagine the 4,500-bilion-odd years of Earth’s history compressed into a normal earthly day, then life begins very early, about 4 A.M., with the rise of the first simple, single-celled organisms, but then advances no further for the next sixteen hours. Not until almost 8:30 in the evening, with the day five-sixths over, has Earth anything to show the universe but a restless skin of microbes.

Then, finally, the first sea plants appear, followed twenty minutes later by the first jellyfish and the enigmatic Ediacaran fauna first seen by Reginald Sprigg in Australia. At 9:04 P.M. trilobites swim onto the scene, followed more or less immediately by the shapely creatures of the Burgess Shale. Just before 10 P.M. plants begin to pop up on the land. Soon after, with less than two hours left in the day, the first land creatures follow.

Thanks to ten minutes or so of balmy weather, by 10:24 the Earth is covered in the great carboniferous forests whose residues give us all our coal, and the first winged insects are evident. Dinosaurs plod onto the scene just before 11 P.M. and hold sway for about three-quarters of an hour. At twenty-one minutes to midnight they vanish and the age of mammals begins. Humans emerge one minute and seventeen seconds before midnight.

The whole of our recorded history, on this scale, would be no more than a few seconds, a single human lifetime barely an instant. Throughout this greatly speeded-up day continents slide about and bang together at a clip that seems positively reckless. Mountains rise and melt away, ocean basins come and go, ice sheets advance and withdraw. And throughout the whole, about three times every minute, somewhere on the planet there is a flash-bulb pop of light marking the impact of a Manson-sized meteor or one even larger. It’s a wonder that anything at all can survive in such a pummeled and unsettled environment. In fact, not many things do for long.

— Bill Bryson, A Short History of Nearly Everything

Our Mr. Sun (1956)

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