“My formula for human greatness is amor fati: that one wants to have nothing different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely to bear the necessary, still less to conceal it–all idealism is mendaciousness before the necessary–but to love it.”
- Nietzsche
September 14, 2008
Not merely to bear the necessary
August 19, 2008
Orwell’s diary, 70 years to the day(s)
George Orwell’s diary is being posted as a series blog entries.
The Orwell Prize is delighted to announce that, to mark the 70th anniversary of the diaries, each diary entry will be published on this blog exactly seventy years after it was written, allowing you to follow Orwell’s recuperation in Morocco, his return to the UK, and his opinions on the descent of Europe into war in real time. The diaries end in 1942, three years into the conflict.
They just started, so you don’t have much catching up to do yet.
February 27, 2008
Aging on screen
Passage.
A short, sweet, and surprisingly moving piece of video game art. Will you stay where you are and explore, gathering identical treasure and accruing arbitrary points? Will you keep a steady path and try to get as far ahead as you can? Will you fall in love? What will you do with your brief time?
People in Order: Age.
Three minutes, one drum and a century’s worth of Brits.
Noah takes a picture of himself every day for 6 years.
There’s something unsettlingly poignant about watching a total stranger age six years in the space of about six minutes. I’ve returned to this video a few times over the past year, and I’m not entirely sure why I find it so fascinating. I think part of it is context - digital snaps and a YouTube window, us with ever more and more technology to record and preserve and - we like to think, in our weaker moments - extend our lives, but when you get down to it, it’s just us, passing through. Or maybe it’s the intermittent frames with someone in the background. People come in to our lives, attracting so much attention, and then disappearing, so quickly as unremarkable as the detritus in the background, and indistinguishable from the unpredictable next, who will soon become unremarkable themselves. Maybe it’s because I’m not a kid anymore, and haven’t been for a while, though I never noticed when that actually happened. Maybe if I catch that moment in him, it’ll give me a clue about mine.
November 19, 2007
Welcome…
I’m in the middle of redesigning the site and, despite its best efforts, installing a new WordPress. How awkward.
For now, you can enter your email in the form to the left for updates on performances, readings, the inevitable chapbook, or when i’ve painted the walls in here. And subscribe to my RSS feed for when the journal entries start.
You can also find me in the pages of NOW
Orwell’s diary, 70 years to the day(s)
George Orwell’s diary is being posted as a series blog entries.
The Orwell Prize is delighted to announce that, to mark the 70th anniversary of the diaries, each diary entry will be published on this blog exactly seventy years after it was written, allowing you to follow Orwell’s recuperation in Morocco, his return to the UK, and his opinions on the descent of Europe into war in real time. The diaries end in 1942, three years into the conflict.
They just started, so you don’t have much catching up to do yet.
February 27, 2008
Aging on screen
Passage.
A short, sweet, and surprisingly moving piece of video game art. Will you stay where you are and explore, gathering identical treasure and accruing arbitrary points? Will you keep a steady path and try to get as far ahead as you can? Will you fall in love? What will you do with your brief time?
People in Order: Age.
Three minutes, one drum and a century’s worth of Brits.
Noah takes a picture of himself every day for 6 years.
There’s something unsettlingly poignant about watching a total stranger age six years in the space of about six minutes. I’ve returned to this video a few times over the past year, and I’m not entirely sure why I find it so fascinating. I think part of it is context - digital snaps and a YouTube window, us with ever more and more technology to record and preserve and - we like to think, in our weaker moments - extend our lives, but when you get down to it, it’s just us, passing through. Or maybe it’s the intermittent frames with someone in the background. People come in to our lives, attracting so much attention, and then disappearing, so quickly as unremarkable as the detritus in the background, and indistinguishable from the unpredictable next, who will soon become unremarkable themselves. Maybe it’s because I’m not a kid anymore, and haven’t been for a while, though I never noticed when that actually happened. Maybe if I catch that moment in him, it’ll give me a clue about mine.
November 19, 2007
Welcome…
I’m in the middle of redesigning the site and, despite its best efforts, installing a new WordPress. How awkward.
For now, you can enter your email in the form to the left for updates on performances, readings, the inevitable chapbook, or when i’ve painted the walls in here. And subscribe to my RSS feed for when the journal entries start.
You can also find me in the pages of NOW
Passage.
A short, sweet, and surprisingly moving piece of video game art. Will you stay where you are and explore, gathering identical treasure and accruing arbitrary points? Will you keep a steady path and try to get as far ahead as you can? Will you fall in love? What will you do with your brief time?
People in Order: Age.
Three minutes, one drum and a century’s worth of Brits.
Noah takes a picture of himself every day for 6 years.
There’s something unsettlingly poignant about watching a total stranger age six years in the space of about six minutes. I’ve returned to this video a few times over the past year, and I’m not entirely sure why I find it so fascinating. I think part of it is context - digital snaps and a YouTube window, us with ever more and more technology to record and preserve and - we like to think, in our weaker moments - extend our lives, but when you get down to it, it’s just us, passing through. Or maybe it’s the intermittent frames with someone in the background. People come in to our lives, attracting so much attention, and then disappearing, so quickly as unremarkable as the detritus in the background, and indistinguishable from the unpredictable next, who will soon become unremarkable themselves. Maybe it’s because I’m not a kid anymore, and haven’t been for a while, though I never noticed when that actually happened. Maybe if I catch that moment in him, it’ll give me a clue about mine.
Welcome…
I’m in the middle of redesigning the site and, despite its best efforts, installing a new WordPress. How awkward.
For now, you can enter your email in the form to the left for updates on performances, readings, the inevitable chapbook, or when i’ve painted the walls in here. And subscribe to my RSS feed for when the journal entries start.
You can also find me in the pages of NOW