hesitant aranta



depicted

[foto de ºCHiViSº--flickr]

incoming
Nicomachean Ethics//Aristotle
Eudemian Ethics//Aristotle
Poetics//Aristotle
De Anima//Aristotle
Cause, Necessity and Blame//Richard Sorabji
The Fragility of Goodness//Martha C. Nussbaum
Essays on Aristotle's Ethics//Amelie Rorty (editor)
Aristotle's Theory of Action//David Charles
Aristotle on Moral Responsibility//Susan S. Meyer
The Fabric of Character//Nancy Sherman
Choosing Character//Jonathan Jacobs
Aristotle's Psychology//Daniel N. Robinson

Volta//Björk
Medùlla//Björk
Vespertine//Björk
Vespertine Live at the Royal Opera House//Björk

Carbon Monoxide//Marlboro Reds
caffeine in not so large ammounts

a whole lotta love

secondary bibliography

overt influences
straying

[...]
Wie ich mechanisch eine neue Zigarrette drehe und die braunen Stäubchen mit feinem Prickeln auf das weißgelbe Löschpapier der Schreibmappe niedertaumeln, will es mir unwarscheinlich werden, daß ich noch wache. Und wie die feuchtwarme Abendluft, die durch das offene Fenster neben mir hereingeht, die Rauchwölkchen so seltsam formt und aus dem Bereich der grünbeschirmten Lampe ins Mattschwarze trägt, steht es mir fest, daß ich schon träume.
Da wird's natürlich schon ganz arg; denn diese Meinung wirft der Phantasie die Zügel auf den Rücken. Hinter mir knackt heimlich neckend die Stuhllehne, daß es mir jäh wie hastiger Schauder durch alle Nerven fährt. Das stört mich ärgerlich in meinem tiefsinnigen Studium der Bizarren Rauchschriftzeichen, die im mich irren, und über die einen Leitfaden zu ferfassen ich bereits entschlossen war.
Aber nun ist die Ruhe zum Teufel. Tolle Bewegung in allen Sinnen. Fiebrisch, nervös, wahnsinnig. Jeder Laut keift. Und mit all dem verwirrt steigt Vergessenes auf. Einst dem Sehsinn Eingeprägtes, das sich seltsam erneut; mit dem Fühlen dazu von damals. [...] Vision. Proza-Skizze//Thomas Mann.


past utterances
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13.9.03

This is complicated, terribly complicated...... happiness is the strangest feeling in the world. this concert has been something beyond human capacity of understanding... seven years have not gone in vain... three seconds of a kind stare are very much what i expected, and yet, not enough to make me think that is where it stops. It is very weird being surrounded by people who believe that true admiration lies in the numbing of the sensibility of the object of such emotive rush, while i am perhaps just a quiet observer, one who tries to dig deep in that which is not entirely new. i don't like very much the fact that she only looked down for a couple of seconds, in my extremely rational way of living, the fact that it was no more than a couple of seconds, makes me think that i did not exist long enough in her retina to become a memorable fact, but being there, feeling alive again, perfectly alone, swimming in a sea of unescrutable personalities whit whom i only share a limited portion of time and space. Happiness is overwhealming, i'm scared to my gut to wake up and realize that even in my fictions i can be more of a person than in most of the time i have to carry this burden of being with ME. But i AM happy, i have died today and been reborn as a thirteen-year-old, exactly where i was almost seven years ago when a little song - which, by the way, no one else seems to enjoy as much as i do- called wake up triggered something in my head and made me realize that solipsism is not possible because of the existence of such individuals i could never be, therefore, never make up. it has been a rescue. i am extatic.