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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29.3.05

look at her.__ shifting head from one side to another, as if there could be a kind of control of the trajectory of the graphite by bringing tension to a determined area of the neck.__ a tongue sticks out and moves gently throughout swollen lips, those lips often bitten with such urgency; a hand softly sliding across the white surface, across that receptacle of the material reality being now created; a trembling left hand keeping form and matter in one same space.__and though it might be said that this motion requires a correspondence, there is really nothing going on beyond it. she is for one second of her life one with what exists not with or by the necessity of her hollow skull?s pretensions, but rather by the breath left hanging in thin air.__ [i cannot say what i think about when i am faced with the infinite possibility of the white, i dare not even say i think. for a long time i refused to let go of the idea that it represented no less than an escape from thinking, from putting images into words, when, what i found to be natural was the exact opposite. but every time i am confronted with a piece of paper, be it of any kind you can portray, i am left with the sensation that it is not enough to simply thrive on it?s being there, just there. i cannot say whether or not i consider it right to meld with the image, for i know i would be leaving behind something that i?ve learned to hold dear.]__ a line could be traced from the black-silvery particles spread across the whitened cellulose and the simple electrical impulses in the shifting head, a continuity could be exposed, made manifest, a beam of light could dilute the opaque glare.__ but eyes fixed on nothing in particular, and certainly not on the line being drawn crave none of this reality, none of this existence, none of this joy with which the material becomes real to others; eyes simply seek images meant to stay un-made, un-shown.
and then I decided to stop drawing, for good.__ and yet, no good has come of it.
coming in through my ears::Living for the City//Stevie Wonder