filling the husk

when i am utterly uninspired, at a loss as to what to post, or eat, or do next; when i am miserable, or in a funk, or have a nasty crick in my neck, i find solace in turning towards the works of humanity’s great philosophers. time and again i’ve found that the simple act of submerging myself in the torrent of their ideas can invigorate me in a way which not even an altoids stuffed habanero with a listerine chaser can manage. i have of late been in just such a funk. consumed with a nasty “empty-husk” kind of feeling which prevents me from writing anything interesting, or relaxing in my home, or swimming the english channel. as such i’ve decided to dip a toe again into those rushing waters of the awe inspiringly brilliant philosophical mind…

from my philosophy by woody allen (from his 1971 collection getting even.)

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1. critique of pure dread

in formulating any philosophy, the first consideration must always be: what can we know? that is, what can we be sure we know, or sure that we know we knew it, if indeed it is at all knowable. or have we simply forgotten it and are too embarrassed to say anything? descartes hinted at the problem when he wrote, “my mind can never know my body, although it has become quite friendly with my legs.” by “knowable,” incidentally, i do not mean that which can be known by perception of the senses, or that which can be grasped by the mind, but more that which can be said to be known or to posses a knowness or knowability, or at least something you can mention to a friend.

can we actually “know” the universe? my god, it’s hard enough finding your way around chinatown. the point, however, is: is there anything out there? and why? and must they be so noisy? finally, there can be no doubt that the one characteristic of “reality” is that it lacks essence. that is not to say it has no essence, but merely lacks it. (the reality i speak of here is the same as hobbes described, but a little smaller.) therefore the cartesian dictum “i think, therefore i am” might be better expressed “hey, there goes edna with a saxophone!” so, then to know a substance or an idea we must doubt it, and thus, doubting it, come to perceive the qualities it possesses in its final state, which are truly “in the thing itself,” or “of the thing itself,” or something or nothing. if this is clear, we can leave epistemology for the moment.

2. eschatological dialectics as a means of coping with shingles

we can say that the universe consists of a substance, and this substance we will call “atoms,” or else we will call it “monads.” democritus called it atoms. leibnitz called it monads. fortunately, the two men never met, or there would have been a very dull argument. these “particles” were set in motion by some cause or underlying principle, or perhaps something fell someplace. the point is that it’s too late to do anything about it now, except possibly to eat plenty of raw fish. this, of course, does not explain why the soul is immortal. nor does it say anything about an afterlife, or about the feeling my uncle sender has that he is being followed by albanians. the casual relationship between the first principle (i.e., god, or a strong wind) and any teleological concept of being (being) is, according to pascal, “so ludicrous that it’s not even funny (funny).” schopenhauer called this “will,” but his physician diagnosed it as hay fever. in his later years, he became embittered by it, or more likely because of his increasing suspicion that he was not mozart.

3. the cosmos on five dollars a day

what then is “beautiful”? the merging of harmony with the just, or the merging of harmony with something that sounds like “the just”? possibly harmony should have been merged with “the crust” and this is what’s been giving us our trouble. truth, to be sure, is beauty - or “the necessary.” that is, what is good or possessing the qualities of “the good” results in “truth.” if it doesn’t, you can bet the thing is not beautiful, although it may still be waterproof. i am beginning to think i was right in the first place and that everything should be merged with the crust. oh, well.

two parables

a man approaches a palace. its only entrance is guarded by some fierce huns who will only let men named julius enter. the man tries to bribe the guards by offering them a years supply of choice chicken parts. they neither scorn the offer nor accept it, but merely rake his nose and twist it till it looks like a molly screw. the man says it is imperative that he enter the palace because he is bringing the emperor a change of underwear. when the guards still refuse, the man begins to charleston. they seem to enjoy his dancing but soon become morose over the treatment of the navajos by the federal government. out of breath, the man collapses. he dies, never having seen the emperor and owing the steinway people sixty dollars on the piano he rented from them in august.

i am given a message to deliver to a general. i ride and ride, but the general’s headquarters seem to get further and further away, finally, a giant black panther leaps upon me and devours my mind and heart. this puts a terrific crimp in my evening. no matter how hard i try, i cannot catch the general, whom i see running in the distance in his shorts and whispering the word “nutmeg” to his enemies.

aphorisms

it is impossible to experience one’s own death objectively and still carry a tune.

the universe is merely a fleeting idea in god’s mind - a pretty uncomfortable thought, particularly if you’ve just made a down payment on a house.

eternal nothingness is o.k. if you’re dressed for it.

not only is there no god, but try getting a plumber on weekends. 

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now, having read that, isn’t it all much clearer? doesn’t everything make more sense? don’t you feel revitalized and ready to once again tackle that burly goon reality? i know i do. such is the power of the great philosophers.

posted by jmorrison on 01/10 | lost & found - ideas | | send entry