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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6.4.05

:: Schwiegerkeit II::

and now i must face my guilt for having been so terribly unjust -ifyable-with her. i was planning on writing a letter, to someone, just anyone, preferably an unknown one, but that doesn't work, i cannot pretend i'll send it all away in a little envelope with a flowered stamp.

Dear Whomever,
i've been trying to pretend to speak in this language only to get to you, this cluster of lines may not be in possession of any actual meaning, but that, perhaps, is not at all important. i've begun to understand, just lately, that this silence is proof in favor of the unavoidable. you see, i'm tiring of this cyclic way of the world, i know that there is at least one way in which i could stand the happening of it all, but i've simply refused to do so in order to maintain coherence in what has become a stubborn stance towards things. believe me i try, but hard as i may do so, no answer comes of it, no glimpse of a way out, of a comforting dissolution of the problem. and the thing is, i'm beginning to get tired of simply asking. there's no marvel in this, no unsatisfyable desire for knowing. there's just frustration and anguish and a violent wrath building up against my lack of understanding. can you relate to that?
i take it out all on her. as if i were demanding a proof of infallible rationality in the midst of what is recognized simply by the loss of it. i demand her to be strong, in control, to behave as i would want to, to face it all and relieve me of the burden of having to be responsible. but that cannot happen. that responsibility has been bestowed upon me, i cannot refuse it, no matter how hard i want to. it simply is hard not being able to see her as a superior being, as someone with power over my life. then again, she does have power over me, but not the kind that is to be praised, it's mere entrapment.
i have disappointed whomever has bestowed on me such responsibility. i am not strong, nor rational, nor still. i am full of fear for my own sanity and succumb to the violent impulse of suppression, mistaking the suppression of her with the suppression of what is wrong. i've taken so many wrong turns in this i know not where to begin dismantling this time bomb. and i can seek no help for i have recluded myself willingly in this aggressive bubble. so i ask not help of you but rather simple silence, for i fear, or simply recognize, that you are not capable of any other.
Please forgive my intrusion absent stranger, i wish not to disturb your peace. i know not if i am able to change my ways, or if i am able to ask forgiveness of her, but i am not able to mute myself any longer.

so i can't write such a letter, i cannot say a single word. it makes me weak. and begging. and right now i can't afford that. but still i find it so important to keep in mind the things that make me believe that not all is lost, i'm afraid i will never be able to behave in a fair manner. it seems i'm simply making way for a life-long guilt i could be by now getting rid of. i don't know if i'm sorry.

coming in through my ears:: comforting silence of the sleepers.