Soling Sailboat Specs

Nozick: when art reflects on itself

" Every day I attach less value to intelligence. Every day I see more and more aware that only the writer no matter it can recapture some of his impressions, which is something he and the only material of art. "

These sentences of Proust, at the beginning of Against Saint-Beuve (this is an essay that Proust did not publish because they never got to give it a final shape, and the drafting of which swelled up to be confused with the genesis of Recherche ; they were published, posthumously, two different versions) show the question about which he is deep thinking will take shape at a time when the idea of \u200b\u200b Recherche : What is the relationship between life and art? In other words: what is the relationship between the experience of a man's life and works of art that he (eventually) produce? This issue has two sides. Applies to those who, faced with a work, questions the weight in the interpretation of it is attributable to the author's life. But it also applies to those who poses the problem of artistic genesis: how the author came to produce this work? More generally: how comes to artistic creation?
Proust in Against Sainte-Beuve , addresses both problems. On the one hand the decisive attack "Biography", played by literary critic Sainte-Beuve, arguing that it makes no sense to judge a work based on the author's life, but it 's work itself which should be examined thoroughly, know in detail and overall structure. On the other hand develop a theoretical core of the genesis of art, which will boost the production of his masterpiece and which will form the backbone of Time Regained, the last volume of the Recherche .
In the passage quoted at the beginning what Proust called "intelligence" will be specified then, in Recherche as "amicus", which is opposite the famous "involuntary memory".

Also in those lines, Proust uses a fascinating metaphor for me: the "matter of art." It is a metaphor because, obviously, if we are to the 'art' in a general sense we are dealing primarily with a concept, not a concrete object. But even if intendessimo speak of a single work of art (and here we do not necessarily great art, but something that simply can oppose science and technology, in the sense that it aims to have either a cognitive function, or a 'practical use), for example a sculpture, a painting, a novel, a film, it is clear that to which Proust refers is not the matter with which these things are done. He does not speak of it is made of marble sculpture, or paint combined with canvas or paper soaked with ink, or the light filtering through the celluloid film. But then what Proust alludes to the metaphor of a "matter of art?
We can get a response by comparing an artist to children well playing on the beach and build sand castles. What plays with the baby? With the sand, definitely. But his "stuff" is not only the sand also plays with the fantasies around the castle he is building.
play with what the sculptor, painter, the musician, writer, filmmaker? Surely with the colors, tactile sensations, with sounds, with words, with pictures. But even with the patterns, with memories, with emotion, with ideas. They play with their experiences , in the broadest sense of that term. Not so "experience" in the narrow sense of sense perception, but in the broadest sense has taught us that the phenomenology : perceptions, memories, imaginations, emotions, desires, thoughts ... (For a first approach to the phenomenology Board Elements of a teaching experience John Plain).

Path in Time Regained :

"... understand how life can be considered mediocre, although at times appeared so beautiful, because we judge (and price) on the basis of something else that she herself, in pictures of her, nothing conserved. (...) Yes, if I remember, thanks to oblivion, it was able to make any connection, throw no bridge between himself and the present moment: if it has remained in her own place, its own data, if conserved distance, its isolation in the depths of a valley or on top of a mountain, it suddenly makes us breathe new air, - new because it's who has already an air breathed in the past - that air purest vain poets have tried to reign in heaven, and that could give us this feeling of deep renews if it had not been breathing, because the true paradises are the paradises we have lost. (...)
different impressions of happiness they shared this: that I felt at once in the present moment and at a distance, so as to catch the past on the present, to make me hesitant to establish which of the two I was. Indeed, the resolutions to be in me then that impression (...) in the deliberations that she had to extratemporal: a being who only appeared when, for one such identity between the present and the past, he could be in the one element which is given to live, and enjoy the essence of things: ie outside of time.
(...) How many times in my life, the reality had disappointed me, because when we perceive the imagination, which was the only body which has had to enjoy the beauty, could not apply to it, which wants to law quell'inflessibile that only things missing are imaginable! And then, suddenly, the effect of the harsh law was neutralized, suspended by a beautiful contrivance of nature, who had flashed a feeling (...) at the same time in the past, which enabled my imagination enjoy it, and this, in which the (...) shock was added to the ghosts of the imagination what they are usually lacking, the idea of \u200b\u200bexistence, and, (...) had allowed my being to grasp, to isolate, to stop, for duration of a flash, what it usually does not capture ever: a fragment of time in pure form. (...)

just a noise, smell, hearing or already breathed once more, they are again, at a time in the past and present, real without being actual, ideal without being abstract, because now the ' permanent and usually hidden essence of things is liberated, and that our true self (...) you awake, you spirits, getting the heavenly food that is offered. A moment freed by the temporal re-created in us, to feel it, man freed by the temporal.

