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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26.4.04

:: hush ::
there are things not meant to be spoken of.__most of my life and perspectives are not meant to be spoken of, that is probably why i have so much trouble while being in contact with verbal -spoken- expression, maybe it is the reason why i won't give way to my cavilations in voiced intercourse.__and this always happens, i speak and tremble whilst doing so, and i cross my arms and lower my eyebrows and take my eyes out of focus and divert and explore and shiver and shake and stop all of a sudden and then turn away with somehow meaningless words.__i should not speak and should not try to do all those things that this path evidently presupposes and demands, i should not be here spreading my overwhelming stupidity, denouncing my lack of attention for important matters, my fear and vulnerability in front of those colored crystal capsules.__i've felt how my self-trust vanished while speaking, my dark reminiscence of past chaos become vivid, become frightengly present, become my only possible experience as of now.__and how disappointed i am of myself, and how sad and rage-driven i feel now for enunciating those words, those memories that i once hoped would turn to nothing; "it is better to be silent and seem stupid than to speak and prove it".
but this blog, as my many notebooks, is a way of being not at all me, not at all write, not at all speak, not at all fear, not at all hear myself.__this certain kind of anonymity is somehow freshening, somehow threatening, obvioulsy pathetic, as all things concerning myself are.__ i now remember a post once written "these are rather troublesome times", all my life is a troublesome time... i dare not be myself while being with me, i dare not speak while i am with someone, i dare not see eyes when i listen, i dare not write when i feel there would be nothing in the world that could bring more pleasure and ease.__i cannot draw anymore, i cannot sleep anymore, i could never cry but i suddenly crave doing so, i cannot tell between my egos, i cannot stop hesitanting.
srguillot: you are right, there seems to be no sense in my studying philosophy... i have been thinking about that for a very long time now. amanda: you were always right, i was not made for this. aranta: you were dead, i don't recall when or how you came back.
coming in through my ears::Don't drink the water/Dave Mathews Band ft. Alanis Morissette