I have all kinds of music on my phone, but besides Alanis Morissette, I have only all the albums of Eminem on it. I don’t exactly know why I like his music; it is not his lyrics; he often goes so fast that it is hard to follow for me, it is probably his energy. I like watching YouTube videos where they react to and explain his music, which gives me another appreciation and understanding of why he is praised so highly. I think he has a lot of talent, and he found a lucrative outlet for that; but he is still the tortured artist he’s always been, but he also stayed true to himself and his art.
Month: August 2022
Day 2351, movement from the day.Day's pictures, Poetry
The green door on the first floor I forget its color inside sitting in front of the window staring outside eyes closed watching the lights white inside moving on the rhythm from the outside
Day 2350, thoughts.Day's pictures, Poetry
My thoughts are making towers of Babel without me
Day 2349, new.Day's pictures
I have made a new website where I collected some of the pictures I liked the most from my picture-a-day project. You can go to the site by clicking the link “pictures” under the Nochrisis logo and then “best of days.” Or follow this link: Nochrisisphotos.com
I am now on day 2349, but sometimes I post more pictures in one day, so there are around 3300 photos to be found in the posts on this blog. I don’t always take pictures daily, but I edit the pictures on the day I post them. I have so my routines while editing pictures, but I have to say that it is still a creative process for me. Most of the time, I set some kind of time limit, not only to save some time, but the result of your creativity often benefits from limiting yourself in time, and other boundaries, is my experience. Writing the little poem-like texts with each picture has also never been a problem. Each picture has given me some kind of inspiration, and most of the time, a sentence will pop up in my head, and that’s the one I write down. It happens very seldom that I have to erase that first sentence because I like the challenge of sticking with it. I often take out words once I think I am finished; this leaves the poems short and to the point and not really poetic in the traditional sense, I think, but who am I to judge? Writing these little poems or texts is just fun to do, and it makes me smile each time I think I am so clever…
Day 2348, expecting.Day's pictures, Poetry
We go through life opening doors and even though we know its mood we still go in expecting maybe not its opposite but something else
Day 2347, opening doors.Day's pictures, Philosophy
Thoughts on the prejudices of morality
19 Morality makes stupid. – Custom represents the experiences of men of earlier times as to what they supposed useful and harmful – but the sense for custom (morality) applies, not to these experiences as such, but to the age, the sanctity, the indiscussability of the custom. And so this feeling is a hindrance to the acquisition of new experiences and the correction of customs: that is to say, morality is a hindrance to the creation of new and better customs: it makes stupid.
35 Feelings and their origination in judgments. – ‘Trust your feelings!’ – But feelings are nothing final or original; behind feelings there stand judgments and evaluations which we inherit in the form of feelings (inclinations, aversions). The inspiration born of a feeling is the grandchild of a judgment – and often of a false judgment! – and in any event not a child of your own! To trust one’s feelings – means to give more obedience to one’s grandfather and grandmother and their grandparents than to the gods which are in us: our reason and our experience.
55 ‘Ways’. – The supposed ‘shorter ways’ have always put mankind into great danger; at the glad tidings that such a shorter way has been found, they always desert their way – and lose their way.
Day 2346, imaginary world.Day's pictures, Philosophy, Poetry
You wonder out there and I can only see you a being nothing
For the last few weeks, I have been reading books about child development and how we grow up and become the adults we are. I don’t do this without reason; I still wonder why I have such an interest in who and what we are. I know that most people have questions and, on occasion, also pursue these, but for me, it’s something I do every day. I have not done this my whole life; before philosophy, I was curious about many things, and I pried open all the toys I got to see what was inside. Later this curiosity made me look inside myself because I broke down and wanted to know why. I was born with a more than average curiosity, you might say.
Personal tragedies can often be a reason for some soul searching, but most people I know moved on once life was on the rails again and demanded their attention again. I’ve never stopped, and I think it’s because I was always curious and maybe slightly obsessive. But if it is just part of me to be this interested in philosophy and the search for what’s inside, why would I then write a book about what I learned if like-minded people are the only ones that read it?
We humans are, in essence, self-centered beings. We look at the world from a specific standpoint, uniquely ours, because of our experiences and a mostly unconscious feeling that other people are not really like us*, not really there, you could say. We mostly assume that other people are real because they do like we do, but all our experiences and hidden thoughts are only ours and are an impregnable wall between us and the other. This is the reason, I think, why it is so hard for me to imagine why other people are not as enthusiastic about philosophy as I am. I can’t penetrate their mind (Are they even real?) and can only project my experiences onto them.
I know that this is one way of looking at this problem; the fact is that most people are not interested in philosophy and asking the hard questions to one’s self. So besides my self-interest, what is the reason for me to write about my thoughts? I believe that it is important, and if more people would think twice about why they have certain opinions, the world would be a better place. I also don’t have the Illusion that what I have to say is something special or unique, I just say it slightly different than others have done it a thousand times before. I just wonder if it is possible to change people from not so curious about why we are what we are to enthusiastic questioners about why they believe and do the things they do.
Day 2345, faded.Day's pictures, Poetry
You faded away into the background but I still see you sharp
Day 2343, two way’s.Day's pictures, Poetry
There is a lot of negative energy when I get close to you or you to me and that is strange because I also see the positive energy streaming in you maybe it's my stands or memory of you that makes me avoid touching both of your directions at the same time
Day 2343, the future.Day's pictures, Haiku, Poetry
I see a light hue Looking into the distance mimicking green grass
Day 2342, gray.Day's pictures, Poetry
The streets are gray and not colorful like my house. I wonder why the streets are gray and not colorful. I almost never see my house for a long time from the outside, but the streets I do.
Day 2341, strange.Daily picture, Poetry
A green door on number four with three locks three door bells four nameplates and one mailbox
Day 2340, Yes.Day's pictures, Poetry
Today you look quiet for the last time alone your house still filled with visitors the memory of this air already fleeing tomorrow you will look to the left say yes and the visitors will be gone
Day 2339, other road.Daily picture, Poetry
The dark road had a warning sign standing on the right side that I couldn't see.
Fog was still there to disturb the light of the sun.
The road I took was good but not like the one I drive on now and feel.
Crushed rocks make you slow down and realize the old roads pleasant feel.
I open my mind and roll down the window.
The fog smells clear further down the road where the darkness is still.
I see a subtle bend in the distance.
Day 2338, time.Day's pictures, Poetry
The clicking of the clock it is our only reminder that we divided time in tiny steps tiktoktiktoktiktoktiktoktiktok is it a coincident that the invention of this rhythm to our end coincided with our search for happiness on this earth
Day 2337, looking for.Day's pictures, Poetry
I don't know what I look for in art but I always find it