hesitant aranta


[foto de ºCHiViSº--flickr]

Nicomachean Ethics//Aristotle
Eudemian Ethics//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

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

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


:: teardrop ::
overwhelmed consciousness of things to come, nothing seems to vanish before those eyes i have spent so long staring at; while interrupted breath follows its path to nowhere i find my self holding on tightly to a truth i dare not speak of.__are you not the one that leads me where things unsaid find sanctuary? so lost and yet still standing not at all troubled by my faults, i see you with salted eyes, just here, just now.
coming in through my ears::Ragtime Nightingale//Lamb



:: knots ::
i remember having read a story once about a little blond girl with pearl-white skin and a black dress, it told about the bottle-green velvet lace around her neck.__it used to bother me that nothing about a button or a knot was mentioned, nothing about the means by which it stayed in its place throughout day and night and day; i felt amused and yet somehow discomforted by the lack of explanation given to the fact that that little piece of cloth maintained unison or unicity in the physical structure of such a creature.__ now, however, i find it not to be a problem for so many things remain unexplained and are in a way dependent of that particular nature; i must not search for the ultimate answer to the simpleness of some "happenings" in order to keep what little sign of sanity i may still have, there certainly is no need for struggle in what appears obvious.__what kind of bondage there may be between things that are naturally or necessarily together is not the thing to be in search of, not, at least, for the time come; but that alone does not seem to be enough to keep me from puzzling, it does not bring peace to my mind or comfort, rather it brings the terrible frustration of realizing that i am not one to know, or pretend to do so, things that escape the grasp of mere sight.__once she took it off, her head fell straight to the floor and everyone knew what purpose the little bottle-green velvet lace was serving, but the recognition of that purpose gave no information about the way or mechanisms put together in order to fulfill it, nothing was gained, nothing was lost.
coming in through my ears:: philosophical (?) discussions in the room next door



:: blemish ::
terrible thursday in the moist heat of the afternoon, growing tremor and humming of motorized vehicles around myself, irrecognizable voices uttering what i presume are discourses of diverse natures.__[that's my cue remember to press the little button where is it? ah, yes back door missed it i'll have to walk a mile in this horrid heat don't show it but red lips and face like a person from the mountain speak like drunken englishman have to read more often i have no sense of responsibility no not at all a little jam tokyo and the tourist syndrome getting off stung or is it otherwise verheiratet vergangenheit no knowledge of anything gorogoro and don't know yet what will come out of this run run before you fall parabolic turn around x squared and she won't be home today it's turning red naked arm why such discomfort? probably the pills no incontinence devious nature and perverse desire food haven't eaten why eggs? now it hurts got off walk].__took about fifteen steps towards the east and remembered there were more things waiting to be brought home, why am i always forgetting everything that seems to be of immense importance to those around me? maybe i am not able to think straight when the weather does not suit me, maybe i am always looking for conditions in which i would find it easy to let go of the necessity of paying attention.__so much has changed in such little time, it is hard to even recognize the patterns once thought to be un-changeable, i find myself having to face situations i kept running away from.__i hope the violet-yellow-green thing on my right forearm will vanish soon enough.
coming in through my ears::Sun in my Mouth/Björk



:: artifice ::
it took something more than two hours just to get here, it will take an entire lifetime to get over the feeling of misplacement.__perhaps i have always felt that way, i can't seem to remember the first time i realized there was nothing to keep me here, no, there's really nothing here.__why would i stay? why am i staying?__i don't want to think about it as i do when facing a burden, is it not a burden? an imposition, but one i can refrain from suffering... can i? can anybody? should anybody?__it all gets terribly complicated when the subject matter of discussion are the absent's interests, it seems we cannot help making decisions we have no right to make, it seems we can do no other thing than presume we grasp the meaning and inner workings of that foreign universe.__i would do everything and anything for a glimpse of the truth behind it all, but there is no such thing, i know it, it's all just chaotic and erratic and misleading regularities, happenings i mistake for facts, for steps in a causal regression, for causes and effects serving a greater purpose.__that may all be nonsense, the possibility of it being such used not to trouble me, but now, aside the comfortable efficiency of its explicative value, i know it helps less than it damages.__i wish not to think of her as the artifice of my doom.
coming in through my ears::Everybody's StepElla Fitzgerald



:: clinging ::
as i silently walked down the aisle i knew would lead to no place, thousands of random images clustered before me as if dancing to some bewitching music i was not allowed to hear; the erratic nature of it all made my stomach turn and my blood turn into salted water.__ i dare not say i was afraid, though i know i still am; things left unsaid are the ones that can damage me the most in times of uncertain possibilities.__but struggle as i may, humbleness finds its way throughout my thoughts; i am left beaten and strapped to my own delusions, though not at all abandoned.
here is the one that can lead me out of the maze keeping me from the violent strain and wicked laughter of demented torturers, here is the beauty and the grandness laid by my side in nights of horrid anguish, here you are, left un-beaten and un-tied.
coming in through my ears::LentoJulieta Venegas.