A way of happening, a mouth

Photo

Tue, 21 May 2013 18:41:10 -0700

reader definition: knock you up

Thu, 16 May 2013 16:01:50 -0700

When I was a new immigrant to Canada (1969), a female colleague was amused at my suggestion that I would “knock you up in the morning”.

UK: knock on your door to wake you up.

US/Canada: father your child in the wee hours.

(Advantage: UK)

(Photo: Getty)

"Research/Interest: Toil; avant pulp; Asiatica; off-kilter Englishness; artists’ books;..."

Wed, 15 May 2013 17:42:22 -0700

“Research/Interest: Toil; avant pulp; Asiatica; off-kilter Englishness; artists’ books; topographics; listening; the cinematical; migrant aesthetics; poetics and sociology of sport; Sweden.”

- just a reminder that English scholars are RIDICULOUS

"All that philosophy can do is to destroy idols. And that means not creating a new one — for instance..."

Tue, 14 May 2013 07:33:36 -0700

“All that philosophy can do is to destroy idols. And that means not creating a new one — for instance as in “absence of an idol.””

- Wittgenstein, “Big Typescript Sections 86-93” in Philosophical Occasions, 88. (via eto-ee-eto)

Time to stop

Mon, 13 May 2013 00:41:39 -0700

Time to stop

"Just had to explain to dena that I COULD NOT read her greek vocabulary in the library to the tune of..."

Sun, 12 May 2013 13:56:20 -0700

“Just had to explain to dena that I COULD NOT read her greek vocabulary in the library to the tune of journey’s “faithfully” or else i would instantly seduce her. when ur older ull understand”

- Text from Nick

"His steps up the stairs are like summer thunder one or two lakes away. He comes like a scent rising..."

Tue, 07 May 2013 08:20:19 -0700

“

His steps up the stairs are like summer thunder one or two lakes away.
He comes like a scent rising from a night pond.
He comes like a recurring dream.
like the rain falling through the forest at night, and far away and through the trees
faint—the sound of fiddles
a square of light where a door opens to the dark.

The sound of his climbing is like breathing underwater
And the stumbling is an answer to a prayer no one heard.
Inevitable as daylight, exhaustive as pain,
his climb and his footfall sound like another world
ending
another world ending.

”

- “Who” by Marie Howe

Overheard in the English school bathroom

Mon, 06 May 2013 15:15:29 -0700

Chinese student: Vincent! Vincent!
From the stall: Yes? What do you want?
Chinese student: What are you doing???
From the stall: Shit!
Chinese student: Oh...Vincent! Vincent!
From the stall: [exasperated] What??
Chinese student: Enjoy time! [runs out of the bathroom]

"And we can prevent misunderstandings by saying: “This colour is called so-and-so”, “This length is..."

Mon, 06 May 2013 00:55:26 -0700

“And we can prevent misunderstandings by saying:
“This colour is called so-and-so”, “This length is called so-and-so”,
and so on. That is to say: misunderstandings are sometimes averted in this way. But is there only one way of taking the word “colour” or
“length”?—Well, they just need defining.—Defining, then, by means
of other words! And what about the last definition in this chain?
(Do not say: “There isn’t a ‘last’ definition”. That is just as if you chose
to say: “There isn’t a last house in this road; one can always build an
additional one”.)”

- From part of #29 in Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations

There *is* a last house, a last definition— it is the definition that is sufficient for your understanding. There is no endless deferral, no endless interpretation. In the end, we do not understand through interpretation, but through shared customs, shared forms of life.
(via eto-ee-eto)

thesufjanstevensmodel5000: YHWH in the house. (Or, when...

Sat, 04 May 2013 12:09:36 -0700

thesufjanstevensmodel5000:

YHWH in the house. (Or, when Vampires sing about God it sounds like this).

"What one has loved with youthful infatuation, what one has admired with youthful enthusiasm, that..."

Fri, 03 May 2013 16:28:12 -0700

“What one has loved with youthful infatuation, what one has admired with youthful enthusiasm, that with which one has kept secret, enigmatic company in the inwardness of the soul, that which one has hidden in the heart—one always approaches this with a certain shyness, with mixed feelings, when one knows that the purpose is to understand it. What one has come to know piece by piece, just as a bird gleans each little straw for itself, happier over each little bit than over all the rest of the world; what the loving ear, solitary has absorbed, solitary in the great crowd, unnoticed in its secret hiding place; what the avid ear has picked up, never satisfied, what the avaricious ear has preserved, never secure, of which the faintest echo has never disappointed the sleepless attention of the reconnoitering ear; what one has lived in during the day and relived at night, what has driven away sleep and made it restless, what one has dreamed about in sleep, what one has awakened to in order awake to dream about it again, for the sake of which one has leaped out of bed in the middle of the night out of fear of forgetting it; what has made its appearance to one in the most inspired moments, what one has always had at hand like a woman’s needlework, what has accompanied one on bright moonlit nights, in lonely forests by the lake, on gloomy streets, in the middle of the night, at the break of day; what has sat with one on the same horse, what has been company in the carriage; what has permeated the home, what one’s room has witnessed, what has resonated in the ear, what has reverberated in the soul, what the soul has spun into its finest fabric—this now shows itself to thought. Just as in old tales those enigmatic beings, draped in seaweed, rise up from the bottom of the sea, so this rises up from the sea of recollection, intertwined with mementos. The soul becomes sad and the heart mellow, for it is as if one were taking leave of it, as if one were parting never to meet again, neither in time nor in eternity. One feels that one is being unfaithful, that one has betrayed one’s pact; one feels that one is no longer the same, not as young, not as childlike; one fears for oneself, that one will lose what made one happy, blissful, and rich; one fears for what one loves, that it will suffer in this change, will perhaps appear less perfect, that it will possibly fail to answer the many questions, alas, and then all is lost, the magic is gone, and it can never again be evoked. As for Mozart’s music, my soul knows no fear, my confidence no limits. For one thing, what I have understood hitherto is only very little, and enough will always remain, hiding in the shadows of presentiment; for another, I am convinced that if Mozart ever became entirely comprehensible to me, he would then become completely incomprehensible to me.”

