#dromomania

[gianlucacrugnola]

Cemento Atlantico - Dromomania

Dromomania è il nuovo album di Cemento Atlantico, in uscita il 21 giugno 2024 per Bronson Recordings; ascolta i singoli Garawek Khaos, El Que Puede Hablar e Danza Negra. Focus track: The Land Of Lions Il desiderio irrefrenabile di viaggiare senza tregua, a tutti noto come “Wanderlust”, in un contesto clinico assume il termine di “Dromomania”. Azioni e abitudini contemporanee subiscono spesso una…

[baniigattsuu]

ᏕσᏟᎥεᎿყ ᏟσℓℓαρᏕᎥɳɠ Ꮥℓσωℓყ。αɓαɳᏧσɳεᏧ ᏟᎥᎿᎥεᏕ ƒυℓℓ σƒ ωᎥℓᏧℓᎥƒε。ƒεεℓᎥɳɠᏕ σƒ ᏧՐεαᏧ、ɱᏋคɳᎥɳɠℓεᏕᏕɳεᏕᏕ αɳᏧ ɦαᎿ૨εᏧ ƒσᏒ ᎿᏂᎥᏕ ωσՐℓᏧ αᏕ ᎥᎿ ᎥᏕ ᏒᎥɠɦᎿ ɳσω。Ꮏɦε ᏧεᏕᎥᏒε Ꮏσ αɓαɳᏧσɳ ᎿɦᎥᏕ ωαყ σƒ ℓᎥѵᎥɳɠ、ωɦεᎿɦεᏒ ᎥԲ ωαᏕ ѵσᏓυɳᎿαᏒყ σᏒ ɳσᎿ、Ꭵɳ ƒαѵσυᏒ σƒ ℓεᎿᎿᎥɳɠ Ꮏɦε υᏒɓαɳ εɳѵᎥᏒσɳɱεɳᎿ ᏧεᏟαყ、ℓεαѵᎥɳɠ ƒσᏒεᏕᎿᏕ Ꭵɳ ᎥᎿᏕ ρℓαᏟε。

[benjawns]

https://fr.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dromomanie

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dromomania

[normally0]

From Berlin's Avant-Garde to London's Financial Heritage: The Evolution of Cultural and Technological Integration

The Museum für Zukunft, an avant-garde collective with roots in Berlin, began by exploring interdisciplinary connections among art, science, media, and everyday life. This exploration led to the transformation of spaces, notably in Cologne, where the members encountered walls adorned with scratch-off letters that intriguingly migrated from the walls to their bodies. This phenomenon was part of the brown room, a re-enactment of a scene from Rainer Werner Fassbinder's film "The Third Generation," within Dominique Gonzales-Forster's installation. The resulting portraits, captured in a multiple of nine photos, were presented in a black cardboard box with titles in scratch-off letters, contributing to the exhibition at allgirls.

Botschaft e.V., founded in 1990, operated out of various empty buildings in Berlin-Mitte. Initially, they squatted the WMF building, then moved to Kronenstraße 3, where they opened the "Friseur" club in a former hairdressing salon. The collective included artists, musicians, theorists, filmmakers, and computer experts such as Bettina Ellerkamp, Natascha Sadr Haghighian, Jörg Heitmann, Christoph Keller, and others. Botschaft's projects ranged from exhibitions and lectures to music performances and discussions, always at the intersection of art, science, media, and everyday life. One of Botschaft's notable early events was "Dromomania" in November 1990, coinciding with German reunification. This event sought to integrate art with political interest and local publicity, operating from the squatted WMF building. The collective eschewed individual authorship in favour of group dynamics, continually evolving their practices.

The "Richtig 92" event series explored the understanding of reality and documentation, highlighting the intersection of traditional media, art, and philosophy. Projects like "Museum für Geschichte" and "Fishing for Documents" attracted diverse audiences and linked thematic exhibitions, underscoring Botschaft's focus on interdisciplinary cooperation.

