Friday, March 31, 2006

My life is
—generally—
a yes-but-no.


******* I *******


Must be
&
I wonder
—night after night—

when-if
He will
ever cease resting.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:45 PM

Comments

Thursday, March 30, 2006

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Wednesday, March 29, 2006

For the past few weeks I have been on the verge of tears. I do not confide in my human condition. Only a few traces of hope within. Pity me not. I feel de la verga already.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:37 PM

Comments

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Hobbies? 

I have no hobbies.
I do
what I want.
I am
where I want.
I am
who I want.
I do
it for living.
I do
it for leisure.
Every single second
of my day is my free time.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 6:39 PM

Comments

Monday, March 27, 2006

Error Code 

(¡<--[if support Lists]-->¡)

(!<--[end if]-->!)

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:02 PM

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Sunday, March 26, 2006

Two Years 

"But my voice is lost. Astray. Salt spreads through my eyes. My eyes are dry like stone. My voice blinded. My voice wishing to scape. My voice pulled from its roots, dug from sleep. My voice falling. My voice empty and forgotten. My voice slips in a dying whirl that grows small and faint. My cry is stolen."

~Yvonne Vera, Under the Tongue

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 12:14 PM

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Saturday, March 25, 2006

modifying template

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 9:38 PM

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Ah, the blissful joy of being a pseudo-nihilist...

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:37 PM

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Friday, March 24, 2006

One of the features I most love about HaloScan is that it displays the full IP address of those who comment. Nevertheless, I do not pay attention to the numbers; I only cherish voices. Most people who comment, I care about. Although I do not reply to them, I listen to what they have to say. They are critical. I take their sentiments & advices.

It is only when I receive offensively anonymous comments that I find IP addresses* incredibly useful. It only takes a background check of your IP address to know who & where you are.

It is a good thing I am not a psycho.
I will not hunt you down.
I will not even bother to reply to your comment.
You—yourself—believe your nominal voice is trivial.
You are, basically, unimportant to me; just another bagatelle.

& yet, if you are not a stranger to me, I will, certainly, denounce your cowardice. Yes. I will yell it to the four winds. I will not grant you the glory of graffire.

Questa è la mia casa. Non puoi graffirla senza lasciar il tuo nome.

Witnessing the futility of your existence, & making you live under the shadow provided by my walls, is a lot more fun—& a lot more exquisite—than skinning you alive.

*200.78.4.195

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 5:25 PM

Comments

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Uncertainty is killing me. Infection or suffocation? Were not for my ignorance over the anatomy of cold-blooded vertebrates, an autopsy would have soothed noesis. Had I opened her lackadaisical body, I would have seen nothing. Not the cause of death but only her rotten finitude.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 6:28 PM

Comments

I do not know what I believe anymore. Do I believe the one, or do I believe the other? Sometimes I believe the one; sometimes, the other. How may I discern when it appears to have no ending...

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 6:20 PM

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On the Lack of References in Paul Auster's "City of Glass" 

"There is no code to decipher."

Against my beliefs, let us assume there is none. I pray you explain why—in your categoric opinion—there should be—or not—a code at all.

"There are no references whatsoever."

From my own balcony, your referential scope will be as broad as your cultural, philosophical, teleological, or literary baggage. Assuming Paul Auster had accomplished through "City of Glass" a literary piece in which intertextuality were nonexistent, it would still be—with more reason—worth your while. In any case, how about language as a reference per se?

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 5:54 PM

Comments

"...life cheats us with shadows, like a puppet master. We ask it for pleasure. It gives it to us, with bitterness and disappointment in its train. We come across some noble grief that we think will lend the purple dignity of tragedy to our days, but it passes away from us, and things less noble take its place, and on some grey windy dawn, or odorous eve of silence and of silver, we find ourselves looking with callous wonder, or dull heart of stone, at the tress of gold-flecked hair that we had once so wildly worshipped and so madly kissed."

"I am tired of my expedition into the dim, dull abyss of facts. There is nothing left for me now but the divine μονόχρονος ήδονή of another cigarrette. Cigarrettes have at least the charm of leaving one unsatisfied."

