Sábado, 27 de Julho de 2013

Feels like home


"That this discomforting work was composed by a couple of prog rock-obsessed Columbia College professors makes it all the more interesting. Foisy and keyboardist/singer Terence Hannum, who started performing as Locrian in 2005, do not come across as doom-obsessed loners hellbent on chronicling humanity's destruction. Quite the opposite, in fact. Like modern day archeologists, the two find a sort of alien beauty in abandoned structures.

"There's this tension we play with between horror and beauty," says Foisy. "In a sense, we are critiquing capitalism and our culture of buying-and-selling, but we find a lot of beauty in that.""





publicado por quaerendoinvenietis às 16:45
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Terça-feira, 16 de Julho de 2013

Primeiro milisegundo




The fireball is still extremely hot (surface temperature around 20,000 degrees K at this point, some three and a half times hotter than the surface of the sun; at the center it may be more than ten times hotter) and radiates a tremendous amount of energy as visible light (intensity over 100 times greater than the sun) to which air is (surprise!) completely transparent.


Mais aqui

publicado por quaerendoinvenietis às 01:04
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Love them


Blame it on the Tetons. Yeah, I need a scapegoat now.
No my dog won't bite you, though it had the right to. You oughta give her credit cuz she knows I would've let it happen.

Blame it on the weekends. God, I need a cola now.
Oh we mumble loudly, wear our shame so proudly. Wore our blank expressions, trying to look interesting. Blame it all on me cuz god I need a cold one now.

All them eager actors gladly taking credit for the lines created by the people tucked away from sight is just a window from the room we're bound to. If you find a way out, oh would you just let me know how? Would you just let me know how?

Blame it on the web but the spider's your problem now. Language is the liquid that we're all dissolved in. Great for solving problems, after it creates a problem. Blame it on the Tetons. God, I need a scapegoat now.

Everyone's a building burning with no one to put the fire out. Standing at the window looking out, waiting for time to burn us down. Everyone's an ocean drowning with no one really to show how they might get a little better air if they turned themselves into a cloud. 




publicado por quaerendoinvenietis às 00:30
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Yayoi Kusama in Yellow Tree furniture room at Aich triennale, Nagoya, Japan, 2010 (detail). © Yayoi Kusama. Image courtesy Yayoi Kusma Studio Inc.; Ota Fine Arts, Tokyo; Victoria Miro Gallery, London; and Gagosian Gallery New York


“One day I was looking at the red flower patterns of the tablecloth on a table, and when I looked up I saw the same pattern covering the ceiling, the windows and the walls, and finally all over the room, my body and the universe. I felt as if I had begun to self-obliterate, to revolve in the infinity of endless time and the absoluteness of space, and be reduced to nothingness."



publicado por quaerendoinvenietis às 00:20
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Sexta-feira, 5 de Julho de 2013

Deeper than Death

I don’t care about anybody else’s problems:
They are not as serious as mine.
My sadness is not only deeper than yours:
It is wider and in every respect richer.




publicado por quaerendoinvenietis às 22:54
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I am the stale receptor, the superfluous accumulator,
the redundant completist trapped
in his cave of musty retention,
buried under years of absorption… unaborted;
decades of consumption… consumed,
sacrificed at the altar of other people’s art,
while everything else fell apart.
Pondering, at last, all the pointless consolation;
questioning if it was really necessary
to devour entire genres until I was crapulous
from gorging myself on culture,
As if it were some kind of achievement
to accumulate all this knowledge
that will die with me.
So that on my headstone it will read:
that I read and lived a lot of fiction…
that Art ruined my Life.


publicado por quaerendoinvenietis às 22:43
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