Apparently "Rickety Rocket" is a 70s/80s cartoon series about four teenagers and their rickety rocket. Does anybody remember it? I don't. Because at that time I was pooing my pants, a day was a month, a month was a lifetime and the universe was the wide open park adjacent to the place where I grew up...
Monday, April 19, 2010
After Rickety Rocketry has hibernated for over a year, I decided to start a new blogging project documenting my somewhat megalomaniac, hopeless and pretty stupid goal of running across the Alps in 2012 in a single day. More information at
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Far from being a maths genius, I did have a fascination with numbers as a child. I had an imaginary football club where each player was represented by a marble, with his own stats for stamina, skill and fitness. And yet later, I would employ that system to rate the girls in my class by character, looks and overall score. It was an attempt to hold on to a childhood dreamworld in the face of hard hitting puberty. As a child counting was my drive for many things - walking in the mountains ("let's reach 3000 meters altitude!!"), running the 50 meters as fast as possible, imagining the size of population of my imaginary planet (yes! I did have an imaginary planet! Ha!) and, of course - the stairs: When I was six or so, I had an obsession with counting steps on stairs during walks with my father. I remember reaching the number 10,000 after a week of counting and it made me increadibly proud. I loved counting. And felt like the count, until there was some maths wizz-kid in our primary school class who really was the count for all of us - he would always win at maths games against the whole rest of the class and later even participate in the German school maths olympics. But also him was just a puny shadow compared this man:
Yesterday, I came across a documentary about Daniel Tammet, a prodigious savant who was diagnosed with epilepsy as a child and Asperger's syndrome later. Recently, he learned German within a week - as he did with Icelandic a few years ago. He can remember the number
Pi up to the 25,000th digit and he can do the most difficult and intricate calculations in his head.
The special thing about him, however, is that he is able to communicate much of his inner life to the outside world, unlike other prodigious Asperger's. I'm deeply impressed by how he describes his inner life, his days are literally numbered. Calculations become imaginary landscapes and when he talks about it, it is quite poetic.
I have my own memory of what it is or was like to have a private imaginary world. But while my fascination with numbers, like that of many kids, was actually counting, Daniel Tammet seems to be doing something else - he reads them and wields the results like a poet would do with a phrase. In his world, language, numbers and emotion are intertwined. Numbers are actually living things, beautiful, intriguing or scary. For him numbers are an integral, necessary part of everything. Like in that Frank Black song -
Beyond below above
A gravity that slumbers
At the center of
Places named after numbers
A different kind of love
Thank you for the picture, Heidi Rettig.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
1. It will all come down before the fires of hell
2. You let me in your house with a hammer
3. Rock that candy shop, set it on fire
Here comes the song - "Candy Shop" by "Fatima Spar und die Freedom Fries", an austrian band...
Spenden kostet hier nämlich garnix. Und das funktioniert so:
1. Ihr kauft was im Internet ein
2. Der Onlineshop zahlt dafür eine kleine Provision, ohne das sich der Einkaufspreis erhöht (Die Provision ist teilweise ziemlich gut, es bringt also was...).
3. Das philippinenbüro profitiert von der Provision
Mehr Infos gibt's bei clicks4charity.de (bitte benutzt aber den Toolbar hier auf dem Blog, wenn Ihr uns unterstützen wollt...)
Das ganze sieht dann so aus:
Ich kann Euch schon hören - "Seelenverkäufer" ... "Konsumsklaverei" ... etcpp. Aber glaubt mir, wir machen uns hier jeden Tag tonnenweise Gedanken um politische Morde, Landreform, böse Bergbauprojekte und Kredit-, Reis- und Wirtschaftskrisen und irgendwoher muss die Kohle ja kommen. Also - bitte installieren. Aber im Zweifelsfall trotzdem beim kleinen Tante Emma Laden um die Ecke einkaufen gehen. Denn sonst gibt's den irgendwann auch nicht mehr...
Monday, January 12, 2009
Rikey, however, is a racist misconception of Asian English accents used predominantly by white heterosexual young males as a humoristic element in popular language. It connotes “like”, i.e. implying bad grammar and pronunciation as in “likey”. Here is a very good example.
Now, if you don’t know what I’m on about, I don’t blame you. You may even think “is there a single person in this world who would understand that kind of mumbo jumbo?!”
I can guarantee you that there is. And she’s a maverick tingle massage.
Monday, December 1, 2008
I wish I could write something about distance and how it makes me feel.
Transcending the here and now somehow doesn’t work my way today.
So, forget the hypothesis. Long live experience.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
In dieser Situation hilft eigentlich nur etwas Warmes im Bauch, ein gutes Buch, ein Anruf, Bier, Kaffee oder Spaziergang mit Freunden, mit Kindern spielen; Programmkino, Pfefferminztee oder einfach nur ein aufregender Wichs im gemütlichen Prädormitium --- Witze sind wärmstens zu empfehlen und Wärmeflaschen auch nicht schlecht. Gibt es Theater, Kunst, Disko oder ein Konzert zieht’s mit mp3s im Ohr wippenden Schrittes dorthin, wohin die nasskalte Dunkelheit die Menschen treibt. Dort verleiht man seinen Kopf, Geld und Witz und hofft - auf die Nonchalance der getigerten Seele, Schneeballschlachten und flockige Ingrid Bergmann Küsse, die Wangen apfelrot dank innerer Wärme und vielleicht duften fremde Haare nach Winterluft. Währenddessen verkriechen sich Klimawandel und Desillusion vor lauter Sehnsucht zwischen den heimischen Sofafalten.
Thank you Bev for the cat...
Thank you Beautiful South for those Ingrid Bergmann kisses and thank you F.C. Delius for "Ich leihe Dir meinen Kopf".