Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Another Spinoza poem found!

Baruch Spinoza

Like golden mist, the west lights up
The window. The diligent manuscript
Awaits, already laden with infinity.
Someone is building God in the twilight.
A man engenders God. He is a Jew
Of sad eyes and citrine skin.
Time carries him as the river carries
A leaf in the downstream water.
No matter. The enchanted one insists
And shapes God with delicate geometry.
Since his illness, since his birth,
He goes on constructing God with the word.
The mightiest love was granted him
Love that does not expect to be loved.

— Jorge Luis Borges,
translated by Yirmiyahu Yovel

Some more manly quotes:
Proust’s favorite metaphysician Henri Bergson (1859 - 1941) thought “every philosopher has two philosophies, his own and Spinoza’s.”

Bertrand Russell called Spinoza “the noblest and most lovable of the great philosophers.” Bloom concurs to the extent that Spinoza “was surely one of the most exemplary human beings ever to have lived,” though Bloom also finds “an icy sublimity” in Spinoza. “He was greatly cold and coldly great.”

Will somebody tend mind to the children?



I spend my days teaching the children. Today my cover was blown. An old student of mine asked me why I chose to teach ethics. I told him I didn't choose nothing of the kind. My passion is clear and distinct ideas mother-fucker. My passion is the radical enlightenment. My passion is strong.

A student told me he liked my class but that he could tell I hated teaching it. He figured that from when I said, "God damn, I hate teaching this shit."

I forgot I said that. I mutter a lot of things to the chalkboard that the kids can hear.

Today I also spoke to a kid who is failing all of his classes. I gave him a terrible pep-talk. I was like, "Kid, I failed the shit out of a lot of school. I know you aren't dumb. You just ain't feelin' it. You got to find what you are feeling and then feel the shit out of it. Lion eats the deer, but in a way deer eats the lion."

Another kid (the kids were all up in my junk today...I got caught in the hall) asked me if we were going to read anything from Timbuktu. I said, "What?"
He said, "Timbuktu"
I said, "What?"
He said, "The malian city."
I said, "No, we read stuff written by authors, not cities."

This was the best response I could come up with. I have heard the word, "Timbuktu." I even read the phrase on my Civ4 video game. I know from this video game that it was an awesome city with a kick ass Berber culture. But that is all I know. I often think "Timbuktu and Tyler too" but I know that is a bunch of bullshit. Today I failed a student.

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Octopus is twelth level Samurai

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Stoics and Sacks

I don’t normally get to dick around with ancient wisdom texts much—I’ve studied the Jewish stuff a bit and what not, but normally I am all about the analytic philosophy. I teach a bunch of horrible crap though so with the hope that I could find some ethical works that didn’t make me sick I started reading some Stoics. Here are some gems that will grow chest hair on your balls or vagina.

Enjoy the wisdom of Epictetus
(From Encheiridion)

Let death and exile and everything that is terrible appear before your eyes every day, especially death; and you will never have anything contemptible in your thoughts or crave anything excessively.
[Professor Passion breaks it down for his students: Imagine you have received a rectal punch. Not such a big man anymore are you?]


How long do you put off thinking yourself worthy of the best things, and never going against the definitive capacity of reason? You have received the philosophical propositions that you ought to agree to and you have agreed to them. Then what sort of teacher are you waiting for, that you put off improving yourself until he comes? You are not a boy anymore, but already a full-grown man. If you now neglect things and are lazy and are always making delay after delay and set one day after another as the day for paying attention to yourself; then without realizing it you will make no progress but will end up a non-philosopher all through life and death. So decide now that you are worthy of living as a full-grown man who is making progress, and make everything that seems best be a law that you cannot go against. And if you meet with any hardship or anything pleasant or reputable or disreputable, then remember that the contest is now and the Olympic games are now and you cannot put things off any more and that your progress is made or destroyed by a single day and a single action. Socrates became fully perfect in this way, not by paying attention to anything but his reason in everything that he met. You, even if you are not Socrates, ought to live as someone wanting to be Socrates.

[Prof. Passion break down: Stop being a Nancy boy. As kids we got better just by getting older. Those days are gone. There is nothing else worth doing but working at being better.]


For each action, consider what leads up to it and what follows it, and approach it in the light of that. Otherwise you will come to it enthusiastically at first, since you have not borne in mind any of what will happen next, but later when difficulties turn up you will give up disgracefully. You want to win an Olympic victory? I do too, by the gods, since that is a fine thing. But consider what leads up to it and what follows it, and undertake the action in the light of that. You must be disciplined, keep a strict diet, stay away from cakes, train according to strict routine at a fixed time in heat and in cold, not drink cold water, not drink wine when you feel like it, and in general you must have turned yourself over to your trainer as to a doctor, and then in the contest “dig in,” sometimes dislocate your hand, twist your ankle, swallow a lot of sand, sometimes be whipped, and, after all that, lose. Think about that and then undertake training, if you want to. Otherwise you will be behaving the way children do, who play wrestlers one time, gladiators another time, blow trumpets another time, then act a play. In this way you too are now an athlete, now a gladiator, then an orator, then a philosopher, yet you are nothing wholeheartedly, but like a monkey you mimic each sight that you see, and one thing after another is to your taste, since you do not undertake a thing after considering it from every side, but only randomly and half-heartedly.

