simplicity

The Lonely Seagull likes to keep things simple. Too much clutter of any type just throws you off the trail of what you really should be doing. As some of you might have noticed, a surfeit of distracting and ultimately meaningless distractions has overwhelmed some sort of national contest lately. But the ceaseless quest for power is hardly the sole provenance of clutter and distractions; they adhere tenaciously to almost every aspect modern life.

Though still stuck in modern life, some people are trying to find ways to move beyond the unnecessary, toward something good and meaningful. This is hard work: If everything contains a distraction, where and how do you start sweeping away what you don't need?

Well, it could start anywhere--so why not start with "bike culture"? What should be one of the simplest pursuits has turned into a confusing and pretentious morass, argues a blog called Copenhagen Cycle Chic. They offer a case study of a typical (and hypothetical) Copenhagen bicyclist:

The bike she chose was a black one. Probably a good, reliable Danish brand like Kildemoes or Taarnby. It certainly wasn't a "TerraTurbo Urban Warrior X9000". It was just a bike. What it is called isn't important to her. Just the fact that it works.

She doesn't know how much it weighs. Nobody she knows or has ever met could tell you how much their bike weighs. Likewise, she doesn't know how far she rides each day. It isn't interesting. She rides at a good pace, not too fast to cause a sweat, and the ride is nice enough. She likes the fresh air and she often sees friends on the bike lanes. She loves crossing The Lakes and seeing the transformation from season to season. That will suffice.

This is a promising start. Next comes everything else.

(CCC tip via kottke)

death of philosophy

Philosophers, despite everything, die too. Some of them have done so in spectacularly odd ways. Simon Critchley, a British philosopher and failed activist, punk musician and poet, has collected some of the more outlandish tales of philospher's meeting their end (an end that doesn't necessarily mean a cessation of consciousness, according to AJ Ayer--number 9 on the list). The Guardian has Critchley's top ten posted on their website. Francis Bacon (1561-1626) comes in at number six (pardon the British punctuation):

During a particularly cold winter, Bacon was travelling with a Scottish physician and fell upon the idea that flesh might as well be preserved in snow as in salt. They got out of the carriage at the foot of Highgate Hill and bought a hen from a poor woman who lived there. Bacon then stuffed the hen with snow and was immediately taken ill with a chill. Unable to return home, he was put to bed at the Earl of Arundel's house in Highgate. Sadly, the bed was so damp that his condition worsened and, according to Hobbes, "in 2 or 3 days, he dyed of Suffocation".

(via The New Yorker's Book Bench)