cukursēne
22 April 2018 @ 01:38 pm
 
Dinner the first evening you are home?

Love,
Sidney

---

28th January 1946
Dear Sidney,

Yes, dinner with pleasure. I'll wear my new dress and eat like a pig.


//Mary Ann Schaffer, Annie Barrows, 2008, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
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cukursēne
17 April 2018 @ 03:26 pm
 
starp zobiem šņirkst smiltis, jo aizmirsu, ka pusdienu kastītē vedu uz jūrmalu kruasānus, un iebēru savas pusdienas, kastīti nemazgājot
 
 
cukursēne
17 April 2018 @ 01:47 pm
 
laiku pa laikam aiz ieraduma palūkojos uz vakancēm, ja nu gadījumā atrodas, ko ieteikt draugiem. šodien pamanīju, ka zooloģiskais dārzs meklē uzraugu. es nezinu, kāpēc, bet man tas šķiet kaut kā šarmanti, būt par zooloģiskā dārza uzraugu.
 
 
cukursēne
17 April 2018 @ 01:42 pm
onwards to the past  
"Manuprāt, šī bija ļoti noderīga izstāde, jo tas jauniešiem ir nepieciešams, jaunieši degradējas un ir nepieciešams tos atgriezt pagātnē."
 
 
cukursēne
12 April 2018 @ 10:36 pm
laiks  
šobrīd man ļoti vajadzētu kādas pāris dienas, kurās diennakts ir 36h gara, lai paspētu visu, kas ir aktuāli un vēl kaut cik izgulētos
 
 
cukursēne
12 April 2018 @ 02:43 am
 
šonakt arī mostos ik pēc stundas no visādiem saspringtiem, haotiskiem sapņiem, kuros man jāpilda dažādi "aizej tur - nezin kur, atnes to - nezin ko" stila uzdevumi
 
 
cukursēne
10 April 2018 @ 10:05 am
 
ienīstu to riebīgo Vecrīgas bruģi, jo sevišķi tad, kad tas mistiskā veidā pārdur manam velo riepu
 
 
cukursēne
08 April 2018 @ 11:58 pm
 
The purpose of morality is to teach you, not to suffer and die, but to enjoy yourself and live.

(..)

You who are worshippers of the zero - you have never discovered that achieving life is not the equivalent of avoiding death. Joy is not "the absence of pain", intelligence is not "the absence of stupidity", light is not "the absence of darkness", an entity is not "the absence of non-entity". Building is not done by abstaining from demolition (..). Existence is not a negation of negatives. Evil, not value, is an absence and a negation, evil is impotent and has no power but that which we let it extort from us.

Perish, because we have learned that zero cannot hold a mortgage over life. You seek escape from pain. We seek the achievement of happiness. (..) Threats will not make us function; fear is not our incentive. It is not death which we wish to avoid, but life that we wish to live.


//Ayn Rand, 1957, Atlas Shrugged
 
 
cukursēne
02 April 2018 @ 02:18 pm
 
Well, the man who despises himself tries to gain self-esteem from sexual adventures — which can't be done, because sex is not the cause, but an effect and an expression of a man's sense of his own value.

The men who think that wealth comes from material resources and has no intellectual root or meaning, are the men who think—for the same reason—that sex is a physical capacity which functions independently of one's mind, choice or code of values. They think that your body creates a desire and makes a choice for you—just about in some such way as if iron ore transformed itself into railroad rails of its own volition. Love is blind, they say; sex is impervious to reason and mocks the power of all philosophers. But, in fact, a man's sexual choice is the result and the sum of his fundamental convictions. Tell me what a man finds sexually attractive and I will tell you his entire philosophy of life. Show me the woman he sleeps with and I will tell you his valuation of himself.

No matter what corruption he's taught about the virtue of selflessness, sex is the most profoundly selfish of all acts, an act which he cannot perform for any motive but his own enjoyment—just try to think of performing it in a spirit of selfless charity!—an act which is not possible in self-abasement, only in self-exaltation, only in the confidence of being desired and being worthy of desire. It is an act that forces him to stand naked in spirit, as well as in body, and to accept his real ego as his standard of value. He will always be attracted to the woman who reflects his deepest vision of himself, the woman whose surrender permits him to experience—or to fake—a sense of self-esteem. The man who is proudly certain of his own value, will want the highest type of woman he can find, the woman he admires, the strongest, the hardest to conquer—because only the possession of a heroine will give him the sense of an achievement, not the possession of a brainless slut. He does not seek to gain his value, he seeks to express it. There is no conflict between the standards of his mind and the desires of his body. But the man who is convinced of his own worthlessness will be drawn to a woman he despises—because she will reflect his own secret self, she will release him from that objective reality in which he is a fraud, she will give him a momentary illusion of his own value and a momentary escape from the moral code that damns him.

