Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Friday, May 21, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
I wasnt born.......as much as I fell out
NO TRUTH. NO MEANING. NOTHING. NOTHING. ONLY THIS. THIS GREAT BURDEN> EMPIRE OF DIRT> A KANGAROO CANNOT TAKE IT ANYMORE. cannot take the great weight that crushes us all. PLEASE SAVE MY SOul great ocean i ask you. a mere kangaroo in a world if sadness. a world of sadness and ash.FLUFF I SAY.FLUFF.
PLEASE KANGAROO. think it over. read some li---terature on the subject. THERE is redemption. THERE HAS TO BE. stare into the abyss my friend. the NAUSEA WILL always be there. BECOME ONE WIHT IT
The absurd kangaroo will not commit suicide; he wants to live, without relinquishing any of his certainty, without a future, without hope, without illusions ... and without resignation either. He stares at death with passionate attention and this fascination liberates him. He experiences the "divine irresponsibility" of the condemned man.
click and enlarge
PLEASE KANGAROO. think it over. read some li---terature on the subject. THERE is redemption. THERE HAS TO BE. stare into the abyss my friend. the NAUSEA WILL always be there. BECOME ONE WIHT IT
The absurd kangaroo will not commit suicide; he wants to live, without relinquishing any of his certainty, without a future, without hope, without illusions ... and without resignation either. He stares at death with passionate attention and this fascination liberates him. He experiences the "divine irresponsibility" of the condemned man.
click and enlarge
big scientific news http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science_and_environment/10132762.stm
the paper
http://www.edge.org/documents/archive/edge318.html
synthetic life. big stuff. big stuff. if you have the time and patience to read
the paper
http://www.edge.org/documents/archive/edge318.html
synthetic life. big stuff. big stuff. if you have the time and patience to read
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
either/or
Knowledge of the truth I may perhaps have attained to; happiness, certainly not. What shall I do? Accomplish something in the world, men tell me. Shall I then publish my grief to the world, contribute one more proof for the wretchedness and misery of existence, perhaps discover a new flaw in human life, hitherto unnoticed? I might then reap the rare reward of becoming famous, like the man who discovered the spots on Jupiter. I prefer, however, to keep silent.
soren kierkegaard
Knowledge of the truth I may perhaps have attained to; happiness, certainly not. What shall I do? Accomplish something in the world, men tell me. Shall I then publish my grief to the world, contribute one more proof for the wretchedness and misery of existence, perhaps discover a new flaw in human life, hitherto unnoticed? I might then reap the rare reward of becoming famous, like the man who discovered the spots on Jupiter. I prefer, however, to keep silent.
soren kierkegaard
Alone
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Edgar Alan Poe
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Edgar Alan Poe
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