Tuesday, October 26, 2010
ima urban heartbreak annamal
Saturday, October 23, 2010
captain obvious bloated ego
“You can have the drive and desire, but not the skills, that’s very different than having the skills, and not using them.”
- Joseph Ferrari
- Joseph Ferrari
Alaine de Button, A Week at the Airport: A Heathrow Diary
(excerpts i enjoyed)
Despite the many achievements of aeronautical engineers over the last few decades, the period before boarding an aircraft is still statistically more likely to be the prelude to a catastrophe than a quiet day in front of the television at home. It therefore tends to raise questions about how we might best spend the last moments before our disintegration, in what frame of mind we might wish to fall back down to Earth — and the extent to which we would like to meet eternity surrounded by an array of duty-free bags.
Just beyond the security area was a suite, named after an ill-fated supersonic jet and reserved for the use of first-class passengers. There were leather armchairs, fireplaces, marble bathrooms, a spa, a restaurant, a concierge, a manicurist and a hairdresser. One waiter toured the lounge with plates of complimentary caviar and smoked salmon, while a second made circuits with éclairs and strawberry tartlets.
“For what purpose is all the toil and bustle of this world? What is the end of the pursuit of wealth, power and pre-eminence?” asked Adam Smith in The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759), going on to answer: “To be observed, to be attended to, to be taken notice of with sympathy, complacency, and approbation” — a set of ambitions to which the creators of the Concorde Room had responded with stirring precision.
As I took a seat in the restaurant, I felt certain that whatever it had taken for humanity to arrive at this point had ultimately been worth it. Still, I recognised the fragility of the achievement behind the lounge. I sensed how relatively few such halcyon days there might be left before members of the small fraternity ensconced in its armchairs came to grief and its gilded ceilings cracked into ruin.
Perhaps it had felt a bit like this on the terraces of Hadrian’s villa outside Rome on autumn Sunday evenings in the second century AD, as a blood-red sun set over the marble colonnades.
From the outset, my employer had suggested that I might wish to conduct a brief interview with one of the most powerful men in the terminal: the head of British Airways, Willie Walsh. It was a daunting prospect, as Walsh was having a busy time of it. His company was losing an average of £1.6m a day, a total of £148m over the previous three months. His pilots and cabin crew were planning strikes. Studies showed that his baggage handlers misappropriated more luggage than their counterparts at any other European airline. The government wanted to tax his fuel. Environmental activists had been chaining themselves to his fences. He had done away with the free chocolates after every meal in business class, and in the process provoked a three-day furore in the British press.
Fortunately, I had come to the conclusion that though Mr Walsh was the CEO of one of the world’s largest airlines, it would be wholly unfair of me to treat him like a businessman. Considered collectively, civil aviation had never in its history shown a profit. Just as significantly, neither had book publishing. In this sense, then, the CEO and I, despite our apparent differences, were in much the same sort of business, each one needing to justify itself in the eyes of humanity not so much by its bottom line as by its ability to stir the soul.
The stock market could never put an accurate price on the thousands of moments of beauty and interest that occurred around the world every day under an airline’s banner: it could not describe the sight of Nova Scotia from the air; it had no means of quantifying the adrenaline thrill of take-off.
The logic of my argument was not lost on Mr Walsh, who had himself once been a pilot. As we talked, he expressed his admiration for the way planes could defy their size and the challenges of the atmosphere to soar into the sky. We remarked on the surprise we felt on seeing a 747 at a gate, dwarfing luggage carts and mechanics, at the idea that such a leviathan could move a few metres, let alone cross the Himalayas. We exclaimed over the beauty of a crowded airfield, where, through the heat haze of turbofans, one can make out sequences of planes waiting to begin their journeys, their fins a confusion of colours against the grey horizon, like sails at a regatta.
