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The thesis has, I hope temporarily, ground to a halt.
Off to Edinburgh on Tuesday followed by Durham. I shall be on the look-out for gentlemans' outfitters. I've decided too to have my 'Nietzsche phase' whilst away. I plan to start with an article by my former supervisor followed by The Birth of Tragedy, followed by Thus Spoke Zarathustra. I shall stop short of the advice of this man to read them in the bath.
I have been reading about Heidegger's hut in a book called Heidegger's Hut. Interesting to read about the supposed relationship between H's mountain shack and his philosophy. Is inspiring me in some inarticulable way. The conference paper on Tillich is going nowhere fast but I don't care. And I've had an article on existentialist aesthetics accepted. Woot!I plan to have my long-overdue 'Nietzsche phase' in Durham over Easter. In the words of Ian Curtis, [Where] "will it end?"
[Edit: Warning! This is a boring and stupid post. What was I thinking?]
This is not a test. Ceci n'est pas une pipe. For future reference: if only Magritte had had access to the (strike) (/strike) code.
Also links:
One needs to write:
(a href="http://www.my-lovely-website.com/me/how-amazing-i-am")text as which link appears(/a)
I often wonder why I 'blog' and today is no exception. I can see from my little map (bottom right of the screen) that I have had 'hits' from all over the world. But are such people actively seeking out my mundanities or were they simply looking for their nearest coffee bean supplier in the anticipation of a dark, rich cup of monsoon malabar? Did they then see an apparently relevant Google result only to find themselves perusing these inane ramblings before moving on, dissapointed, disgusted and embittered?
Assuming, on the other hand, that I do have willing readers, it is difficult to know what to write about. I am of the belief that one should write in order to be read so that what one writes is partly determined by what one's readers want to read.
Gentle readers: what shall I write? The things that fill my head are of too bizarre or arcane a character to be of general interest, I fear:
I feel like a stroke victim whose brain's 'God spot' is the seat of the clot. And if that were not enough, these words from Nick Cave have been haunting me ever since I heard the suggestion that with the human capacity for great intelligence goes the tendency towards self-destruction:
Don't it make you feel so sad, don't the blood rush to your feet /
To think that everything you do today, tomorrow is obsolete? /
Technology and women and little children too /
Don't it make you feel blue? Don't it make you feel blue?
It's much better with music so, if you don't already know it, check out the album Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!! As the t-shirt has it, humanity is underrated; and a true saying. But for very different reasons, it is overrated. There's plenty of humanism, which is a good thing, but there's also plenty of hubris. If only we could find the via media...On a completely unrelated subject, I have discovered the meaning of 'cony'. I first came across the word at Ps. 104: 18, which apparently refers to a kind of hyrax (I know, sweet, aren't they?). I gather that in Old English and in some current English dialects it refers to a (sometimes young) rabbit. But cony is also, more rarely, a verb meaning 'to act the rabbit'. The OED quotes Florio in 1611 defining it thus:
Coniglieggiare, to cunnie, to play the cunnie, to bee fearefull and lurke in holes.
I look forward to hearing about what you would like to read here, gentle reader, and whether this post 'hits the spot'. Do leave a some 'remarks' or feel free to e-mail me. I am among you as one who serves.
A quotation I came across today which I must share with you all:
"Furthermore, if one remembers the history of the word atheism, and how it has been applied even to Spinoza, the most positive of philosophers, we must admit that all thinking which displaces, or otherwise defines, the sacred has been called atheistic, and that philosophy which does not place it here or there, like a thing, but at the joining of things and words, will always be exposed to this reproach without ever being touched by it."
Marice Merleau-Ponty, In Praise of Philosophy, 46.
I could not have put it better, so I won't try.
Found an interesting clip on youtube. Not sure about the images, but the audio is very interesting indeed.
I waded through the slush that the snow had become this morning to get my hair cut and did some laundry when I got home. I found myself thinking about Van Gogh and his coffee addiction, then I had some coffee. Then I had lunch, and some coffee, and am about to carry on with Gabriel Marcel's autobiography, perhaps over another cup of coffee. He does not, so far, appear to have been convinced by the Roman Catholicism to which he converted. He claimed to be painfully aware of the fact that applying his critical acumen to biblical texts, for instance, would destroy his faith - so he didn't. He rested assured in the knowledge that intelligent friends of his had examined the basis of their religious faith and it was still intact for them.
A deeply fascinating thinker, sadly neglected, whose life and work were of a piece. I toyed with the idea of putting on one of his plays...
P.S. One thing I forgot to mention: I saw a squirrel being bludgeoned to death yesterday. I assume it was injured and not epileptic. I hope so. Imagine being bludgeoned to death in the throes of something from which you would otherwise have recovered. Not a pretty thought for a Thursday afternoon. I think I'll put the coffee on to cheer myself up.
