Ich hatte mich leer geweint, so sehr, daß mir der Kopf schmerzte. Das hatte zweifelsohne den Anstieg des Wasserspiegels zur Folge, aber mein Herz schien um mehrere Unzen seiner sonst beträchtlichen Rohmasse erleichtert und ich trieb eine Zeit lang in postnataler Erschöpfung an der Oberfläche. Die Allee an der gegenüberliegenden Uferseite stand nun in voller Blüte. Die Zikaden zirpten laut. Für einen Moment meinte ich, eine vertraute Gestalt von ihrem Sitzplatz unter dem vordersten Apfelbaum hochschnellen zu sehen. Doch ganz plötzlich wandte sich meine Aufmerksamkeit einem unheilvollen Geräusch zu, dessen Quelle einer der zahllosen Strudel des Teichs war. Wieder war ich zu unachtsam gewesen und erneut würde mein Leib in die Tiefe gerissen und ertränkt in schwarzer Galle.

A rare incident in contemporary television, I just saw an interesting documentary on Juliette Binoche, shown as a sort of addendum to the elevating Chocolat. I have an envious, but great admiration for that fixation on creating, the will to bravely parry and riposte the catastrophe of death/nothingness. I feel like I've been failing miserably in this regard for the past months, having descended into ληθαργία in the age of redundance where everyone wants to be seen and appreciated. I can only hope that brighter days will follow and I regain some courage to write again. Off now to play a bit of Dark Souls, in which I will die frequently, in some way relieving death of its weight.

[quoth] chris cunningham: mental wealth (playstation ad, 1999)

Let me tell you what bugs me of the human endeavour. I've never been a human in question, have you? Mankind went to the moon, I don't even know where Grimsby is. Forget progress by proxy. Land on your own moon. It's no longer about what they can achieve, out there on your behalf, but what we can experience, up here and of our own time--and it's called mental wealth.

[diktionær] philophobia

the fear of emotional attachment; fear of being in, or falling in love

toshio matsumoto:atman (1975)andy stott:black (2006)

[redux] ariadne

Entering Hades, with small steps as if in a thunderstorm, bucket of black bile in hand, skimmed during a period of excess melankholia. Afar, the loom of the damnable mirror. When close enough and with averted eyes lest to look inside, she spatters the bucket's content at the mirror, dashes off, and emerges, unseen.

(what a woman does is open doors) and it is not a question of locking or unlocking