Emboldened, I asked whether, if he had any money left, he might consider appointing me his writer-in-flight,
in order that I might constantly circumnavigate the Earth composing, among other things, sincere dedications to my patron, impressionistic essays describing the ochre colours of the Western Australian desert as seen from the flight deck, and vignettes recounting the balletic routines of the stewards in the galley.
There was a pause, and for a moment the bonhomie disappeared from the chief executive’s eyes. But it soon returned. “Of course,” he beamed. “Once at Aer Lingus, the video system broke down, and we invited a couple of Irish minstrels to sing songs on a flight to New York. Alan, I could see you at the front of the cabin doing a ditty or two.” And then he apologised for taking up so much of my precious time and called for a security officer to escort me to the door of his corporate headquarters
http://www.alainedebutton.com/
Despite the many achievements of aeronautical engineers over the last few decades, the period before boarding an aircraft is still statistically more likely to be the prelude to a catastrophe than a quiet day in front of the television at home. It therefore tends to raise questions about how we might best spend the last moments before our disintegration, in what frame of mind we might wish to fall back down to Earth — and the extent to which we would like to meet eternity surrounded by an array of duty-free bags.
Just beyond the security area was a suite, named after an ill-fated supersonic jet and reserved for the use of first-class passengers. There were leather armchairs, fireplaces, marble bathrooms, a spa, a restaurant, a concierge, a manicurist and a hairdresser. One waiter toured the lounge with plates of complimentary caviar and smoked salmon, while a second made circuits with éclairs and strawberry tartlets.
“For what purpose is all the toil and bustle of this world? What is the end of the pursuit of wealth, power and pre-eminence?” asked Adam Smith in The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759), going on to answer: “To be observed, to be attended to, to be taken notice of with sympathy, complacency, and approbation” — a set of ambitions to which the creators of the Concorde Room had responded with stirring precision.
As I took a seat in the restaurant, I felt certain that whatever it had taken for humanity to arrive at this point had ultimately been worth it. Still, I recognised the fragility of the achievement behind the lounge. I sensed how relatively few such halcyon days there might be left before members of the small fraternity ensconced in its armchairs came to grief and its gilded ceilings cracked into ruin.
Perhaps it had felt a bit like this on the terraces of Hadrian’s villa outside Rome on autumn Sunday evenings in the second century AD, as a blood-red sun set over the marble colonnades.
From the outset, my employer had suggested that I might wish to conduct a brief interview with one of the most powerful men in the terminal: the head of British Airways, Willie Walsh. It was a daunting prospect, as Walsh was having a busy time of it. His company was losing an average of £1.6m a day, a total of £148m over the previous three months. His pilots and cabin crew were planning strikes. Studies showed that his baggage handlers misappropriated more luggage than their counterparts at any other European airline. The government wanted to tax his fuel. Environmental activists had been chaining themselves to his fences. He had done away with the free chocolates after every meal in business class, and in the process provoked a three-day furore in the British press.
Fortunately, I had come to the conclusion that though Mr Walsh was the CEO of one of the world’s largest airlines, it would be wholly unfair of me to treat him like a businessman. Considered collectively, civil aviation had never in its history shown a profit. Just as significantly, neither had book publishing. In this sense, then, the CEO and I, despite our apparent differences, were in much the same sort of business, each one needing to justify itself in the eyes of humanity not so much by its bottom line as by its ability to stir the soul.
The stock market could never put an accurate price on the thousands of moments of beauty and interest that occurred around the world every day under an airline’s banner: it could not describe the sight of Nova Scotia from the air; it had no means of quantifying the adrenaline thrill of take-off.
The logic of my argument was not lost on Mr Walsh, who had himself once been a pilot. As we talked, he expressed his admiration for the way planes could defy their size and the challenges of the atmosphere to soar into the sky. We remarked on the surprise we felt on seeing a 747 at a gate, dwarfing luggage carts and mechanics, at the idea that such a leviathan could move a few metres, let alone cross the Himalayas. We exclaimed over the beauty of a crowded airfield, where, through the heat haze of turbofans, one can make out sequences of planes waiting to begin their journeys, their fins a confusion of colours against the grey horizon, like sails at a regatta.