~Oscar Wilde, The Critic As Artist

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 11:53 AM

Comments

I feel as though I were the character in the Take On Me video. I feel as though I were an ideograph with interference.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 10:38 AM

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Wednesday, March 22, 2006

It was there. Ergo, read it. Innocent eyes are usually blind...& yet, his voice was the axe. It broke the lake beneath my feet. Soaked & cold, reality became dull. It was similar to banging my head against the wall. Solid walls will always attract me.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:17 PM

Comments

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Love
is not
forever; 'tis today.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 12:30 PM

Comments

Monday, March 20, 2006

a
cup: objective
my cup: subjective

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 9:01 PM

Comments

(...temporary...) 

To be in Mexico...
what a hateful feeling!
To be in Mexico...
what a dreadful living!
Pavements—like jigsaw puzzles—breaking minds;
children running to a graveyard; mankind!
Cars crashing, rammed buses, workers screaming, "Dear!"
Oh! To be here...

~A.G. & R.L.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:47 PM

Comments

Sunday, March 19, 2006

[...corpse & memory were buried today...]

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:49 PM

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Saturday, March 18, 2006

A couple of years ago Brother brought a water snake home. Mother was not very pleased by Brother's fostering generosity, but she succumbed to it in the end. At least Chabela did not eat mice; that would have killed them both. Mother would have died of fear; Chabela would have died of hunger; mice were too big for her; she only ate small fish. She was not very big. She must have been 15" long. She was cute; in a snaky sort of way. Gabriel loved her.

He would spend hours cleaning her fish tank & placing the rocks so Chabela could hide. He spent hours watching her move. Except for the times when Chabela opted for the out-of-sight sort of existence. Sometimes Chabela hid quite well; some other times, she would escape from her fish tank & we would all spend hours looking for her. Under the sofa; under the washing machine; under the dryer. We searched everywhere. But she always escaped our eye.

Mirrimause, however, always found her.——Mirrimause is curious. She is always attentive to everything that moves.——She never hurt Chabela though. She would only smell her. Whenever we saw Mirri motionless in front of the fridge—or trying to pull "something" out from under the fridge—we would figure out she had found Chabela.

——


Last week Chabela disappeared again. Brother thought she was hiding under a rock; playing the hermit sort of role. Today, however, we found her. She is dead. She must have died of a stomach infection. Her belly was bloated.

——

Chabela's death reminded me of Father's & Grandfather's death. & I am overthrown by this feeling, "I wish I had...if only I had known".

But one never knows. So I try not to wish I had...

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 11:59 AM

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In Gabriel's Words 

"Time passes through us without letting us know. New cycles open; old cycles close. They depart right in front of our noses. Entire chapters of our lives closed. We cannot stop it. Tomorrow is today & some other tomorrows have yet to arrive. My apologies, Chabela. You have been reached by time. & now I am certain that I will never see you again. I am so sorry I never took a photograph of you, for now your death makes me ponder over the significance of your existence. I regret having denied you that piece of immortality; for now you are dead; & you will be erased from my memory as time throws over your memory layers of matter & happenings."

Written in his diary. My translation.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 11:32 AM

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Friday, March 17, 2006

not
only laconicism
but also stolidity

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:40 AM

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Thursday, March 16, 2006

Speaking of Teleology 

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City of Glass, Adaptation by Paul Karasik and David Mazzucchelli

"What happens when a thing no longer performs its function? Is it still the thing, or has it become something else? When you rip the cloth off the umbrella, is the umbrella still an umbrella? You open the spokes, put them over your head, walk out into the rain, and you get drenched. Is it possible to go on calling this object an umbrella? In general, people do. At the very limit, they will say the umbrella is broken. To me this is a serious error, the source of all our troubles. Because it can no longer perform its function, the umbrella has ceased to be an umbrella. It might resemble an umbrella, it might once have been an umbrella, but now it has changed into something else. The word, however, has remained the same. Therefore, it can no longer express the thing. It is imprecise; it is false; it hides the thing it is supposed to reveal. And if we cannot name a common, everyday object that we hold in our hands, how can we expect to speak of the things that truly concern us? Unless we can begin to embody the notion of change in the words we use, we will continue to be lost."

