Another Sunday, Another Naive Weekly — Observations From The Internet Wilderness.
It has been a wonderful year on my little island. Being landlocked I have walked the same streets through all four seasons. Appreciating spring flowers, summer nights, and fall colours. As the year is coming to an end I can almost taste the biting winter too; with cold feet, red cheeks and steamy breath.
Next to me, Ana has been walking for the entire year. Seeing how her eyes light up when she catches a moving shadow is one of life’s biggest gifts. And with her camera, she has captured all those vulnerable moments that make up a year but are too subtle to remember.
It is touching to revisit the year through Ana's photo archive. We started the year with the two of us and a secret. On July 30th, Uno was born. He is the best human in the universe. He approaches the most mundane objects with the greatest curiosity and gives us the widest smile at any point of the day, and night.
Keeping to tradition, the final newsletter edition of the year is different from the rest. It consists of the thought patterns from the seven notebooks I've filled during the year and my resolutions for next year (see 2019 and 2018). I also have one big reveal to end the year. So please keep on reading.
Happy New Year,
THE REVEAL: NAIVE WEEKLY PRINT
I’m very pleased to reveal the Naive Weekly Print. It is a limited edition riso print in A3 made by graphic designer and illustrator Luka Santl. I commissioned Luka to make his artistic interpretation of the newsletter and I am beyond happy with the result.
You can buy the print for €30. The price includes shipping. In case you’d love to receive the print but are struggling financially, a paying subscriber, or had a bad year, please just reply to this email and we’ll find an option where you just cover cost.
ABOUT THE PRINT
“This illustration approaches the essence of what Naive Weekly represents to me: to go out into the internet wilderness. To forage, gather and curate the tastiest bits of information for the reader.
I imagine Kristoffer's process as a crow, curiously collecting matter and rearranging it into new orders. Offering fresh interpretations or delivering it to those of us, to whom our internet horizons have become stale and predictable.
There is something deeply mindful about how Kristoffer approaches technology. With his intuition he glances over it with a watchful eye. Careful to not over-eagerly fall for its influence, yet never discarding it’s potential.”
— Luka Santl.
I have edited together the text below by mixing together snippets from the books I have read in 2020. It includes, but is not limited to the works by Olga Tokarczuk, Haruki Murakami, Tove Ditlevsen, Laura Watts, and Ursula K. Le Guin. I won’t give you a booklist but would love to receive yours.
Sisyphus Lost at Sea
Earthquakes are strange and mysterious. We take it for granted that the earth beneath our feet is solid. But one day we see that it isn’t true. The earth turns as mushy as liquid and our houses collapse. We are lost at sea.
In the morning there is hope again. In the middle of the storm, we freeze time and draw maps of meaning from calculated predictions. A promised land is emerging on the horizon. A future worth investing in. From bust to boom.
Things do not flow, they are always carried. Also futures. There are many futures in theory, but in practice some people have to decide where to invest. In health and ecology, things that grow unchecked are considered cancerous. In startups, it is a hockey stick of rewarding growth.
Every morning, as we scout for safe land, we make the same mistake, taking clouds for land. For some a fatal tragedy, for other business as usual. Always in motion, with no time for idle meditations, we set directions to new horizons. Everything exchangeable because everything is a commodity.
Sideways Shadows of Black Screens
Even while lost at sea, everything seems new and clean, virginal and immortal. Like fruits grown by artificial lights we are over-stimulated. There is no possibility of silence. It is all about making a public and vocal record. We are a nocturnal bird caught in endless daylight.
Light has changed from freedom to order. Only noticeable in its absence, like our faces mirroring in the black screen. It is at dusk, when the light is fading, that the most interesting things occur, for that is when simple differences fade away. One must keep one’s eyes and ears open, one must know how to match up the facts, see similarities where others see total differences.
I could live in everlasting dusk. Waiting for the new moon, and the dark sky. Seeking a safe place to rest during the day in a vacant attic. That empty, dim, silent place. Let reality be inexpressible. Travel far with little luggage. Because neither hope nor despair knows how to teach us to play string figures with companion species.
Search for Gifts to Frogs
Suddenly total silence fell, and I found myself right in the middle of it. That’s how fire works in the natural landscape. It brings total destruction, but from that destruction comes fertility and new life. None of us are born between the branches of trees. Pregnancy in a pandemic.
Raising a child is like moving a stone. Moving a stone is like landing on the dark side of the moon. If you don’t believe me, come and visit us. Unless you have been here and seen the size of the stone, you don’t know. I understand how you might feel, but if you put those feelings into words they will turn into lies.
Smooth functioning is always a myth. As a nocturnal bird, you know this. You don’t see progress, only recurrence. You see the little ghosts of grocery stores in every corner you reach. Pure form seeking content. You see the humans on the boat in the wild storm on the deep sea. Fighting with all their limbs. But you know that the ocean keeps no record of effort. Soon those humans will be too exhausted to keep on basking.
However, the wind changes direction if you wait long enough. So what could be cooler than writing a letter for the cicadas and frogs and spiders, and the summer grasses and the wind?
My overall focus this year is intentions. To pause a moment and consider why I do something before throwing myself at it, but also to have the courage to act. In proper goal setting this means:
Slow Steps — On average I want to move 12,000 daily steps. Putting one foot in front of the other seems to help me find clarity in my messy thoughts.
Vulnerable Projects — I want to launch four personal projects. Adding to the internet my own roadside flowers.
Repeat Reading — I want to revisit three of my favourite books. There is also newness in the old.
Hi, I’m Kristoffer and you have just read Naive Weekly — Observations from the Internet Wilderness.
2020 has been an incredible year for Naive Weekly. Ben designed the beautiful logo. Ana provided her incredible photographs for the opening. And now Luka created our very own print. On top of that more than 450 readers joined and hundreds stayed along the entire year. Thank you to everyone.
Also an extra thank you to my mom and Bertel for becoming paying readers. It is heartwarming to receive your support. Just like it was heartwarming to join Mikkel and Esben on public radio to talk about Internet rabbit holes (in Danish).
Last week this newsletter was sent to 690 people. Thirtytwo are crazy enough to chip in every month/year to support me making time to write this newsletter: Nikolaj, Lars, Ditte, Jakob, Antal, Anders, Sascha, Cecilie, Søren, Dries, Tina, Gautier, Sarper, Maarten, Mystery x2, Joshua, Thomas, Mikkel, Aydo, Lukas, Hans, Vibe Johanne, Csongor, Dad, Yinka, Stine, Troels, William, Mom, Bertel & Angela!
Photograph by Ana Santl.