(...) I had to try to interpret the sensations as signs of many laws and ideas, trying to think, that is to get out of the shadows that I had tried to convert it into a spiritual equivalent. Now that half, which seemed the only one, which could consist in if not in creating a work of art? (...) Their first feature was that I was not free to choose, I Came dates as they are. And I sensed that this was to just be a sign of their authenticity.

(...) So, I now come to this conclusion, that we are not free before a work of art, which does not compose at will, but that existing in us, we must, since it is at once necessary and hidden, and as we would for a law of nature, discover it.

(...) Real life, life is finally discovered and the light, then the only life truly lived, is literature. (...) Style, for the writer, (...) is the revelation, not by direct means and conscious of the qualitative difference that exists in the way we see the world, except that if there was not ' art, would remain the eternal secret of each one. Only through art is given to us out of ourselves, to know what another person sees (...) Thanks to art, instead of seeing a single world, our own, we see it multiply, and many are the original artists, many more worlds are at our disposal, different from each other even more than the infinite worlds spinning.

(...) This artist's work, aimed at trying to see under a certain subject under a certain amount of experience, on certain words, something else, is exactly opposite to what, at any time, when we live reversed by ourselves, pride, passion, intelligence, and also the habit, they engage us, amassing over our genuine impressions, to hide the other classification, practical purposes, we give the wrong name "life".

L Hawkins Pressure Cooker Safety Valve

The paradox of the library of Babel

Franca D'Agostini

The Library of Babel is a famous and extraordinary story of Jorge Luis Borges. (1) It tells of a library so vast as to constitute a universe.

Borges describes the architectural structure with an apparent precision, modular, in this universe. I say apparent, because if you try to make an ultimate image of what Borges describes discover that the form is actually receding. Borges speaks of hexagonal galleries, stacked one on top (any hex you see the upper floors and lower endlessly "), connected vertically by spiral staircases. The problem is how they are connected to each other horizontally." Twenty-five large shelves, at a rate of five per side, covering all sides except one. (...) The free side opens onto a narrow corridor that leads to another gallery, identical to the first and all. "The problem is that if each gallery is like any other, and then there is only one side shelved and not open to the outside, this means that there may be only pairs of hexagons connected by a corridor connecting. Or is it then a universe composed of many hexagonal twin towers (but then you have to imagine that all the various trips and the travels described in hereinafter should be substantially vertically to the other / down) or you have to imagine that the hexagons stacked one on top does not have all the hall opened on the same side, but that each side has a different level, perhaps progressing clockwise or counterclockwise ... (But what about the vertical columns? And then: how long the corridors than in hexagons? It 's a world of towers "starred" Allen, whose section is like a snowflake?) (2)

Another and far more important question the story asks if you want to take it seriously. The library appears to be composed of a countless number of volumes, so high as to seem infinite, but the number is not Finally, as this is all possible combinations of 25 characters (22 letters, comma, point and space) in volumes consisting of 410 pages, each with 40 lines (40 characters per line). (3 ) At the end of the story, the narrator speculates that the library is infinite but merely means that the endless series of volumes could be repeated periodically many times.
The crux is this: this library contains "everything that is given to express, in all languages."

We remove the issue of the innumerable and overwhelming volumes meaningless, monstrous with jumbles of letters, we exclude by assumption the volumes hybrids, with fragments of meaning that sail in seas of "senseless cacophony "(which also focuses on topics most of the narrative development). We only consider the volumes sensible . We are still faced with the paradoxical idea: the amount of things can be expressed is not infinite !

This means For example, that works of art that can burn are a finite number, so that in the long literature is destined to end, unless you do not have to repeat, but also possible that scientific theories are not infinite, then some point the search will end because we discovered everything there was to be discovered.
And the story? It would seem that as long as the story progresses, the books tell it must always be different, but so what? We must conclude that since the amount of things we can give is over then the story should stop?
And here we arrive at the true paradox: suppose to take only the history books in the library of Babel. There are many, but a finite number. Assume that each volume tells the story of a century, and that history never repeats itself but always different. It could be argued as follows: although large, the number of volumes of history of the Library of Babel will n, corresponding to n centuries. But the story could take n +1 century. The volume detailing the century n +1 is not contained in the library. Let us ask ourselves, though: the volume that describes the century n +1 is not, however, made up of characters like the others? If the library contains all possible combinations of characters that should also contain the volume?

