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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24.4.04

:: the barrier ::
of all the pages i may have written in my lifetime, of all the little letters scrambled across pieces of stretched cellulose, there are those dedicated to the inevitability of the "crashing and burning" of each one of our egos whilst being embarked in the somehow frightening travel of interpersonal relations.__these simple and probably naive cavilations have made me reticent to the idea of a communion between two people damned to spend their existence with their own identities; there is no way of escaping conflict and tortures, there is no way of being without being with one's self pulling and pushing in all directions, craving love and solitude simultaneously, loving and hating one's self all at the same time for that extenuating effort of being not only with someone, but being for someone.__ i used to think that there had to be a cause for such stupid behavior, some defect, some flaw that could be accounted for the contradictory nature of this type of behavior, i now think i found it.__it is more than simply plausible that we are driven to make up for ourselves by means of that other one who is just as tortured and just as pained by the nature of the existence given by the world: i now think that being with someone must constitute the one space to be, to say the least, at peace with identity.__and though there may not be even a chance, a farfeched possibility of ever getting across the abyss that separates two tortured beings, the simple act of getting closer to comprehending the nature of such pain and anguish is enough to justify the contradicting cravings, enough to make it worth the trip to this land that belongs to none and that i, for one, can never even begin to try to understand.
i can only, as always, speak for myself.__i have no say in what concerns other human beings, other people, other puddles of salty liquid behind other glassy capsules painted in other colors; i cannot pretend to be able to touch any nerves other of my own, i cannot escape being left alone with my salt by the end of the day.
i am now as confused as i could ever imagine, for the only thing i was convinced of being, convinced of believing, is being given to me by whom i could never have guessed, some strange creature by the name of A.__as it begun it will probably end.
coming in through my ears::(and eyes) Eyes Wide Shut