Observe the ugly mess which most men make of their sex lives—and observe the mess of contradictions which they hold as their moral philosophy. One proceeds from the other. Love is our response to our highest values—and can be nothing else. Let a man corrupt his values and his view of existence, let him profess that love is not self-enjoyment but self-denial, that virtue consists, not of pride, but of pity or pain or weakness or sacrifice, that the noblest love is born, not of admiration, but of charity, not in response to values, but in response to flaws—and he will have cut himself in two. (..) His body will always follow the ultimate logic of his deepest convictions; if he believes that flaws are values, he has damned existence as evil and only the evil will attract him. He has damned himself and he will feel that depravity is all he is worthy of enjoying. He has equated virtue with pain and he will feel that vice is the only realm of pleasure. Then he will scream that his body has vicious desires of its own which his mind cannot conquer, that sex is sin, that true love is a pure emotion of the spirit. And then he will wonder why love brings him nothing but boredom, and sex—nothing but shame.

Ayn Rand, 1957, Atlas Shrugged
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cukursēne
02 April 2018 @ 01:16 pm
 
man patīk nejauši uzdurties literatūrai vai akadēmiskiem tekstiem, kas pēkšņi kādu daļu manas pārliecības par dzīvi izvelk virspusē, kas tik skaidri un spoži ilustrē kādu fenomenu, ko esmu intuitīvi nojautusi, bet varbūt vēl neesmu līdz galam precīzi formulējusi - tas ir gandrīz tikpat sajūsminoši un dzirkstoši priecīgi, kā saprast, ka man izdevies likt ekselim izdarīt kaut ko, ko es no tā vēlos, bet iepriekš neesmu mācējusi.

---

es domāju, ka lepoties ar sevi ir svarīga lieta, kas ir jāmācās. nebūt ne uzpūtīgam, ne lieki pieticīgam. tas prasa daudz pašrefleksijas un godīguma, un cilvēki, kas slīgst uzpūtībā un/vai pazemībā (jā, ir iespējams īstenot abas lietas vienlaicīgi), to bieži nesaprot un nosoda, kā es esmu no savas "pašaizliedzīgās" pozīcijas nosodījusi pati sevi, ejot šo sevis pilnvērtīgas apzināšanās taku, un reizēm joprojām attopos šai tendencē sevi rāt par vienkārši veselīgas pašapziņas iezīmēm. paldies terapeitei, M. un maniem draugiem, kas man palīdz arvien vairāk rāpties ārā no šīs pretrunīgā melīguma bedres.
 
 
cukursēne
01 April 2018 @ 12:13 am
 
iecirtu durvīs pirkstu. pohuj. bet tomēr sāp.
 
 
cukursēne
30 March 2018 @ 05:36 pm
 
The lover you forsake in dreams becomes a wolf at daybreak:
run softly, leave no trace,
pass light-footed through the years.
Or else lie down with the wolf, let her find you.
One drop of blood will suffice.
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cukursēne
21 March 2018 @ 12:42 am
mans varonis  
žēlojos M., ka neesmu vēl iebraukusi visādās lietās jaunajā darbā, bet tad viņš man atgādināja, ka es tajā esmu nostrādājusi tieši divas dienas. tad mēs ilgi smējāmies, jo, nu, šis ir jauns pārspīlētas centības līmenis pat man.
 
 
cukursēne
15 March 2018 @ 11:31 pm
triggers  
slippery slope, damn it
 
 
cukursēne
15 March 2018 @ 12:13 pm
 
tikai tikko sapratu, ka LV kultūras sfērā darbojas divas dažādas tumšādainas aminatas
 
 
cukursēne
15 March 2018 @ 11:24 am
apgrieztā psiholoģija?  
Iebrukusi Latvijas garākā ala; interesentus aicina turēties pa gabalu
 
 
cukursēne
14 March 2018 @ 11:22 pm
 
Though the ostensible reason for her not having wanted Yeong-hye to be discharged, the reason that she gave the doctor, was this worry about a possible relapse, now she was able to admit to herself what had really been going on. She was no longer able to cope with all that her sister reminded her of. She’d been unable to forgive her for soaring alone over a boundary she herself could never bring herself to cross, unable to forgive that magnificent irresponsibility that had enabled Yeong-hye to shuck off social constraints and leave her behind, still a prisoner. And before Yeong-hye had broken those bars, she’d never even known they were there. (..)

The feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. It was a fact. She had never lived. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had done nothing but endure. She had believed in her own inherent goodness, her humanity, and lived accordingly, never causing anyone harm. Her devotion to doing things the right way had been unflagging, all her success had depended on it, and she would have gone on like that indefinitely. She didn’t understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never lived.

// Han Kang, The Vegetarian
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cukursēne
13 March 2018 @ 04:52 pm
 
man tikko zvanīja svešs vīrietis, kuru, ciktāl man zināms, nekad neesmu satikusi un nepazīstu, apgalvoja, ka esot mūzikas kritiķis, un aicināja nākt ar viņu uz koncertu. tas viss bija tik absurdi, ka es joprojām īsti nesaprotu, kā un kāpēc tas notika.
 
 
cukursēne
12 March 2018 @ 01:01 pm
īpaši vieds saturs  
viedeo
 
 
cukursēne
05 March 2018 @ 05:58 am
 
wow, umm. esmu piecēlusies superlaicīgi, lai uztaisītu pusdienas šodienai līdzi un būtu darbā pēc septiņiem, bet es to nevaru īsti neko pagatavot, jo mājā (ne tikai dzīvoklī) nav elektrības. man ir aizdomas, ka elektrības zudums ir vēl plašākā mērogā, jo ārā nedeg arī ielu lampas. un gaitenī ož pēc sviluma. šis ir mulsinoši.