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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3.11.04

:: permanence ::
on february the second, being a non-school day, i walked a couple of blocks across an unknown neighborhood in search for an answer to the itching on the back of my head.__all dressed in red i found myself questioning a woman i would learn to avoid about lessons and prices and such assets.__saturday morning from eight to ten was to be the time spent every week in order to make progress in what she called "one of the most beautiful and compelling things to learn"; there was no deceit in those words, but the reason i now agree with myself to say so is that aside from the effort it took to simply start, the constant presence of a particular individual whose encouraging words and tender manner became the magnetic field keeping me close to that place i know is not at all worthy of praise.__it would not be right to say i was -and am still- not addicted to the process of learning what seems to be so strange, but the reason why i kept going back to the institute after quitting so many times was the presence of the teacher that had given me so much.__now, everything seems to be entirely different, the bond has diluted and many of the things i loved about going to class every week are gone to a foreign country with which i have no way of communicating.
i will not quit, not quite yet, but i am sad.__it seems there is a natural place to which most go, away from where i stand.
coming in through my ears::"Palacios, paraco, el pueblo está berraco"