. . .8.05 pm
notes from the Pill Box Observatory:
astonishing pre rain sky
rose blue black
the exact color of certain bruises…
and a flowering contradiction:
a promise (of no rain tomorrow) overshadowed by its betrayal tonight.
In G2, again, today: more Camus!
Was I merely ahead of a swell that was already gathering?
Are we headed for a summer of -- existentialism?
Cute young NO LOGO babe speed dates with middle aged (but still spunky) NO FUTURE chin stroker, in a post-“war” rush to self judgement?
PANIC IN RE-TRAIT
“In my dreams, I find myself standing beside the wreckage of Camus’ car, picking up the copy of The Gay Science which he had beside him when he died. And I think of that other text of Europe in Ruins, The Rebel, where Camus says that pure virtue without realism is homicidal and realism without ethics is cynical murder.”
PANIC ART IN RUINS // pp31 PANIC Encyclopedia.
Kroker/Kroker/Cook [Macmillan 1989]
FRIEDDYS GARDEN ARMY
Architecture for the search for knowledge. -- One day, and probably soon, we need some recognition of what above all is lacking in our big cities: quiet and wide, expansive places for reflection. Places with long, high-ceilinged cloisters for bad or all too sunny weather where no shouting or noise […] can reach and where good manners would prohibit even priests from praying aloud - buildings and sites that would altogether give expression to the sublimity of thoughtfulness and of stepping aside. The time is past when the church possessed a monopoly on reflection, when the vita contemplativa always had to be first of all a vita religiosa; and everything built by the church gives expression to that idea. I do not see how we could remain content with such buildings even if they were stripped of their churchly purposes. The langauge spoken by these buildings is far too rhetorical and unfree, reminding us that they are houses of God and ostentatious monuments of some supramundane intercourse; we who are godless could not think our thoughts in such surroundings. We wish to see ourselves translated into stone and plants, we want to take walks in ourselves when we stroll around these buildings and gardens.
Friedrich Nietzsche. pp 226-227 The Gay Science
posted by Ian 4/28/2003 09:08:00 PM