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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26.7.04

:: Tod und Leben ::
come forth with dilated pupils, trembling hands and heavy feet; refrain from bringing inside your heart, liver and mind.__these dark walls are not to be mistaken for your self-imposed barriers, this filth and humidity are not to be interpreted as your tears, this life must never be thought of as your own.
hours passed without my paying heed to them, and with the ever present motion of the capsules came the silence i was once submerged in, the silence i thought i longed for; an echo, a voice, the reminiscence of the beauty i was allowed in what now appears extremely far, the remembrance of the feel of human touch.__i stood still where i landed, imposibilitated to utter a word, to overlap the pain with simplistic cavilations, isolated with the skull within my eyes; water began to come down in a manner equatable with my lust for living, accelerated torrents washed down the pain and confusion leaving me only with the acrid smell of the decay i've been made into.
i gave them my blood, they took it knowing that it meant nothing, they drank it carelessly, fattening themselves with my life, leaving me sore and swollen, marked for-ever with a million scarlet blemishes.__and then a swift blow and seven fell under my fist, not a sound, no regrets, no more of me flying away from myself.
stand back with contracted pupils, steady fists and swift feet; keep to youself your heart, liver and mind.__this glass tunnel is the only subterfuge, no more water is to come; life is soon to be recovered.
quench your thirst.
coming in through my ears::Climbing up the walls/Radiohead

 


23.7.04

::interlude ::
for living is said in many ways, some can only live at the expense of other lives.__some can only tie themselves to what is buried deeper, reaching higher; some can only quench the thirst by means of decay.__some of us are bound to living with a skull within the pupils, with the ever growing presence of the overpowered wrath against the peace and comfort of what lies beneath the hard covered capsules.__and thus i chose to feed off of my own blood, to choke on my own tail while searching for some eternity. __is it possible for me to live by not letting me do so?
coming in through my ears::the terrible noise of the city

 


15.7.04

:: focus ::
the problem is, really, trying to focus on what is so very close.__ i'll try, instead, to keep green and yellow within my capsules, to make life a part of what i can see.
coming in through my ears::Otro Ser/Andrés Gualdrón

 


9.7.04

:: motion ::
what is, exactly, the difference between living and not doing so? it seems i can no longer tell; the lack of criteria for making a clean division of what matters for being called "living" impossibilitates the exercise of predication. maybe what happens to the living is the same as what happens with butterflies and lilies and in some degree with heavy water, the living may never be allowed a proper designator. for now, after a couple of hard studied and enormously painful steps, i believe i can safely say i'm back at where i started: the realm of the un-dead.
though i know walking is by no means proof of life, motion, as it is now, means only the recognition of the deceiving nature of calm and silence; so you were right, solipsism could never be an answer, i am not one to sit silently -blinded, deaf and reticent to contact-::there is still much to do with this almost 'burnt out' fire.
aranta wa sekai ni shinaseraremashita, demo, itsuka ikitai
coming in through my ears::Fake Plastic Trees/Radiohead