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.


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21.3.07

:: transparent, translucent, translated ::

i sat in the sun today for a couple of hours._ what at first appeared to be a conglomerate of shapes started becoming slowly, ever so slowly, a bulk of spots and blurs of indeterminate colours._it's a shame that my eyes hurt so much under bright light, it's a shame that tones start meshing together without asking for permission from my head, without letting me cling to that first impression of how everything looked like to me._it's as if, in the process of translating this ever changing third-dimensional reality into a two-dimensional attempt of capture, my own self -what i make of me and what is around 'it'- shifted uncontrollably between warm greys and gelid browns._and yet, it's surprising to see that there is enough of everything entirely fixed to make it possible to structure a whole in a little piece of paper, with nothing more than these hands and diluted ground._and it may be just 'that' which is in me fixed what makes me not disregard those words today again uttered by a total outsider._yes, that may be what constitutes the basic standing point in this whole thing; i've denied it, i've fought against it, i've abandoned it, i've run from it desperately... it's still there, always._now, however, i feel not frightened by it, not at all coerced by it, for it no longer means a mistake was made, a wrong path was chosen._ i have all the time in the world to stand still on my own ground, i simply do not wish to do so right now._there are many more things awaiting -and being awaited.
i guess i could say that if anatomical drawing has taught me that it is incredibly important to learn to see -really see, not just look at-, my brief -but, as of today pleasant- experience with water colours has left me with something else._one must learn to do things from the beginning._and from then on, to do things in the way they're meant to be done, in the right order, following the right steps._otherwise, blots and blurs are just blots and blurs._i know i don't want my life to be a collection of just blots and blurs.

coming in through my ears:: Pierrot the clown//Placebo