goethe

libidinal autonomy.

A love Story

The Dot and the Line : A Romance in Lower Mathematics
by jedall

oh

compliments of Robert Chao and the Chao family.

Horse!

To lay with Patti is one night

and more is selfish

foolish to think you were

so special

Stan

The American inherently struggles to be gentle and at the same time not to be taken advantage of.

Elegizing Natural Ability

An Absence of Red

I will never sell this. I've only ever intended to place this in the hand of an individual--one I know will not neglect it. To this day I have only made two. Neither alike, for different individuals. I am truly grateful for the incredible beauty and kindness of the people who have received them.

an absence of red--"kerning the post-hoc fantasies of a lonely revolution"

In Crisis

Faith will get me through

Georgia O'Keeffe by Alfred Stieglitz

Psychology

A pseudo-science of the present day.

--Francois Magendie on phrenology 1843

Studies of the Greek Poets

"In order apparently to bring the meter still more within the sphere of prose and common speech, _______ ended his iambics with a spondee or a trochee instead of an iambus, doing thus the utmost violence to the rhythmical structure. These deformed and mutilated verses were called...(lame or limping iambics). They communicated a curious crustiness to the style. The choliambi are in poetry what the dwarf or cripple is in human nature. Here again, by their acceptance of this halting meter, the Greeks displayed their acute aesthetic sense of propriety, recognizing the harmony which subsists between crabbed verses and the distorted subjects with which they dealt--the vices and perversions of humanity--as well as their agreement with the snarling spirit of the satirist. Deformed verse was suited to deformed morality."

-John Addington Symonds

Vol. I, p. 284

Masaru Satoh

Translating Borges

I'm losing my sight, like Borges. 1964, is composed of two elegiac sonnets in Spanish (perhaps in Argentine dialect, almost entirely like traditional Castilian Spanish). Because translating the poem directly as sonnets in english would be pointless I tried to transmute the aesthetic. In part 1 I do my best to maintain a continuity of sound--Borges top-loads rueful images. In part 2 the rhythm is almost entirely lost--as it closes, in the second half, I wanted the poem to be slightly more dissonant.

The image of life (the aesthetic structure of the poem) remains, but the sound (representative of metaphysical representation itself), unravels. I doubt this would meet with Borges' approval, but, in a sense, we are aware of the same things--kindred spirits.

reading and transcription of original here.

Slow Sunday Morning