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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16.2.07

:: run run gingerbread girl ::
i remember hearing someone say "i'm the happiest world in my person"._ to him it was a great discovery, but i could never understand that fully._to think that many worlds were given inside his little head and that such thing as 'happiness' could be said of them was something i could not begin to picture._ i remember him saying a great deal of other things that were to him, and maybe just to him, a great deal._ now i sit and wonder why it is that i can only do small talk when surrounded with certain people with whom i had in another world -perhaps- spoken of bigger and more important matters._ it is not that i have become suddenly void -there's no such thing here implied as not having been void previously-, or that i find it difficult to centre myself on things that would allow me to properly speak._no, i think it's more of a feeling of derangement in what is given by the interaction with them, as though i could not understand the fact that they, indeed, are the same ones as before._and so i talk about my parents -which i do very seldom amongst other people- and day to day things that are not at all relevant._it may be just a question of fear, of admitting once more to be terribly vulnerable to scrutiny, of being a new world to them and they being a new world to me._ the question of how to approach such a complex mixture of things makes me want to bite my own tongue in fear of being my own ridiculous self with my own ridiculous beliefs, of being examined and judged._but then i know and feel and think that running away from something as valuable as speaking with my own voice is an act of cowardliness i cannot afford at these times._again, who is this speaking and to whom is everything addressed?_clearly much more is lost than a single person in this scheme; a lot of worlds have vanished, hopefully not the happiest one of them all.
coming in through my ears::Sören purring on my belly