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
08.03
09.03
10.03
11.03
12.03
01.04
02.04
03.04
04.04
05.04
06.04
07.04
08.04
10.04
11.04
12.04
01.05
02.05
03.05
04.05
05.05
06.05
07.05
08.05
09.05
10.05
11.05
01.06
02.06
04.06
05.06
06.06
07.06
10.06
11.06
12.06
01.07
02.07
03.07
04.07
05.07
06.07
07.07
08.07
09.07
10.07
11.07
12.07
01.08
05.08


18.4.04

What am i to do with all this fire?

(Through you, I see, I...)
Between a broken nose and a fake smile
Between piety and gunpowder
Between fighting and fleeing the scene
Between murder and diplomacy
Between aggression and in oblivion
Between brutal and realistically well behaved
Between slaving and pulling in the reins
Between tiptoeing and ambling
What am I to do with all this fire?
(I'd like to hit you, but I could never hit you.)
Would you stay with me in this red space?
(I'd like to slap you, but I could never slap you.)
Between violence and silently seething
Between my fist and my pollyanna flower
Between "Fuck you!" to your face and "It's all right."
Between war and denial.
Between violence and silently seething
Between my fist and my pollen flower
Between "Fuck you!" to your face and "It's all right."
Between war and denial.
Between flying vases and secretly weeping
Between loose cannons and ever downplaying
Between bruises and nobly deferring
Between bursting and boiling
What am I to do with all this burning?
(I'd like to hurt you, but I could never hurt you.)
Do I overwhelm you in this place?
(I'd like to kill you, but I could never kill you.)
Between violence and silently seething
Between my fist and my pollen flower
Between "Fuck you!" to your face and "It's all right."
Between war and denial.
Between violence and silently seething
Between my fist and my pollen flower
Between "Fuck you!" to your face and "It's all right."
Between war and denial.
What am I to do with all this fire?
Can you understand me in this place?

this song was given to me by chance, as one might say. it has been the only song able to define myself in every sense, the only one i could allow myself to think as my own, as a faithful description of my feelings about this behind my eyes. this bubble, this yearning, this amazingly frustrating permanence of me.__with a new notebook comes a new facing myself, a new frightening truthful perspective.
coming in through my ears::Atlantic/Björk