Feathers.

All photos taken by me.

catch me at: kara_cohen@berkeley.edu
October 12

Incase you need something to put you to sleep...

People think that philosophy is aimlessly wondering the purpose of life and reading Plato. HA…here is a sample of my day’s work.

“Smith aims to show in graph 5.3 that when including desires, it is not possible to have an isomorphism between psychological states and logical transitions. This is because logical transitions cannot be made between beliefs and desires. Beliefs and desires are modally distinct and cannot form each other. If this is true then beliefs and desires cannot logically entail each other either. Therefore, according to the Humean view, desires cannot be rational. On the left Smith presents the theoretical belief (7) that may lead to the practical desire (8) to demonstrate the transition among psychological states. On the right, Smith shows the corresponding logical relations between (7) and (8). (7) is a belief and therefore can be presented as a proposition and reason. But because (8) is in the practical realm and is a desire, it cannot be logically entailed from (7). Smith puts (8) as only a series of questions marks showing that is it unknown under the Humean view what (7) would logically entail, because there are no other propositions.”

This shit is so dry, you need a glass of water after reading it.

October 5

When it is 3am and you are frustrated about a small philosophy paper for your prestigious university, hearing five gun shots that sound way too close to home ( literally) puts things in perspective pretty quickly.

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I have chosen the one field of study that is based completely on leaving one utterly frustrated, confused and constantly leaving one with a feeling of hopelessness..

And then I wonder why I choose  males that are utterly frustrating, confusing and constantly leaving me with a feeling of hopelessness.

I am an all around masochist. awesome.

September 8

Last year:

Ignore the internet, write your paper.

This yeah:

Ignore the gunshots, write your paper.

September 3
33rd and West. Ghost town home. Damn, things are changing at full speed and I think I am loving it. No sleep until world domination!

33rd and West.

Ghost town home.

Damn, things are changing at full speed and I think I am loving it. No sleep until world domination!

August 21
I ruturned from my two and a half month journey, and pulled my small white computer out of the small white drawer that I had  stashed it in. I was surprised to notice upon opening it that for all of this time the computer had been on; simply asleep. As the screen lit up I noticed this picture, the last thing I looked at before I drove to the airport. It is simply a fashion photo of a fairly well known male model. This isn’t shocking, in itself. But what is, is that I met a boy in Paris named Josh. I approached him and his friend in a bar called Pop In on rue Amelot because I overheard them speaking in English. I was so exausted from trying to speak French and utterly failing that the sound of English pulled me towards them with force. Gretchen and I spent the evening with the two of them. The four of us found ourselves wandering through the cobbled streets of  the Bastille trying to find a rock bar and went to Mcdonalds in the middle of the night because nothing was open. It was a perfect lost Paris night. We kept running into him at bars, and on the street. I almost expected to see him if I went some place in the neighborhood. It seemed natural. This picture, the picture that had been sitting in my computer the whole summer, is a picture of Josh. Josh the British model who was in Paris for fashion week. Whom we wandered through Paris with. I didn’t meet many people in Paris, but I met the person in the last picture I looked at before I left. We had no idea that this stanger was in my home all along. This coincidence has been haunting me for the last two days.

I ruturned from my two and a half month journey, and pulled my small white computer out of the small white drawer that I had  stashed it in. I was surprised to notice upon opening it that for all of this time the computer had been on; simply asleep. As the screen lit up I noticed this picture, the last thing I looked at before I drove to the airport. It is simply a fashion photo of a fairly well known male model.

This isn’t shocking, in itself. But what is, is that I met a boy in Paris named Josh. I approached him and his friend in a bar called Pop In on rue Amelot because I overheard them speaking in English. I was so exausted from trying to speak French and utterly failing that the sound of English pulled me towards them with force. Gretchen and I spent the evening with the two of them. The four of us found ourselves wandering through the cobbled streets of  the Bastille trying to find a rock bar and went to Mcdonalds in the middle of the night because nothing was open. It was a perfect lost Paris night. We kept running into him at bars, and on the street. I almost expected to see him if I went some place in the neighborhood. It seemed natural.

This picture, the picture that had been sitting in my computer the whole summer, is a picture of Josh. Josh the British model who was in Paris for fashion week. Whom we wandered through Paris with.

I didn’t meet many people in Paris, but I met the person in the last picture I looked at before I left. We had no idea that this stanger was in my home all along. This coincidence has been haunting me for the last two days.

July 29

I believed I would never love another more than you, that I would be faithful. But I didn’t understand what else was out there. I was young and niave. I’m so sorry San Francisco, but I am head over heels for Berlin; exotic, tortured, tattoed, Berlin.

July 22

Vondel Park, Amsterdam.

Rule number eight, there were real rabbits. Erin will never believe us. Rule number 27, no outsiders ( animals ok). Rule number three, no falling. Climbing ok.

No swimming, don’t get seperated, all dutch signs mean no.

It gets easier everytime. Goodluck and NEXT!

July 12

la vie en rose

Yesterday, standing in front of paintings at the Musee D’Orsay I held back tears. It was the most incredible experience to see for the first time these artworks that meant so much to me just simply in the context of my readings and heard lectures. Erin and I shared conversation and coffee at a lovely sidewalk bistro in the marais, the jewish quarter of paris. Later in the evening Gretchen joined us for chevre salad, a bottle of rose and an apple wine on the canal. we trotted down rue Amelot to Zero Zero for ginger shots and crowded half dancing and then skipped over to Pop In for basement boogies and beer. The blur set in and my french spilled out a bit better that way. Erin and I somehow seeped into a group of boys from virginia on a quest to find a certain all nightbar, but insteas we ended up piling into the flat listening to the kinks and the violent femmes and enjoying an evening purely in the moment in a way you can only do when you are far from home.

Today with charming headaches Erin and I pulled ourselves from sleep  into the flea market at point de Clignencourt, which is a village in it’s own. You can spend hours upon hours wandering through alleys of rusting birdcages, rare books, furniture, and lacey dresses; admiring pocket watches reading century old letters, sifting through cartes de visites, buttons, boxes of candy and not see half of what there is. I bought an educational lithograph print demonstrating species of mushrooms from the end of the 19th century and a few photos and postcards. Erin bought a Parisian news journal from 1894 with stunning illistrations.

There was a moment this weekend that wasn’t perfect. It was frightening and slightly disturbing, but I will leave it for other writings. Tomorrow I will spend picnicing with a new friend, so I will not be so alone now that my old ones have left Paris.

I can see how people could easily become stuck in this dreamland. But what I can’t handle about Paris is how it can be so utterly unreal. It denies life in all its romance. Paris is a drug like haze pulling you into a blanket of comfort, contentment and wonder while the world beats on just beyond what is left of your consciousness. it slows you down.

July 9
Name the Belle and Sebastian song.

Name the Belle and Sebastian song.