Emboldened, I asked whether, if he had any money left, he might consider appointing me his writer-in-flight,
in order that I might constantly circumnavigate the Earth composing, among other things, sincere dedications to my patron, impressionistic essays describing the ochre colours of the Western Australian desert as seen from the flight deck, and vignettes recounting the balletic routines of the stewards in the galley.
There was a pause, and for a moment the bonhomie disappeared from the chief executive’s eyes. But it soon returned. “Of course,” he beamed. “Once at Aer Lingus, the video system broke down, and we invited a couple of Irish minstrels to sing songs on a flight to New York. Alan, I could see you at the front of the cabin doing a ditty or two.” And then he apologised for taking up so much of my precious time and called for a security officer to escort me to the door of his corporate headquarters
http://www.alainedebutton.com/
Thursday, October 14, 2010
random finds and rambling
from pie magazines about me http://www.piepaper.com/ "newspaper" from new zeland. pretty awesome <3.
In chicago... http://www.deliciousdesignleague.com/
When autocad got tooo boring in sophmore year autocad 06, dont feel finished yet.
more recently ive been playing with the term bone memory, something brought upon by sehnsucht and apparat, feelings of loss and love pummeling into one. Also inconcievable, incomprehensible patterns, collages, with nothing but feeling, no matter how the "image" comes in, reffing personal symbilism, literall im more concearned no obsessed with the feeling/mood behind, abscence of shadow, chiarascurro, texture, are all just ploys and tools, ill post in progress images soon, for now just to write about the ideals helps, and most other descriptions are being lost to rambling text message conversations. feels good to have them at home
Monday, October 11, 2010
CS Lewis
By way of Sehnsucht, to further define and clarify my coincidences, bone memory, feelings otherwise at a loss for description unless by insanity
interesting that apparat's song sehnsucht brought me to this quote... despite.
...
"In speaking of this desire for our own faroff country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you—the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and cannot tell, though we desire to do both. We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it, and we betray ourselves like lovers at the mention of a name."
- the wieght of glory, cs lewis.
interesting that apparat's song sehnsucht brought me to this quote... despite.
...
"In speaking of this desire for our own faroff country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you—the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and cannot tell, though we desire to do both. We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it, and we betray ourselves like lovers at the mention of a name."
- the wieght of glory, cs lewis.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
agapo
i looked away,
you are a change in you
im not sure why
theres a possibility
can you tell me who i am?
hey you
im not sure why
these tears you do have something to do with
theres a chance most of it you dont
hey you
i dont feel any better
i wish it felt better
love
amor, amoris
love; affection; the beloved; Cupid; affair; sexual/illicit/homosexual passion;
affectus, affectus
affection, passion, love; friendly feeling (Cas); goodwill; loved ones (pl.);
adfectus, adfectus
affection, passion, love; friendly feeling (Cas); goodwill; loved ones (pl.);
amo, amare, amavi, amatuslove,
fall in love with; be fond of; have a tendency to;
affectio, affectionis
mental condition, mood, feeling, disposition; affection, love; purpose;
Notredame University Latin Dictionary
Agape
(αγάπη agápē) means "love" in modern day Greek, such as in the term s'agapo (Σ'αγαπώ), which means "I love you". In Ancient Greek, it often refers to a general affection or deeper sense of "true love" rather than the attraction suggested by "eros". Agape is used in the biblical passage known as the "love chapter", 1 Corinthians 13, and is described there and throughout the New Testament as sacrificial love. Agape is also used in ancient texts to denote feelings for a good meal, one's children, and the feelings for a spouse. It can be described as the feeling of being content or holding one in high regard.