Botschaft's approach often blurred the lines between cultural work and social engagement. They rejected the notion of becoming a formal institution, focusing instead on content-driven activities. The "Friseur" bar and WMF club exemplified their integration into Berlin's cultural landscape, offering spaces for film screenings, video projections, music performances, and political lectures. As Botschaft expanded its reach, it influenced peripheral groups within European art centres, reinforcing its avant-garde status. Their projects, such as "Beirut/NY/Berlin" and "Museum for Future," highlighted the ongoing, process-oriented nature of their work. This emphasis on continuity and practical engagement allowed Botschaft to navigate the changing cultural and political landscape of post-reunification Berlin.

Drawing inspiration from Botschaft's interdisciplinary and evolving practices, the proposed London Stocks and Shares Museum at 6 Coleman Street will similarly explore the intersections of history, finance, and technology. The museum will honour Brian Winterflood, a pioneer in integrating computers into stock trading. Just as Botschaft's projects delved into cultural and political themes, the London museum will chronicle the history of the stock exchange, from its origins in London's coffee houses to its modern-day operations. The museum will employ interactive exhibits and digital installations to convey the complexities of financial markets, much like Botschaft used diverse media to communicate their interdisciplinary explorations.

This new museum aims to be a dynamic space for learning and reflection, bridging past and present through innovative presentations. The influence of Berlin's cultural movements and Fassbinder's cinematic legacy will inform the museum's design and narrative, creating a space that not only educates but also engages visitors in a dialogue about the evolution of finance and its impact on society.

[i-n3ver-wanted-to-feel]

dromomania

[tatteredxsails]

Glimpse of the past...

[I wrote this before S2 premiered, to explore some aspects of my Stede muse -- specifically why he dissociated hard enough to show up back in Barbados half dressed and with no shoes on.

Trigger warning: This is tagged with TW SA and TW CSA because it mentions a SA that happened when Stede was 15. It does not go into detail about the actual event. The SA is implied. This is the fallout and reaction to it and the later PTSD associated. The implied SA is perpetrated by another minor. Please keep this in mind if you choose to read this.]

There was a reason Stede had forgotten they were twins. Chauncey had always been the more successful of the Badminton boys. He'd engaged himself more seriously in his studies and had generally stayed away from the playground rivalries that Nigel engaged in.

Stede had known things would be bad, when he saw Chauncey. Nigel could summon him with a few words and he would come with the conviction that his twin was right and the entire world was wrong. Nigel and his little band of miscreants had dragged Stede into the stables and had forced him to 'kiss' a horse. They'd inflicted other childish humiliations on Stede that he struggled to define even in his later years. But it was Chauncey, ever the smarter and more vicious of the two when it came down to it, that had taken it further.

He'd lied to Ed when he had said the man was no longer alive. Even in that lie, he'd forgotten that they were identical twins. He'd just… well. It had been easier to lie, and to attribute his childhood angst to Nigel. Chauncey had directly caused Stede's very first mental breakdown, following something like a dissociative spell that the family doctor had called 'dromomania'.

At fifteen years old, Stede had walked from the grounds of his boarding school back to the family estate. It was a distance that was uncomfortably navigated in a carriage, one that felt insurmountable whenever Stede contemplated the act while conscious and aware of his person. But he'd done it. He remembered looking down at the smart shining leather of his shoes, and then stumbling through the front door of his home. His shoes were ruined. Pulling away from the soles…

Stede wasn't wearing shoes but he didn't really feel the sharp stones and sticks hidden beneath the decaying leaves on the ground. He held the edge of his shirt, specks of blood soaked into the fabric hidden away there, and walked away from the body. They'd all think he'd done it. He'd ruined something else, killed someone else. It didn't matter that he hadn't been holding the gun. He had to… he had to go. He had to go home. His awareness drifted in and out. One moment he was watching a snake slide through the moonlight across the little path that wound through the trees and the next he was standing next to his bunk. Ed wasn't there. Ed was… Ed was somewhere else. He had to go home. He put on pants but there were no stockings and shiny shoes. He put on pants and haphazardly tucked his shirt in. He had to look somewhat presentable if he was going to… going to go home. His step father would… would…

He didn't remember walking away from the academy, still barefoot. He didn't remember how he found a ship headed for Barbados, much less how he actually managed to get aboard it. Once he'd disembarked the ship, he stood on the docks for a long time because some part of his mind had determined that he was supposed to wait there. He'd stayed until the dark edges of his memory had clouded over again and then he had started walking.

