tricky

Once I had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: "No good in a bed, but fine up against a wall.

by Eleanor Roosevelt

emotional landscapes

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.

But what precisely is an encounter with someone you like? Is it an encounter with someone, or with the animals who come to populate you, or with the ideas which take you over, the movements which move you, the sounds which run through you? And how do you separate these things?

from Dialogues by Gilles Deleuze (via worshiping flows)

nos tempos livres

James Dean no seu apartamento em Nova Iorque (via Life)

Our reason, our intelligence, are constantly testing us that this world is atrocious, reason for which the reason is annihilating and leads to skepticism, cynicism and finally to annihilation*

It might be said that the human race is incapable of withstanding the drastic changes that are taking place in today’s world. For those changes have been so terrible, so far-reaching and, above all, so swift that they make those that caused the disappearance of the dinosaurs pale into insignificance. Man has not had time to adopt to the sudden and powerful changes that his technology and society have produced around him, and it might safely be said that many of today’s illnesses are the means used by the cosmos to eliminate this proud human race. Man is the only animal to have created his own environment. Ironically, he is also the only one to have thus created his own means of self-destruction.

by Ernesto Sábato

 *luckily, man is almost never a reasonable being, so hope is reborn again and again in the midst of calamitie.

Therefore, dear Sir, love your solitude and try to sing out with the pain it causes you.

But your solitude will be a support
and a home for you,
even in the midst of very
unfamiliar circumstances,
and from it you will find all your paths.

by Rainer Maria Rilke

crisálida

há que franzir o olho quando, após ouvires por mais do que uma vez a analogia entre a metamorfose da lagarta e a tua vida, te começam a surgir borboletas brancas no quarto, uma após outra.

que fique aqui registado. até já as comecei a enumerar por fotografias.



edit: e já vão em 4

Tudo se esbate. Um pouco mais e é a cegueira.

Não é preciso ser muito sagaz para encontrar um calmante à vida dos mortos. Que espero eu, então, para conjurar a minha? Há-de chegar, há-de chegar, estou aqui estou a ouvir o grande berro que vai tudo apaziguar, embora não seja eu quem o há-de soltar. Enquanto se espera, inútil saber-mo-nos defuntos, não estamos, a gente torce-se ainda, os cabelos crescem, as unhas alongam-se, as entranhas esvaziam-se, todos os gatos-pingados estão mortos. Alguém puxou as cortinas, nós mesmos quem sabe. Nem o mais pequeno ruído. Onde as moscas que tão faladas foram? Há que render-mo-nos à evidência, não somos nós que estamos mortos, são todos os outros.

from Molloy by Samuel Beckett

the rooks have arrived

People in trees by Mikola Gnisyuk

ᔥ Lens

i've missed you not, too

Outdoor Texts by Endre Tót

pergunta-me se já tenho saudades de casa ao que respondo afirmativamente, sabendo que o esperava de mim, e evitando assim falar mais sobre o assunto. menti. no lugar do sim queria ter dito que não, não tenho saudades de casa, como não vou ter saudades do aqui e agora, ou de lugar nenhum. e assim como não tenho saudades de lugar nenhum, vou-me apercebendo de que lugar nenhum sente a minha falta.
so yeah, that's that.

Dasein

a German word which literally means being there, often translated in English with the word existence. It is a fundamental concept in the existential philosophy of Martin Heidegger particularly in his magnum opus Being and Time.

(...)

By using the expression Dasein, Heidegger called attention to the fact that a human being cannot be taken into account except as being an existent in the middle of a world amongst, that Dasein is 'to be there' and 'there' is the world. To be human is to be fixed, embedded and immersed in the physical, literal, tangible day by day world.

(via wiki & royby)

bucket list

arranjar um aparelho para projectar o Retour d'un repère, da Rose Lowder, em loop, na parede do meu quarto.
é bom saber que posso recorrer aos estímulos visuais quando necessito de um calmante.

We die to each other daily

(still from Chungking Express)

What we know of other people is only our memory of the moments during which we knew them. And they have changed since then. To pretend that they and we are the same is a useful and convenient social convention which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember that at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.

The Cocktail Party, T.S. Eliot

He is the universe’s helpless captive, kept to fall into nameless possibilities.

Man beholds the earth, and it is breathing like a great lung; whenever it exhales, delightful life swarms from all its pores and reaches out toward the sun, but when it inhales, a moan of rupture passes through the multitude, and corpses whip the ground like bouts of hail. Not merely his own day could he see, the graveyards wrung themselves before his gaze, the laments of sunken millennia wailed against him from the ghastly decaying shapes, the earth-turned dreams of mothers. Future’s curtain unraveled itself to reveal a nightmare of endless repetition, a senseless squander of organic material. The suffering of human billions makes its entrance into him through the gateway of compassion, from all that happens arises a laughter to mock the demand for justice, his profoundest ordering principle. He sees himself emerge in his mother's womb, he holds up his hand in the air and it has five branches; whence this devilish number five, and what has it to do with my soul? He is no longer obvious to himself—he touches his body in utter horror; this is you and so far do you extend and no farther. He carries a meal within him, yesterday it was a beast that could itself dash around, now I suck it up and make it part of me, and where do I begin and end? All things chain together in causes and effects, and everything he wants to grasp dissolves before the testing thought... Eventually, the features of things are features only of himself. Nothing exists without himself, every line points back at him, the world is but a ghostly echo of his voice—he leaps up loudly screaming and wants to disgorge himself onto the earth along with his impure meal, he feels the looming of madness and wants to find death before losing even such ability.

But as he stands before imminent death, he grasps its nature also, and the cosmic import of the step to come. His creative imagination constructs new, fearful prospects behind the curtain of death, and he sees that even there is no sanctuary found. And now he can discern the outline of his biologico-cosmic terms: He is the universe’s helpless captive, kept to fall into nameless possibilities.

ᔥ toward the creative nothing

olha eu cheia de inveja do Wallace

The first time I lay actual eyes on the real David Lynch on the set of his movie, he's peeing on a tree. I am not kidding. This is on 8 January in West LA's Griffith Park, where some of Lost Highway's exteriores and driving scenes are being shot. Lynch is standing in the bristly underbrush off the dirt road between the Base Camp's trailers and the set, peeing on a stunted pine.

from David Lynch Keeps His Head by David Foster Wallace

e há que terminar este post com uma musiquinha