(un)justly (un)read

warming up to these Zaderatsky preludes in c# and c:

in potentia

Have we said enough now, and can we be released? [...] No; we must sing another incantation, if we can find another one that works against the pain. Perhaps what we have already said would do, if someone were to chant it repeatedly.

("Whenever I was downcast I asked Pistorius to play that passacaglia by the old master Buxtehude. Then I sat in the dark church in the evening, lost in that strange, intimate music which seemed to be submerged in itself, to be listening to itself[.]")

people often mention that some of Wittgenstein's inheritance went to Rilke and Trakl, but we should also remember he sent a stranger in need some underwear he could spare—you dropped your crown, king:

while looking for more context regarding a Wittgenstein quote used as an epigraph by Zwicky, i became merrily lost in the weeds—here are some colourful excerpts from Drury's Conversations with Wittgenstein:

Mendelssohn's Variations sérieuses, op. 54 played by Brendel

some slippery fishes:

drollololololol:

Horowitz playing Rach's sonata no. 2, II. non allegro.

“If walking on two legs is not natural to man it is certainly an invention that does him credit.”

Yang Chu (c. 350 B.C.) wept at the cross-roads because whichever road he chose would lead to a new cross-roads and multiply the chances of having lost his way.

occasionally, this riotous scene, this Kafka-like parable by Werner Herzog comes to mind:

(the) two types of poet: