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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25.2.07

:: blameworthy ignorance ::

i don't know what to do._and i don't say it as a desperate statement in the midst of a terrible depression._as a matter of fact, it has little to do with feeling sad, or even upset._i simply do not know how i should act most of the time._i don't know to what extent what i'm doing is appropriate, if it's something i do by letting my mind slip, or after careful examination of the circumstance._ i don't know if i should stop myself from speaking, or if i should let my tongue lose and turn my brain off or if i should hush and think carefully about every single word._i haven't the slightest idea as to what consequences every gesture and shift of tone of my skin may have, i can't tell between what i would and would not do anymore._and the problem, it seems, concerns not only what i later find out about my own self, but rather that every single waking moment i end up making a mess of things without even noticing it._ i don't want to live my life second questioning insignificant choices -although i definitely hope to do so with those choices that actually have a large influence on the large picture of life-, i don't want to have to worry about not having been perfectly aware of every cause and consequence of every word and look and pause and silence._but it seems i'm stuck._how can i even star to let go of so many things if i'm not even able to lay back and be once more unaware of how terribly difficult it is to make part of an articulate group?_how can i begin to convince myself that everything will, in the end, turn out to be all right when leaving before time seems to me as some sort of infamous thing to do?_ why am i always so certain that the centre of my life cannot and will not be separated from what i had grown so incredibly fond of?
i cannot say how much i'm saddened by the fact that there's nothing i can contribute in someone else's happiness._not in absence, not in presence._ there's simply nothing to be done to aid someone in pain._ i can't take it away, i can't heal it, i can't divert his mind from it, i can't, perhaps, even fully understand it, despite how hard i may try._ and it's terribly frustrating to be in such a situation; i am, in the end, not part of a great whole in which i had once hoped to play a great role._ the thing about how things evolve is that they seldom act in ways i can predict and control; people are always falling out of my range of view, of my field of action._it hurts much more to know that that someone is in pain than it hurts to hurt by my own self._i don't know why i feel guilty, but i do.

coming in through my ears:: Such great heights//The Postal Service