Secret Dream of Deduction Aug 10, 2008
Posted by herraheri in Herra the Heri, M. L'éléphant.Tags: Deduction, Detective Fiction, Holmes, Linguistics
add a comment
Just yesterday I happened to read an interview in some magazine whose name I cannot remember. In fact, the person interviewed, some cognitivistic linguistic claimed that he painted the brain in many colours. Colours for joy, love, happiness, drunkeness etc. etc.
Well, a colourful brain is not very stunning. In deed a small image query on any search engine on the web will find you a coloured brain. Surprisingly enough, the linguistic also told the journalist that deduction as we know it from detective fiction is a way of structural influence of the brain to the real world, meaning that the strict logical form of deduction shapes the world by its terms.
Consequently, Sherlock Holmes is creating criminals and criminal cases by his strict use of his deductive faculty. And Watson? Maybe his role is somehow the deductive trigger or a quite paradox paranoid projection of a facette of Sherlocks identy. Who knows. Undoubted.
Why Unhappiness Is A Bee Aug 3, 2008
Posted by herraheri in M. L'éléphant.Tags: Bad Mood, Bee, Hot, Summer, Unhappiness
add a comment
Just silent. Wind is slowly humming in hot breezes through the little trees which have been planted on the right and left side of the small road in the city of a small French town: Montlucon. Summer is idle. The morning air smells of early summer-sunday coffee. On late saturday night it even rained. Rain that covered the city in the aromatic smell of rain drops on hot asphalt, red street light bulbs, the silent whistling of tires and the magic realism of flashes und thunder. Calm. An idle day, perfect. Bees are humping from flower to flower. Honey. Summerstung.
Inside the little flat summer is hard boiled. White words and black minds in a fatal martial arts battle for righteousness and self-esteem. The windows are open, blossoms awaiting the joy of summer sounds and air. Incommidity, Inconvenient. Inside, glas is dull. Dull and harmfull. Blackness is lacking every lightbeam while words once tied together struggle to unpronounce or regrammaticize. Outside, in the little French gardens, bees are unaffected. Humming and Humping.
Red. Summer has an aggressive side. Heat and violence can hurt. Honey may turn into vinegar. Salt into poison. One stitch. One try. One trial. Humming, Humping, unhappiness in flowers, honey its essence. Bees its carrier.
Herra Héri 