- “The Immediate Erotic Stages,” Either/Or

thetenssf: America: As Dumb as We Wanna Be I live really close...

Thu, 02 May 2013 18:42:31 -0700

thetenssf:

America: As Dumb as We Wanna Be

I live really close to this 7-Eleven. One night, I woke up with a ridiculously bad case of heartburn/acid reflux; I felt like my esophagus was going to melt/I was going to vomit all at once. So I drove to the 7-Eleven at 3am to buy some Alkaseltzer. I entered the convenience store in a really delirious state, grabbed the ridiculously priced miniature box of Alkaseltzer and had the clerk ring me up. And then realized that I didn’t have my wallet, but just happened to have a $100 bill in my car that my nana had given me a few days before. Of course, the clerk wouldn’t take the bill, something about not having that much cash in the register for safety purposes. I screamed at him for, like, ten minutes about how $100 bills are still legal tender, and that he was required to take my money. But he just patiently shook his head until I got tired and drove to the 24-hour Safeway all the way in Berkeley.

7-Eleven Clerk, if you’re reading this, I’m so so sorry. I was sick and tired and crazy. You were very patient. And I’m sorry for not apologizing to you in person, but, you know, I can never go back to your 7-Eleven again.

"CHAD! Look at this card…it looks like it’s made out of wood! CRAZY! But, Chad, I assure..."

Thu, 02 May 2013 17:22:42 -0700

“CHAD! Look at this card…it looks like it’s made out of wood! CRAZY! But, Chad, I assure you, we will see crazier things than this in our lives—and yes, I’m sort of quoting Jesus there.”

- First sentence of a card from Dena with a wood grain design on the front, a weirdly profound statement about all of our lives.

lmusholt: its horrible, I love it This is so amazing and...

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 15:37:47 -0700

lmusholt:

its horrible, I love it

This is so amazing and accurate.

rocketaircombyourhair: dyingspiralgalaxies: X-Files Season 7...

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 09:30:36 -0700

rocketaircombyourhair:

dyingspiralgalaxies:

X-Files Season 7 Episode 14

CHADCHADCHAD

I vaguely remember this episode, especially seeing that freeway overpass and thinking “oh, hey, it’s the 880.”

theparisreview: Today’s Tom Gauld cartoon. You can buy his new...

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 09:02:17 -0700

theparisreview:

Today’s Tom Gauld cartoon.

You can buy his new book of cartoons, You’re All Just Jealous of My Jetpack, today!

"You think this happened only once and long ago? Think of a summer night and someone talking across..."

Sun, 28 Apr 2013 13:09:33 -0700

“You think this happened only once and long ago?
Think of a summer night and someone
talking across the water,
maybe someone
you loved in a boat, rowing. And you could
hear the oars dripping in the water, from
half a lake away, and they were far and
close at once. You didn’t need to touch them
or call to them or talk about it later.
—the sky? It was what you breathed. The lake?
sky that fell as rain. I have been like you
filled with worry, worry—then relief.
You know the wind is sky moving. It happens all the time.”

- “You Think This Happened Only Once and Long Ago,” from Poems from the Life of Mary by Marie Howe (via nools)

"Lord, my heart is not haughty, Nor my eyes lofty. Neither do I concern myself with great..."

Sat, 27 Apr 2013 22:41:19 -0700

“

Lord, my heart is not haughty,
Nor my eyes lofty.
Neither do I concern myself with great matters,
Nor with things too profound for me.

Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul,
Like a weaned child with his mother;
Like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, hope in the Lord
From this time forth and forever.

”

- Psalm 131

"Then Christ will say to us, ‘Come you also! Come you drunkards! Come you weaklings! Come you..."

Sat, 27 Apr 2013 21:51:18 -0700

““Then Christ will say to us, ‘Come you also! Come you drunkards! Come you weaklings! Come you depraved!’ And he will say to us, ‘Vile creatures, you in the image of the beast and you who bear his mark. All the same, you come too!’ And the wise and prudent will say, ‘Lord, why are you welcoming them? And he will say, ‘O wise and prudent, I am welcoming them because not one of them has ever judged himself worthy. And he will stretch out his arms to us, and we shall fall at his feet, and burst into sobs, and then we shall understand everything, everything! Lord, your kingdom come!””

- Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment (via eto-ee-eto)

The Impossible Decision

Sat, 27 Apr 2013 21:45:59 -0700

newyorker:

Joshua Rothman on “the impossible decision” of whether or not to go to graduate school, and tough decisions in general: “There are too many unknowns…It’s too unclear what happiness is…These bigger mysteries make the grad-school decision harder.” http://nyr.kr/10x9uqf