Eros
(έρως érōs) is passionate love, with sensual desire and longing. The Modern Greek word "erotas" means "intimate love;" however, eros does not have to be sexual in nature. Eros can be interpreted as a love for someone whom you love more than the philia, love of friendship. It can also apply to dating relationships as well as marriage. Plato refined his own definition: Although eros is initially felt for a person, with contemplation it becomes an appreciation of the beauty within that person, or even becomes appreciation of beauty itself. Plato does not talk of physical attraction as a necessary part of love, hence the use of the word Platonic to mean, "without physical attraction." Plato also said eros helps the soul recall knowledge of beauty, and contributes to an understanding of spiritual truth. Lovers and philosophers are all inspired to seek truth by eros. The most famous ancient work on the subject of eros is Plato's Symposium, which is a discussion among the students of socrates on the nature of eros.
Philia
(φιλία philía) means friendship in modern Greek. It is a dispassionate virtuous love, a concept developed by Aristotle. It includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity. In ancient texts, philos denoted a general type of love, used for love between family, between friends, a desire or enjoyment of an activity, as well as between lovers.
Storge
(στοργή storgē) means "affection" in ancient and modern Greek. It is natural affection, like that felt by parents for offspring. Rarely used in ancient works, and then almost exclusively as a descriptor of relationships within the family. It is also known to express mere acceptance or putting up with situations, as in "loving" the tyrant
Wiki
Since you have in obedience to the truth purified your souls for a sincere love [phileo] of the brethren, fervently love [agape] one another from the heart.
1st peter 1-22
love; affection; the beloved; Cupid; affair; sexual/illicit/homosexual passion;
affectus, affectus
affection, passion, love; friendly feeling (Cas); goodwill; loved ones (pl.);
adfectus, adfectus
affection, passion, love; friendly feeling (Cas); goodwill; loved ones (pl.);
amo, amare, amavi, amatuslove,
fall in love with; be fond of; have a tendency to;
affectio, affectionis
mental condition, mood, feeling, disposition; affection, love; purpose;
Notredame University Latin Dictionary
Agape
(αγάπη agápē) means "love" in modern day Greek, such as in the term s'agapo (Σ'αγαπώ), which means "I love you". In Ancient Greek, it often refers to a general affection or deeper sense of "true love" rather than the attraction suggested by "eros". Agape is used in the biblical passage known as the "love chapter", 1 Corinthians 13, and is described there and throughout the New Testament as sacrificial love. Agape is also used in ancient texts to denote feelings for a good meal, one's children, and the feelings for a spouse. It can be described as the feeling of being content or holding one in high regard.
Eros
(έρως érōs) is passionate love, with sensual desire and longing. The Modern Greek word "erotas" means "intimate love;" however, eros does not have to be sexual in nature. Eros can be interpreted as a love for someone whom you love more than the philia, love of friendship. It can also apply to dating relationships as well as marriage. Plato refined his own definition: Although eros is initially felt for a person, with contemplation it becomes an appreciation of the beauty within that person, or even becomes appreciation of beauty itself. Plato does not talk of physical attraction as a necessary part of love, hence the use of the word Platonic to mean, "without physical attraction." Plato also said eros helps the soul recall knowledge of beauty, and contributes to an understanding of spiritual truth. Lovers and philosophers are all inspired to seek truth by eros. The most famous ancient work on the subject of eros is Plato's Symposium, which is a discussion among the students of socrates on the nature of eros.
Philia
(φιλία philía) means friendship in modern Greek. It is a dispassionate virtuous love, a concept developed by Aristotle. It includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity. In ancient texts, philos denoted a general type of love, used for love between family, between friends, a desire or enjoyment of an activity, as well as between lovers.
Storge
(στοργή storgē) means "affection" in ancient and modern Greek. It is natural affection, like that felt by parents for offspring. Rarely used in ancient works, and then almost exclusively as a descriptor of relationships within the family. It is also known to express mere acceptance or putting up with situations, as in "loving" the tyrant
Wiki
Since you have in obedience to the truth purified your souls for a sincere love [phileo] of the brethren, fervently love [agape] one another from the heart.
1st peter 1-22
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