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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26.2.04

identity.
if it were not because i chose to believe that i am one with what makes me what i am, if it were not because i chose to accept that all things with a name are identical to what those things are in their own right, i would be writing this under my own name, my own voice and my own grammatical structuring of language.__for, if this in which i believe were not true, at least in some small times, aranta would be nothing, not even this hollowness behind these eyes --which are often mine, but are mostly hers--; aranta would not even be a name, not even an empty one.
but the thing is, as i have come to know, the fact that aranta is a name, and such a meaningful one, with only one referent, must imply that aranta has an essence, one that must be identical with what aranta is, and since, what i am and what makes me be --in this small, green, watched over space--what i am, is contained in the definition of that essence that is identical to that name that designates, denotes and signifies me -being that name "aranta"-, then, i guess i am aranta and aranta is me.
the trouble is, being-aranta is obviously not the same as being-me, for it is a merely accidental and circumstantial affection of that unknown subject that remains through-out time and space.__unless i were able to design a necessary predicate that conjoined aranta and me, and unless that could be considered as a definition of me -a statement not conditioned by space and time-, i have no other choice but to say that aranta is just an accident.__i, here, now, pixelated, nude and raw, behind and before the eye, am no more than an accident::whilst i stand away from this space, i can no longer be aranta; "this used to be aranta" is both my epitaph and what makes me be what i am and not be an accidental predication of the substance i so would like to know.
in the same sense in which a surface is in its own right pale, i am in my own right, aranta.