But languages \u200b\u200bare not historical entity?
assume that the letters of the alphabet (no matter whether they are 21, 26 or other number) they represent a reasonably effective manner in all the sounds the human vocal apparatus is able to produce (we speak of the human species: of course we can say that the human species is evolving and future sounds producible may be different, but then I would say however that the range of sounds occur in the future should not be infinite ...).
Good. AThis section also changes the lexical, grammatical, syntactic change produced by the history of languages \u200b\u200bare "captured" by the hypothesis of the set of all possible combinations of this finite number of characters multiplied exponentially by the number of characters per line, lines per page and so on. At one point created a new word? It 's definitely already in the Library. A new grammatical form? For this is the same speech.
The point is that if a linguistic form is can (say) then exists in the Library.

The strange thing, disturbing, is the finiteness of the Library.
At this point one might argue, because the volume must be 410 pages and no more, or less? I would answer that it is necessary to think of a sufficiently large number of pages per volume because this number is the width of 'unity of meaning hypothesized that if we should speak of works of art, scientific works and so on. The two numbers important to formulate the paradox, is the number of characters of the alphabet and the number of pages per volume is only important that rspecificrequirements are numbers that correspond more or less the natural reality of the alphabets and volumes in which usually expresses the human mind, but it is obviously important as numbers are concerned.
Another objection: a work may require multiple volumes (eg Recherche of Proust). We can always imagine, however, a work of this kind exists in the library anyway, even if the "spread" on a number of volumes perhaps different (and perhaps the last hundred pages could be made sensible, by the end of the work, and then blank pages: remember that in the base font should also think about the space, and blank pages may be understood as an iteration of space).

The contrast of the fund, which produces the paradox lies in the finiteness of the Library compared to the likely multitude of things / events that can be described, cast, narrated, theorized.


(1) The story is in the collection Fictions, which in turn includes two collections. In the foreword to the first, The Garden of Forking Paths , Borges writes: "I'm not the first author of the story The Library of Babel, the curious to its history and prehistory will be able to query a certain page number 59 of" Sur ", which contains the names of diverse and Lasswitz Leucippus, Aristotle and Lewis Carroll." The Universal Library
of Lasswitz, is an important antecedent of story by Borges.
(2) Mauro Boffardi has gone much further in trying to figure out the structure ... The description of Borges was also analyzed by Umberto Eco in his essay Les sous la pluie semaphores.
(3) Daniele Raffo has built a simulator that allows you to browse pages for the Library of Babel . Just try it!

How To Know Imptegio Is Gone

The Love that moves the sun and other stars

Sometimes it happens that the reality beyond all hope, expectation, anticipation.
Sometimes it happens that all the pain go away to make room for positive events.
It happens to feel so happy that I could not make out the contours of sentiment. The harvest of cultivated
emotions in patience and silence.
The tiger roared. A team victory, a victory of Friends. Could there be any other sport to bind us, would not change one iota the strength of our struggle together, our knitted dress the same, the share of the company's efforts.
Since I started riding I figured something perfectly knew would never have happened. Win.
Winning not for me, but for those around me, people for whom I pedal and who finds the strength to do so. For the grandfather Gino, who spent a minute in each session of rollers facing the wall, in the winter dawns. For Ivan, a captain and leader, a friend who can guide and advise. For Fabrizio, my guardian angel.
for Christ that led me to love the bike, and now has much more important goals in front. For Mark who put me on the street and took me in when pedaling.
For the family, to whom we owe everything. Winning
to give and share joy. Win to help others participate in a success.
It happens sometimes that you dream of sharing a moment together with an idol. I've had only had and always one, the only sport for which I have real admiration, the last witness of cycling romantic. What happens is that an hour after the end of 24 hours you are riding alongside Gilberto Simoni.
What happens is that everything is in place because Ivan closes in a glorious way that organized the event with a passion that only he can make, but the jury decides to block the changes and the fate that I should have to give the final touches to the picture . It happens that at 50 hour feels only his own name shouted by those who are there to see you and push you. What happens is that despite a tremendous effort it feels like a motor that never stops, powered by a gasoline which is called Love.
happens that the head of the track rumbles-Fab Ivan09, the 3min 42sec and more intense in 2009.
happens for the first time in my life, to have the eyes of him who is beautifully beside me, looking at me dressed as freedom. It happens that I do not understand if I have to laugh, to cry from happiness, to breathe, scream, or just keep on cycling, with everything I have and everything I have.
And the last two rounds, five minutes with no time to let oxygen in and out, imagining a joy to sports than ever.
full of smiles and the faces of those who were part of the festival.
And the tiger on his back, all the photos for us, the stage, the Team.