~Paul Auster, City of Glass

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 6:44 PM

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Wednesday, March 15, 2006

"This story recounts, among other things, the origin of the confusion of tongues, the irreducible multiplicity of idioms, the necessary and impossible task of translation, its necessity as impossibility."

~Jacques Derrida, "Des tours de Babel"

"Babel, the father, giving his name of confusion, multiplied the lips, and this is why we are separated and that right now I am dying, dying to kiss you with our lip the only one I want to hear."

~Jacques Derrida, The Postcard: From Socrates to Freud and Beyond

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:21 PM

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Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Perhaps it is I.

***

It is difficult to think in a 28°C environment. Perhaps it is normal to have over 50 cars parked in front of your car...right in the middle of the street. It could be I the only one complaining. Perhaps it is normal to melt under the sun while you go nowhere. Perhaps I am a fool for not realizing the normality behind boiling stasis.

***

Behold! He will attempt a reckless act. He will move out of his way the cars in front of his with only the sound of his horn. Is that not swell?

***

Perhaps it is this place.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:35 PM

Comments

Rojo
blanco, amarillo...
any color satisfies

la necesidad de
no ser
gris.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 5:32 PM

Comments

Monday, March 13, 2006

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Sunday, March 12, 2006

"Abandonar, pero si todo está abandonado,
no es nuevo, yo no soy nuevo."

~Samuel Beckett, Textos para nada

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 9:10 PM

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Saturday, March 11, 2006

CXIX 

What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distill’d from limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,
In the distraction of this madding fever!
O benefit of ill! now I find true
That better is, by evil still made better;
And ruin’d love, when it is built anew,
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
.....So I return rebuk’d to my content,
.....And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.


~William Shakespeare, The Sonnets

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:55 PM

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Friday, March 10, 2006

Aparentemente
la mezquindad,
en español, existe.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 6:44 PM

Comments

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Comments

Comments

Yo
no soy
p [ ] o [ ] e t a.....sino.....p [r] o [b] e t a.

En
experimento;
en mí destruyo.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 5:46 PM

Comments

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

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"Nuestras vidas son como libros en un librero. Somos soledades acomodadas."

Marduck Obrador Cuesta

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 9:38 PM

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Tuesday, March 07, 2006

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Monday, March 06, 2006

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Sunday, March 05, 2006

Today, to me—& only me—everything
is spectacle; realities built upon
images worthless to
the
core. Who knows
what crazy, foolish, artless view
I'll hold tomorrow & the day after...

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:32 PM

Comments

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Comments

[The link to] the blog above is a site I maintain & update. It is my selection of my brother's photographs & he is neither responsible for my choices nor my actions. Claims & complaints may be addressed here.

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 5:55 PM

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"Ή σοφία φεύγει τήν κακίαν."

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:34 AM

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Friday, March 03, 2006

[brackets]
(parentheses)[brackets]
(parentheses)[brackets](parentheses)

[] aren't ()
nor ()
[]

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 5:45 PM

Comments

&
I say,
what the a f.u.c.k.!*

If
your minginess
were leper, you

would be falling
—woefully—to
pieces.


*
faulty unsound coarse knowledge

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:27 AM

Comments

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Feeling... 

as
a fish
in stagnant waters

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 8:18 PM

Comments

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

“...people are a fantasy generated by the market. They don’t exist outside the market. There is nowhere they can go to be on the outside. There is no outside.”

~Don DeLillo, from Cosmopolis

*

"We are not witnessing the flow of information so much as pure spectacle, or information made sacred, ritually unreadable."

Guy Debord, from The Society of the Spectacle

Posted by Nietzsche's Wife @ 7:45 AM

Comments

"I know I'll say something that's halfway clever but mostly shallow and probably inaccurate on some level. Then you'll pity me for having been born."

Don DeLillo, Cosmopolis



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