Temporary but Unrepentant Umbilical to Furthur Thought-Insanity, Part I
I am interested in continuing the blog, but for the time being will transfer over to using it as a kind of thought-diary, rather than whatever it is I’ve been using it for recently, (and some of the thoughts I will be committing to word on the blog will be about what I’ve been trying to do.)
I hate to admit it—and I’ve been fighting against admitting it for a long time—but I am interested in the problem of sense and chaos. I thought I was interested in the problem of embodying chaos without dying early, and perhaps I was, but as I now no longer need to worry about dying early, as having reached an age where whenever I do die it can’t be considered early; but equally true, I can’t be said to be much concerned with the question of “living the good life” as that also, has with the passage of time been transformed into a moot.
I have troubles—it’s a temptation for me—to treat writing “philosophy” as a problem of performance, of a problem of achieving a level of quality in performance. The problem—of philosophy—the sum total of all “philosophy”--- would then be to achieve the level of performance which would admit me (or my “thought” ha ha ha) into an already-established in-group of “philosophers” (though most don’t call themselves philosophers, maybe even refuse the title “academic”, but want some title, and surely entitlement, and professor is suitably grand,) what amounts to Kabuki theater, with entire assemblage, of actor, director, stage crew, and audience belonging to a mutual admiration society. If I had any academic background at all, surely I would long ago have succumbed, been submerged. If I had the chops, would have been welcomed, been made “happy.” (The Good Life understood as achieving membership in one or another of life’s selective clubs.)
I have no such background (nor such chops) so there’s been no sliding into that particular pool of shit. To that extent of sense (or chaos) I am happy for my ignorance(but it is not a great extent, as it is uncomfortable), blissful in it, for if ever there were a process for a deactivation of philosophical ethos, that’s it.
I hate to admit it—and I’ve been fighting against admitting it for a long time—but I am interested in the problem of sense and chaos. I thought I was interested in the problem of embodying chaos without dying early, and perhaps I was, but as I now no longer need to worry about dying early, as having reached an age where whenever I do die it can’t be considered early; but equally true, I can’t be said to be much concerned with the question of “living the good life” as that also, has with the passage of time been transformed into a moot.
I have troubles—it’s a temptation for me—to treat writing “philosophy” as a problem of performance, of a problem of achieving a level of quality in performance. The problem—of philosophy—the sum total of all “philosophy”--- would then be to achieve the level of performance which would admit me (or my “thought” ha ha ha) into an already-established in-group of “philosophers” (though most don’t call themselves philosophers, maybe even refuse the title “academic”, but want some title, and surely entitlement, and professor is suitably grand,) what amounts to Kabuki theater, with entire assemblage, of actor, director, stage crew, and audience belonging to a mutual admiration society. If I had any academic background at all, surely I would long ago have succumbed, been submerged. If I had the chops, would have been welcomed, been made “happy.” (The Good Life understood as achieving membership in one or another of life’s selective clubs.)
I have no such background (nor such chops) so there’s been no sliding into that particular pool of shit. To that extent of sense (or chaos) I am happy for my ignorance(but it is not a great extent, as it is uncomfortable), blissful in it, for if ever there were a process for a deactivation of philosophical ethos, that’s it.
posted by Yusef Asabiyah at 11:39 AM
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