Burning Thoughts at Fahrenheit 451

Busy days in Buenos Aires follow busy days in Sao Paolo and my life is a blur of new information that I commit to processing and adding to without really knowing how. In between I worry about what do with all this information. Today I met with Mei Ling who has written a book and is writing another, through Vanessa who pointed out that in books lie the legitimacy and permanence of big thinkers. More immediate than books lie articles; 2000 word ones that Neal will pay me to write for Shareable.net and I haven’t even got there yet.

Maybe its because sometimes I feel like my mind has a mind of its own and I'm merely an observer taking photographs of my imagination. If that sounds like a poor attempt at wordplay, rest assured that its utterly literal...

 

 



 



I don’t really know where it comes from, or why I’m able to do it. I don’t really see myself as a writer or a big thinker. The world is overloaded with words, and big thinkers rarely create anything the person on the ground can use. But then today I read Fahrenheit 451, which is just stunning. A book about the power of books, and the dangers of simplification and the simplification of simplification, until the point where richness and complexity of thought become anathema. A pain to be avoided and destroyed. And then I started thinking about thinking and wondering what do with the stuff I create.

Hopefully at some point my mind will make up its mind and I’ll figure out what to write, and how I’m going to do it!