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Online nowIvanananan: ivana is a 24 year old woman from Pancevo, Serbia.; Likes 1,382 pages, 161 videos, 100 photos • 182 fans • Received 31 reviews; Member since Sep 07, 2006

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"The Crack In The Cosmic Egg" light version: May 11, 2:23pm 3 reviews music-instruments
http://myweb.tiscali.co.uk/ultimathule/krautrockers.html; This reduced web-version of our Krautrock encyclopedia "The Crack In The Cosmic Egg" only includes bands and artists from the era 1967-1980. Group line-ups are restricted to the first known/fully detailed line-up. Discographies are original vinyl and cassette releases only. Also omitted are: historical entries, jazz and avant-garde musicians, and any bands that never debuted with a release until the 1980's.

http://nobby.sakura.ne.jp/stumbleimg/yoko.jpg: May 10, 7:52am 1 review
http://nobby.sakura.ne.jp/stumbleimg/yoko.jpg; "This room moves at the same speed as the clouds"
from nobbyjp.stumbleupon.com [nobbyjp.stumbleupon.com]

http://a39.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/62/l_e047f232f4062aad9f03694a22c993…: May 9, 2:04am 0 review electrical-eng
http://a39.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/62/l_e047f232f4062aad9f03694a22c...

intermezzzo: May 4, 11:52am 1 review paranormal
http://www.intermezzzo.net/vianvadisrce2.htm; Boris Vian, "Vadisrce"

Orthodoxy by Gilbert K. Chesterton, Chapter 3: May 3, 1:56am 3 reviews philosophy
http://www.leaderu.com/cyber/books/orthodoxy/ch3.html; "(...)Nietzsche had some natural talent for sarcasm: he could sneer, though he could not laugh; but there is always something bodiless and without weight in his satire, simply because it has not any mass of common morality behind it. He is himself more preposterous than anything he denounces. But, indeed, Nietzsche will stand very well as the type of the whole of this failure of abstract violence. The softening of the brain which ultimately overtook him was not a physical accident. If Nietzsche had not ended in imbecility, Nietzscheism would end in imbecility. Thinking in isolation and with pride ends in being an idiot. Every man who will not have softening of the heart must at last have softening of the brain.
This last attempt to evade intellectualism ends in intellectualism, and therefore in death. The sortie has failed. The wild worship of lawlessness and the materialist worship of law end in the same void. Nietzsche scales staggering mountains, but he turns up ultimately in Tibet. He sits down beside Tolstoy in the land of nothing and Nirvana. They are both helpless -- one because he must not grasp anything, and the other because he must not let go of anything. The Tolstoyan's will is frozen by a Buddhist instinct that all special actions are evil. But the Nietzscheite's will is quite equally frozen by his view that all special actions are good; for if all special actions are good, none of them are special. They stand at the crossroads, and one hates all the roads and the other likes all the roads. The result is -- well, some things are not hard to calculate. They stand at the cross-roads(...)
They are all on the road to the emptiness of the asylum. For madness may be defined as using mental activity so as to reach mental helplessness; and they have nearly reached it. He who thinks he is made of glass, thinks to the destruction of thought; for glass cannot think. So he who wills to reject nothing, wills the destruction of will; for will is not only the choice of something, but the rejection of almost everything.
Joan of Arc was not stuck at the cross-roads, either by rejecting all the paths like Tolstoy, or by accepting them all like Nietzsche. She chose a path, and went down it like a thunderbolt. Yet Joan, when I came to think of her, had in her all that was true either in Tolstoy or Nietzsche, all that was even tolerable in either of them. I thought of all that is noble in Tolstoy, the pleasure in plain things, especially in plain pity, the actualities of the earth, the reverence for the poor, the dignity of the bowed back. Joan of Arc had all that and with this great addition, that she endured poverty as well as admiring it; whereas Tolstoy is only a typical aristocrat trying to find out its secret. And then I thought of all that was brave and proud and pathetic in poor Nietzsche, and his mutiny against the emptiness and timidity of our time. I thought of his cry for the ecstatic equilibrium of danger, his hunger for the rush of great horses, his cry to arms. Well, Joan of Arc had all that, and again with this difference, that she did not praise fighting, but fought. We know that she was not afraid of an army, while Nietzsche, for all we know, was afraid of a cow. Tolstoy only praised the peasant; she was the peasant. Nietzsche only praised the warrior; she was the warrior. She beat them both at their own antagonistic ideals; she was more gentle than the one, more violent than the other. Yet she was a perfectly practical person who did something, while they are wild speculators who do nothing. It was impossible that the thought should not cross my mind that she and her faith had perhaps some secret of moral unity and utility that has been lost(...)
The love of a hero is more terrible than the hatred of a tyrant. The hatred of a hero is more generous than the love of a philanthropist. There is a huge and heroic sanity of which moderns can only collect the fragments(...)."

YouTube - Sanatorium Pod Klepsydra: May 2, 5:13am 1 review movies, video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H0qb2W0ldjc; Consider how you might film the following: "Fall is a great touring show, poetically deceptive, an enormous purple-skinned onion disclosing ever new panoramas under each of its skins. No center can be reached. Behind each wing that is moved and stored away, new and radiant scenes open up, true and alive for a moment, until you realize that they are made of cardboard. All perspectives are painted, and only the smell is authentic, the smell of wilting scenery or theatrical dressing rooms, a pile up of discarded costumes among which you wade endlessly as if through yellow fallen leaves."
Wojciech Has's "The Sandglass" (also known as "The Hour-Glass Sanatorium") is a web-like film, spinning together strands from a dozen stories by Bruno Schulz into a haunting transcendental vision exploring the process of decay as it relates to memory and culture.

May 2, 4:59am: Left alone with the again lifeless wax figures, Joseph prepares to shoot himself but is stopped by an officer who arrests him for having a dream that was criticized in high places.

http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r68/giancarletto/FILM/BERGMAN/image.asp710425…: May 2, 3:44am 1 review movies
http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r68/giancarletto/FILM/BERGMAN/image.asp710...; The smallest wound or pain of the ego is examined under a microscope as if it were of eternal importance. The artist considers his isolation, his subjectivity, his individualism almost holy. Thus we finally gather in one large pen, where we stand and bleat about our loneliness without listening to each other and without realizing that we are smothering each other to death. The individualists stare into each other's eyes and yet deny the existence of each other.

The demons are innumerable, arrive at the most inappropriate times and create panic and terror... but I have learned that if I can master the negative forces and harness them to my chariot, then they can work to my advantage.... Lilies often grow out of carcasses' arseholes.
--As quoted in "Bergman talks of his dreams and demons in rare interview" by Xan Brooks, The Guardian (12 December 2001)