It all started June 21, 2009, the goal of Piazza Maggiore. From
there the pieces began to fit together, the design began to take color. No meeting, no kilometer, no decisions have been random.
The party was moving away from such a framework too large to be able to see and understand closely. Saying goodbye was difficult, very difficult, knowing what you have left.
Who went to the inn senz'oste September 12 will always be with me.
Massi, thanks.
See our video and not be able to hold back the tears, even two months after dinner and the bowl of tomatoes to finish (the living Pitussi).
Back at Christmas, see you and know to leave for the cooler months and more white, not snow but because without color. Finding
two great friends in Stockholm and understand everything that is wrong and everything to be redone.
And finally, the light, the star. My Stella. Above
Feltre there were so many Saturday night. My
had a camera in hand. And my speed was fleeting desire to backcross his eyes as soon as possible at each step.
's grandfather, Ivan, and Massi, Paola Fabrizio, Cristiano, Mark, Mom and Dad, Arianna, the Friends of Stockholm.
But the plan has the frame if you're there.
And the joy is joy only true if you're there.

Project Estonian ends here.
Like everything, comes, look with curiosity at the world suffers, blooms spring.
Project Estonian born a year ago, when my hand and that of Ivan concluded with the company that will remain for me the business of life, with the most true and deep meaning. Estonian
Project's aim to look at that picture a bit farther. Estonian
Project is the story of a departure and a search. Estonian
Project was a seed planted in the ground, from which was born more colorful and fragrant flower.
As for the 24 hours, so for my flower, reality has gone beyond the most optimistic to hope.
Today, one year later, I'm happy. I have a project not Estonian, I have goals all aimed at one goal. I
, Estonia, remain. I do not know for that, but I stay.
My work today is here.
After months of difficulty and the environment, I now feel more at ease and this is the time to reap the rewards. Fabio
certainly return home. Now he knows what the design of the framework;
a light, strong, enlightened him.

"but already was turning my desire and velvet,
ch'igualmente Even as a wheel is moved,
the Love that moves the sun and other stars. "

Country Song That Goes Du Du Du Dun

suspended in air. Suggestions philosophical starting with "Atom Heart Mother" by Pink Floyd

In the first part of the first suite that opens and gives the title to the famous Pink Floyd album is an area that I was immediately struck since the first Once I heard it. And 'the minute they go about 2:32 to 3:33 (you can listen to the song here , combined with a video which does not correspond to the images that I propose in this post).
After an introduction that I would call semi-strawinskiana, after an orchestral piece of pompous character (with the use of trumpets and horns), after a part of nitrite with horses, gunfire and the roar of motorcycles (which seems to evoke something catastrophic ) after a return of the epic and pompous character who comes here: it is a piece of absolute calm, in which the sound of a cello (or viola?) seems to rise gently in the air, floating off the ground and then suspended losing more weight and more references gravity. The two lines that accompany it (two guitars) seem to drive them from the bottom with smooth, but never touched down, like a magnetic field buffer. And the suspended object, represented by the cello, tilts, tips, back to the starting position but now to dizzying heights. It is then driven by the same forces which, however, take more speed (the arpeggio is driving electric guitars and swirling), then in another area to conduct peaceful, in which the cello disappears and only the electric guitars are smooth.
We try to give a philosophical meaning to this short story sound.
original chaos. First assertion of strength and organization. Catastrophe. New assertion of strength that grows up to run out again. Empty moment in which, however, you can lift from the ground, hovering no reference points, leaving move by fluid forces.
The dream of not being subject to gravity has been achieved, culturally speaking, when we discovered the relativity of values. But in this void, this nothingness, this paradoxical suspension of reason must be able to move with elegance, we must learn to float on the fluid forces, however, that we move with great awareness and attention, a little 'how to hang glide with a ...


was the recent release of a novel by Michele Mari, one of the greatest writers Italian contemporaries, entitled Floyd Red .
It seems that the album Atom Heart Mother (1970) marks the transition from the psychedelic rock of Pink Floyd to progressive rock, a genre that often recalls classical music. The mixture of electric guitar and cello is perfectly balanced here, but the use of classical instruments like the cello in the music "uncultured" had already been explored, for example in the Beatles Eleanor Rigby .