Consciousness came for him again when he opened the front door of his family home. There weren't going to be any sharp reprimands from his step-father. This was his home. It had, technically, been his since he was child. His real father had left everything to him, and after him… the church. A caveat of his will that had likely kept Stede alive through childhood, even though he wasn't aware of that fact and would never actually contemplate it.

He was alive. He looked down at his bloodied feet as he closed the door behind himself. He could hear Mary talking. Mary. Had everything just been some kind of twisted dream? Mary was talking to someone, and he was home. He followed the sound of her voice, “Darling…”

Stede didn't regain his awareness of himself until he was sitting in a hot bath that evening. He looked around the comforts and luxuries of the bathroom. It wasn't the much smaller bath aboard The Revenge. It was still decorated to his mother's tastes. He focused on the edge of the tub and felt his chest and throat get tight with tears. He was supposed to be sailing away to a new life with Edward. He wasn't supposed to be sitting in a bathtub miles away, holding back the self-pitying tears that were threatening to strangle him. Some part of him was relieved, and that relief was choking him more surely than anything else.

Chauncey had been right. He'd defiled Ed. He had taken him from being Blackbeard to being just another privateer-in-training at the Academy for Wayward Seamen. Stede had looked down at him and he'd seen a stranger staring back. Regulations had dressed Edward in the same drab uniform as everyone else around them. They'd made him shave off his beard. They'd taken him and put him into a box of rules and routines and Edward had just accepted it because of Stede. Because Stede made him happy. Wouldn't he be happier, without Stede? Wouldn't it be better, if he escaped on his own, back to the world that he had known before Stede had come along and rotted it all out from under him? Edward was still beautiful. He'd always be beautiful. And Stede defiled beautiful things.

It didn't stop there. He'd been confronted with the complete severance from his old life when he'd been told that he was “dead”. It had shaken him, as much as he'd been prepared for his inevitable death throughout his life. He'd even faced the very real truth of the matter that he was likely to die while following his dreams of being a pirate. That would be better than dying at home in his bed… But he hadn't been prepared for all of the uncertainty and fear that being declared “dead” had brought forward in him. Dead men could only return to their old lives in the form of rotten ghosts. If he was dead, then there was no safety net. There was no going back.

There was no going back from the plan that Edward had made for them, either. They'd be giving it all up, running off together with new names and identities to be… together. He made Edward happy, and Edward made him happy. It should have been something that he held to his heart like a blessing. It should have been. But it had sent a cold shiver of fear through him. Edward had given up everything for that happiness, for loving him. What if he eventually saw Stede for what he was? What if he eventually realized that Stede was nothing more than a pathetic little rich boy? There wasn't much to him at all. Happiness could be so damn fickle.

Edward would be happier without him.

Ed was so vibrantly alive. Stede… Stede was dead, long before he'd heard that declaration. He'd been born with the expectation of a premature death. He'd grown up under that expectation, and had held onto it for himself when he had taken to sea. He wasn't entirely sure if he had ever been alive. He'd felt alive, with Edward…

But the dead dragged the living down. It was inevitable. Eventually, Edward would smell the rot. He'd wake up and see the decay around himself and realize that he'd been tricked. That he wasn't happy. Not really.

Stede pulled his knees up to his chest and cried until the water got cold. He reached for the comfort of Edward's voice in his own mind, but found himself dragged down by it. Dragged down by the death of that time in his life. He couldn't go back.

He'd cried again, when he'd found himself having dinner alone… talking to a petrified orange as if it were Edward himself. He couldn't go back. And he could never have gone back to this place, either. Not really. He didn't belong, didn't fit. Not that he ever had. But now the shape of his life was gone, darned like an unwelcome hole in a favorite sock. Mary had a life. Alma hated him. Louis didn't remember him (though, really, come on. He hadn't been gone that long).

After the confirmation that Mary was with Doug, Stede took his lantern and went out to the stables. It was a short walk from the carriage house the two were busy fucking each other in. The familiar musk of horses and the sweet scent of hay was something he had missed while out at sea. By all rights, he should have had an aversion to horses but that had never stuck. Long before the incident with the horse, he had taken comfort in them and had hidden away in the stables when he couldn't seem to breathe for crying. He walked down the row of stalls and looked in at the animals, seeking out Arthur. There was nothing particularly special about Arthur. He wasn't one of the fine bred animals that galloped across the pastures so fast that they seemed to be flying. He couldn't be fucked to even pick up a canter, most days. He was gentle and sweet, a horse Stede had bought with the children in mind. Then he'd ended up riding him more often than not, even though he was decent in the saddle. It had been nice to take things slow and spend time with the gelding.

