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|September 1999 October 1999 Paint Bomb Seven Six Five December 1999 January 2000||
|Monday, 8 November 1999|
The daylight saving time has ended.
The winterly darkness falls early in the evening, late afternoon.
It's still autumn but the mental winter has begun already.
Holland is looks yellow and orange. Trees drop their leafs. In my perception those leaves had just grown, as if spring has just ended. Time flies. It seems like time is flying faster all the time. To a child a year lasts an eternity. Later it seems that you're celebrating your birthday every month.
Another example: The Dutch band "Doe Maar" (www.../doemaar/virus.htm) is back in business, experiencing an unprecedented revival. How could I have known that my Nut from 3 weeks ago would be so predictive. In my perception the Doe Maar band had just seized to exist, I can still hum along all their songs. It appears that they split up some 20 years ago, oops.
Obviously my perception of time is very subjective. I think to myself: "Time is the sequences in which events become irreversible". A toddler gets new impressions all the time, a bombardment of irreversible additions to memory. When life experience grows, the number of new impressions decreases. The personal perception of time slows down, objective time seems to accelerate.
This line of thoughts forces me to redefine the scale of age. It starts slowly with an agonising long youth. The larger part of your subjective lifetime is at school. After that a career and retirement just flash by.
Finally a redefinition of "middle age". Of course it is in the centre, on a logarithmic scale. The mid life crisis reaches it's height when you are eight years old. I assume you've grown over it.
· Paint Bomb
· December 1999
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