What Ties Goes With Grey Shirt

Jovanotti: Not bores me and I think positive. Life, time, wisdom, optimism

The lyrics may give food for thought.
I recently listened to some songs by Jovanotti and I was affected primarily by the energy, but also how effectively it manages to say things are not easy in a direct, simple.

The songs that I want to comment, extracting a few fragments, are not
bores me (you can listen here and you can read here the full text ), which belongs to the collection Lorenzo 1992, and I think positive (you can listen here and you can read here the full text ), which belongs to album Lorenzo 1994.
The first is a song about the weather, on how to live it. The second is a song about living by believing in something.

me say at once, to clear the field of equivocation, that I do not intend to give a complete analysis or comprehensive interpretation of these two songs. I'll just extract a few sentences, tracing a path through the texts, and make a few comments.

Route 1 (from It bores me )
time, however things go he goes

the only thing that is given us to do is have the time to organize

not bores me not
I get tired

precious time

not take the bait this time of great dancing that makes you change a model that will go forward more and more life is not beautiful
escape from the group and think with your head and will always be together
a party if you can survive away from the herd there will never be bored tired

I do not break when you are well

time he goes off like a flash when you're bored for a moment seems eternal heaven can become hell


Route 2 (from positive I think) I think positively


am alive because nothing and nobody in the world can stop this wave that goes, this wave that comes and goes I think

positive but that does not mean I do not see
I think positive because I think

I believe that only between good and evil is stronger than good.

watch inside things is asking for an unknown just a way to come out and see the stars


Reflections

Time passes inexorably but our perception of its speed changes depending on how we are: if we're good seems faster, if we are evil seems slower.
One might ask: why? Perhaps we would do well because if we go more slowly, and then we would have more than our desire seems too fast. If we're wrong we would pass it quickly, quickly to overcome evil, and then compared to this need for speed its passing seems too slow.

The evils to be avoided, Jovanotti, which tells us, are boredom, weariness, the "break the boxes."
What is boredom? Not knowing what to do, not having a project. Fatigue is talking about is not physical fatigue, but being tired of life, the situation we are in, the not being able to sustain the effort. The "break" is not to find interest in things that surround us, not having patience in dealing with others.

Time is precious and we must organize it.
Time is really the only thing we have: it is our life, the being of all things.

is not the time for us to change and that makes us tired.
Time is only the possibility of continuous change, but in what direction change is for us to determine this: we must direct its change in thinking for themselves.

life itself is optimistic: it is a big wave that goes on and on.
But optimism does not mean not seeing things, humanity, are also very evil is to believe that good is stronger than evil, that life survives death, that being is stronger than anything , that life is stronger than the constructive powers destructive powers.
There are still many resources to discover in reality, many potential benefits that we can know and achieve.

Half Head Highlights On Brown Hair

The sense of the question "What exists?". Achille Varzi reading ...




I think the fundamental ontological question can be reformulated as follows: "In which of the things that you can name, are the entities in the world and what other things exist beyond those that are included in the our language? " Using the terminology of
Achille C. Varzi, in some cases is to "eliminate the volume of work" (when the philosophy is suffering from "hallucinations"), others to "introduce hidden entities" (when you suffer from "myopia") (AC Varzi, The world in focus . stories of hallucinations and philosophical myopia , Laterza, 2010).
But then, if so, why continue to answer the question "What exists?", "There is more." (Quine's answer, which makes its Varzi)? The same
Varzi said that there are differences in height, the average household, the odds, bad luck, the Platonic ideas, meanings, numbers ... (P. 43). So in reality for him there are many things, but rejects the theory of nonexistent objects (line-Berto Meinong).
On the other hand said "there is everything" seems equivalent to reject a fundamental aspect of the ontological question. If we interpret it as "There is all that exists is an empty tautology, if we interpret as" there is anything we are talking about " is a thesis that neither Quine nor Varzi have never claimed.
Perhaps out of this situation, we must recognize that the meaning of the verb to be is not unique, and therefore we are things we are talking about but not exist in the world.