He hung up his lantern and stepped into Arthur's stall. The horse, at least, seemed to have remembered him.

“I think I've done something very stupid, Arthur,” Stede whispered to the horse, scratching under his jaw. “I think… everyone's better off without me.”

The horse shoved its head roughly against Stede's chest and pulled away, turning his attention to the hay in his feeder. Stede swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat at that. Even the fucking horse had better things to do than listen to him. The only ones who had wanted to listen to him at all were the men down in the pub who were all just living the same pointless and mundane life that he had been.

Edward had wanted to listen to him. He sat down in the stall, not giving two shits about the fine fabric of his pants and waistcoat, and cried harder than he was sure he ever had in his life. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. All of it was so fucking pathetic.

"I want to go home,” he whispered to himself. This place wasn't home. It never really had been. Not like The Revenge and her crew. But even that hadn't really started to feel like home until…

Edward.

[travelunraveluk]

Indulge Your #Dromomania: Jet-set with #TravelUnravel to satisfy your insatiable #wanderlust!

Browse Flights Now- www.travelunravel.com

#DromomaniaDesires #GlobeTrotterLife #JetsetAdventure #RoamingFree #ExploreTheWorld #NomadSoul #WanderlustJourney #TravelObsession

[alleycvm]

So, y'all weren't kidding when you said you have to put yourself out there. Whelp.

[gianlucacrugnola]

Cemento Atlantico - Dromomania

Dromomania è il nuovo album di Cemento Atlantico, in uscita il 21 giugno 2024 per Bronson Recordings; ascolta il singolo apripista Garawek Khaos e il nuovo El Que Puede Hablar Il desiderio irrefrenabile di viaggiare senza tregua, a tutti noto come “Wanderlust”, in un contesto clinico assume il termine di “Dromomania”. Azioni e abitudini contemporanee subiscono spesso una catalogazione…

[mulata-dourada]

Não tem como explicar a emoção de pegar um carro e sair desbravando o mundo para quem ama. Às vezes procuro ir até por um caminho mais longe só pra usufruir do momento estrada. Amo. E vc tb ama viajar e dirigir na estrada ? Comenta aí qual lugar vc já foi e que amou. : : : : : : : : : : : #turismo #viagem #turistandocomadourada #naestrada #viajandodecarro #amoviajar #estradadasdobrasil #brazil #brasil #carrodeblogueira #estradaafora #turistando #dromomania #dourada.oficial #conhecendoobrasildecarro #apaixonadaporestradas #viagem #codomaranhao #codómaranhão #cabeceirasgoiás (em Cabeceiras, Goias, Brazil) https://www.instagram.com/p/BoJzbttnvNO/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=14uulds9guce9

[dromomaniar-blog]

Escalinatas del Park Güell, Barcelona. . . . #parkguell #barcelona #mediterraneo #okupa #resiste #resistencia #ladob #alternative #travelgram #viajes #destinos #cloudy #nubes #dromomania (at Park Güell)

[fromzuwithlove]

Scotland III

October 2017

[seanklingelhoefer]

A Dot Running for the Dust by Helvetia

[anothergirlplanet]

Rain

[thejudahite]

It was called: #Drapetomania & was considered a mental illness that #slaves suffered because they kept RUNNING from captivity. Today the children of #slavemasters classify your children with different disorders & you believe them, even to the point of letting them be drugged up. According to the scripture we suffer from attacks by demon spirits, the effects of sin, as well as the curses laid out in (#Deuteronomy chpt28). As time went on, this racist medical disorder was renamed to: (#Dromomania) which is an uncontrollable or insane impulsion to wander. (at Goldsboro, North Carolina) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8CZfLeHH_S/?igshid=gck3gdyy57aw

[farewell-sanity]

Dick: Last night Barbara and I were playing scrabble and it was a disaster.

Tim: Why scrabble is great

Dick: No, when you are playing with Barbara it's not.

Dick: She puts word like "dromomania" and I put "dog"