9/08/2011
8/31/2011
8/28/2011
@night
my dad and i went to the "lange nacht der museen" last night. my legs still hurt from all those steps at the berliner dom...but the view was worth it and walking around the cupola was very refreshing. other places that i really enjoyed were the knoblauchhaus, the ephraim-palais, where they had a very well curated exhibition (kleist: krise und experiment) about heinrich von kleist, including a room full of famous writers and philosophers who have committed suicide. i also enjoyed the exhibitions at café sibylle and the former karl-marx-buchhandlung. other than that we visited the ddr museum (which was too crowded and too silly for my taste, but had some fun moments) and the rotes rathaus, berlin's city hall. next time we will definitely leave berlin-mitte. but for last night it was more than enough and we went to places, i haven't been to before (excluding the berliner dom).
8/14/2011
8/05/2011
8/03/2011
this living, this living, this living
Coda
There's little in taking or giving,
There's little in water or wine;
This living, this living, this living
Was never a project of mine.
Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is
The gain of the one at the top,
For art is a form of catharsis,
And love is a permanent flop,
And work is the province of cattle,
And rest's for a clam in a shell,
So I'm thinking of throwing the battle-
Would you kindly direct me to hell?
Dorothy Parker
7/30/2011
It was the best of times...
"...it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."
Charles Dickens, A Tale of two Cities
7/29/2011
(almost) perfect new roommate
pro: doesn't eat, doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't talk, doesn't make a mess. doesn't really do anything at all, except for being there.
contra: doesn't pay any rent, doesn't do the dishes.
unwanted guest
last week i found this grasshopper or whatever it is in my living room...when i came home from work it was gone. at least i hope so. but maybe i'll find a body in a few days somewhere in my place, who knows.
7/20/2011
life is no picnic
but wouldn't it be nice if it was an endless picnic?
(except for when you need to pee...)
7/18/2011
7/17/2011
...that was...
"...what I fell in love with: the sense of calm that enveloped her, the radiant silence burning within."
paul auster, oracle night
7/10/2011
7/07/2011
to be or not to be, that is the question
"...Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action..."
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action..."
shakespeare's hamlet used to be my favourite play.
6/29/2011
6/12/2011
6/11/2011
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