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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26.6.06

:: recalcitrating fears ::
every two hours, or so, i take a deep breath and divert my mind from those little voices in my head; yes, those that tell me that there's no greater lie than the one that states that it is all, in the end, going to end up well. i slowly close my eyes and build up conversations in german that could persuade me into believing that there is nothing to fear, that here, as everywhere -and for that matter, anywhere- things seem to flow, as they should, without caring much for my fears._ but, there are times, when the simple act of breathing-closing eyes-imaginig friends i do not have, is not enough._ to my mind come a thousand images of times already past, in which i had found myself absolutely terrified by the smallest of things; a million tears wasted on unimportant matters, the belief that a very loud scream could bring some kind of security to 'my here'._i don't scream anymore, or bash my head into the walls of my room -that would imply that i would have to wash off the stains of blood before i left, something i am by no means willing to do-, but the same kind of stomach-turning self inflicted wounds are today present, as they were thousand times before.
i'm thinking about staying here; well, more accurately, i think from time to time about the possibility of not going back as soon as i should._ the thought doesn't seem to stick for long, not long enough to actually become an intention, something i would do something about._ last night i had a dream in which i was completely devastated for having returned home without having done anything of worth._ i woke up immersed in a most disturbing state of emotions, not knowing if the words i uttered in my dreams -"i don't want to live here"- reffered to this here, or the past and future here._anyway, it hasn't turned out to be a good day; maybe i'm letting myself get overinvolved with what i think._ the lack of friends with whom i could spend my time has made me too much self-aware to tell the difference between what i want and what i once thought i wanted._ perhaps i'll even go mad; who am i to know that?.
i spoke to my mother recently, and what she had to say left me worried, frustrated and feeling a bit as a traitor._ after all, i'm here, in part, running away from all -well, all except him- i left behind._things are messed up back home._and i'm not doing anything about it; i'm not doing anything about anything._ i think i've lost a couple of months of my life.
coming in through my ears::Penumbra //Spinetta