ice cold

“therefore let us agree that the idea of eternal return implies a perspective from which things appear other than as we know them: they appear without the mitigating circumstance of their transitory nature. this mitigating circumstance prevents us from coming to a verdict. for how can we condemn something that is ephemeral, in transit? in the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine.”

-unbearable lightness of being

trop trop trop. tellement qu’il me blesse.

one thing at a time, takes way too much time

from hopiel:

i read this article in scientific american. it explored the possibility of humans forming real, rewarding relationships with programmed robots. the following is what helen fisher, biological anthropologist, had to say: love seems dependent on 3 things: sex, romance, and deep attachments. one can trigger the sex drive by just reading a book or seeing a movie–it doesnt have to be triggered by a human being. you can feel a deep attachment to your land, your house, an idea, a desk, alcohol or whatever, so it seems logical that you can fall deeply attached to a robot. and when it comes to romantic love, you can fall madly in love with someone who doesnt know you exist. it shows how much we want to love.

hm.

but can a robot pet your hair and feed you carrots at the same time? and massage your feet and tell you you’re cute even though you cough like an old man? and can they notice when you’re angry about the dumbest things but pretend that they’re not dumb at all? and can robots react to your reactions and make you smile even when your stubborn self does not want to smile? and can they dance like michael jackson (but not really)?

oh they can? nevermind then.

a celebration of the hindu new year in bali where people completely devote the day and themselves to self-reflection.

nothing is open, lights are turned off, and no one works, travels, talks, or even eats! the balinese restrict themselves from everything they can in order keep this day.

and tomorrow is ngembak geni, where everyone makes an effort to ask each other for forgiveness.

how idyllic. how idyllic. how idyllic.

i want it.

alvy as young boy sits on a sofa with his mother in an old-fashioned,
cluttered doctor’s office. the doctor stands near the sofa, holding a
cigarette and listening.

MOTHER
(to the doctor)
he’s been depressed. all off a sudden,
he can’t do anything.

DOCTOR
(nodding)
why are you depressed, alvy?

MOTHER
(nudging alvy)
tell dr. flicker.
(young alvy sits, his head down. his
mother answers for him)
it’s something he read.

DOCTOR
(puffing on his cigarette and
nodding)
something he read, huh?

ALVY
(his head still down)
the universe is expanding.

DOCTOR
the universe is expanding?

ALVY
(looking up at the doctor)
well, the universe is everything, and if
it’s expanding, someday it will break apart
and that would be the end of everything!

disgusted, his mother looks at him.

MOTHER
(shouting)
what is that your business?
(she turns back to the doctor)
he stopped doing his homework.

ALVY
what’s the point?

MOTHER
(excited, gesturing with her hands)
what has the universe got to do with it?
you’re here in brooklyn! brooklyn is not
expanding!

DOCTOR
(heartily, looking down at alvy)
it won’t be expanding for billions of years
yet, alvy. and we’ve gotta try to enjoy
ourselves while we’re here. uh?

he laughs.

-annie hall

“everything takes forever”

“right. to know exactly what you want to be doing, to know exactly what you’d make, given the means, given sometimes, all the projects lined up, the body of work, have it all mapped out– who will be involved, what the office will look like, where to desks will go, couches, hot tub…”

“it should be easier”

“it should be automatic”

“instantaneous”

-eggers

‘that’s very philosophical’
‘yes. when all else fails, philosophize.’ (60)

evening falls. they are not hungry, but they eat. eating is a ritual, and rituals make things easier. (111)

all at once he has become a recluse, a country recluse. the end of roving. though the heart be still as loving and the moon be still as bright. who would have thought it would come to an end so soon and so suddenly: the roving, the loving! (120)

he is not, he hopes, a sentimentalist. [...] he avoids saying to her, ‘i don’t know how you do it,’ in order not to have to hear her say in return, ’someone has to do it.’ (143)

he saves the honour of corpses because there is no one else stupid enough to do it. this is what he is becoming: stupid, daft, wrongheaded. (146)

she rests her head on her arms; her shoulders heave as she gives in. again the feeling washed over him: listlessness, indifference, but also weightlessness, as if he has been eaten away from inside and only the eroded shell of his heart remains. how, he thinks to himself, can a man in this state find words, find music that will bring back the dead? (156)

-coetzee

“to love. to be loved. to never forget your own insignificance. to never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. to seek joy in the saddest places. to pursue beauty to its lair. to never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. to understand. to never look away. and never, never to forget.”

-arundhati roy