In my last post I wrote about my terribly lopsided education—all of it was languages and literature with a dash of history and mathematics. I do, however, think I have a shot at the Nobel Prize for Physics with my latest discovery—Subjective Time. Forget about Absolute Time and Relative Time and Newton and Einstein and the A-Theory and the B-Theory; let me introduce you to Subjective Time. I came across it twice last week.
As I was leaving the neurologist’s office, and my stated aim of celebrating the absurd demands I write more of him and his set-up later, I saw this handout at the check-out desk. It seems to stipulate in its fancy doctor language about presenting at the office that my appointment time is not my appointment time. My appointment time is a subjective concept that I should have known about, but didn’t. The whole business is obfuscated by this note at the top of my appointment card for my next appointment. Where does 10 a.m. appear on his philosophy sheet?
I might have ignored the whole business, but a couple of days later this notice appeared in my mail. In another rather bizarre concept of time, we see that Tuesday is Tuesday, except if you want to consider Monday is Tuesday.
I’ll send you all a postcard from Oslo.