In the same way when some people watch a philosopher and hear one speaking like Euphrates (though after all who can speak like him), they want to be philosophers themselves. Just you consider, as a human being, what sort of thing it is; then inspect your own nature and whether you can bear it. You want to do the pentathlon, or to wrestle? Look at your arms, your thighs, inspect your loins. Different people are naturally suited for different things. Do you think that if you do those things you can eat as you now do, drink as you now do, have the same likes and dislikes? You must go without sleep, put up with hardships, be away from your own people, be looked down on by a little slave boy, be laughed at by people who meet you, get the worse of it in everything, honor, public office, law course, every little thing. Think about whether you want to exchange these things for tranquility, freedom, calm. If not, do not embrace philosophy, and do not like children be a philosopher at one time, later a tax-collector, than an orator, then a procurator of the emperor. These things do not go together. You must be one person, either good or bad. You must either work on your ruling principle, or work on externals, practice the art either of what is inside or what is outside, that is, play the role either of a philosopher or of a non-philosopher.

[Prof. Passion break down: Do you want to be a scholar or an activist? Are you all about inquiry and discovery or are you about imposing your preferences. Don’t confuse the two. Check your ball sack/vagina. Is it full of steel? Mine is.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

I am still in Kansas anymore.

I heard a train whistle a few nights ago, but it wasn’t a whistle. It was a tornado. It left a lot of my neighborhood jacked. It did nothing to me. I got up early in the morning and rode my bike to the gym. A lot of houses, cars, and electric wires were jacked all over the place. I didn’t think much of it. New Orleans baby. On my way back from the gym I saw all the repair crews, police, soldiers, and what not. “Holy shit” I thought.

I got home and realized we had no electricity. I went back to campus and found that they had no electricity. With all the wires out all over the place, they shut down part of the city grid. About six hours later the power came back on. For those of us whose houses weren’t jacked, life goes on without alteration. For those who lost their homes…well, they are good and fucked. At this point, to lose everything after going through the hurricane, it has got to hurt.

Anyway I went riding around that night in the darkness. I visited Duck Island: After Hours. It is not as erotic as you may think. The birds are all there, snuggled in together near the bike path, but the park is rather creepy. Without any overhead lights (some of the area was still without power) the shadows played tricks on me and I avoided potholes and declines that didn’t exist, and rode through potholes and declines that did. It reminded me of the long night marches I did back in the army: a constant hallucination of falling.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Eagles of Freedom 2007 MegaMIx



Thanks Seabass

Sunday, February 11, 2007

I did not come to fuck around

Howdy friends. I came across as a real jerk in my last post. A big jerky jerk.
I apologize. Not everybody in this world is an assless buttdrip. I have met some good people down here, and I understand the joys of fraternizing. To Camaraderie: Salud!

I must say though, I have also been very happy working on my own nonsense. I pace around drawing shit on a board, wiping it off, grabbing books, skimming through them, writing and deleting some thoughts on non-conceptual content, extension, and Sellars dilemma. I often listen to kick ass Rock and Roll while I do this. My masterpiece is still far from complete, but at this point in the game, I don’t care. It’s the first time I have enjoyed writing a paper. I don’t really even want to complete this paper until I figure out a non-stupid way to express what I think to be an important insight.

My point: My work is my passion and passion is good. I am a cheerful swan!

Monday, February 05, 2007

NewOrleans Fun Quest

Last night I did some empirical science. Traditionally I rely on deduction from indubitable presmises to deny the worth of social entertainment. I figure:
a) Most conversations irritate me
b) People; when out drinking and looking for booty, have conversations
c) NBA basketball is FANtastic.
d) I should avoid going out unless it is to witness a NBA game

I take this argument to be true in this world. I am a happy camper attending Hornets games. In fact, next month I will watch Kobe rape the Hornets. Basketball rape, like sex rape, is not an act of sex but an act of power.

But I digress. I rarely go “out” and instead stay “in”. Last night I went “out”. I empirically tested my most cherished beliefs.

Mission Equipment:

Hat.
Gloves.
Super Shirt
Wool Sweater
Thermos full of “Sweet Whiskey” (aka (Whiskey and Simple Syrup)
Backpack
Two Beers
Knife
13 dollars

I traveled deep into the French quarter to watch the first parade of Mardi Gras season.
I drank all of my whiskey, my beers, and a bullshit mini-pint of Guinness. I stood in the cold with a group of grad students and their friends. I also ate tator-tots. The gang I was with had many conversations. These conversations irritated me. Overheard conversations:

1) An exposition on the movie “this movie is not yet rated”. Did you know that movie ratings are often based on bad reasons? Did you know that filmed boobies are more restricted than filmed violence? Guess what? The people who rate movies are a bunch of inconsistent prudes! No really! Some of them may have a conservative pro-family, pro-country, anti-gay, bias. [I believe when several people in unanimous agreement continue to state the obvious to each other, the discussion is not a discussion about a topic but an attempt by the speakers to affirm the significance and reality of their ability to exercise judgment. Seriously. Why are they talking?]

2) A discussion of left libertarianism/ Rawlesian redistribution. People began to disagree as to which of these theories gave the correct account of economic justice. The saying, “It depends on how you define the terms”, resolved these disagreements. Everyone agreed that, yes, this ambiguity of definition, and not an error on anyone’s part, was the explanation as to why it appeared that some of them did not know what they were talking about. Of course, after this breakthrough in insight, no one bothered to define “the terms”. The new found agreement amongst the disputants must not have been as superficial as it appeared because all parties of this dispute reacted to a hobo’s request for money in the same way: They ignored him.

3) The parade was pretty neat. The marching drums and horns (along with my sweet whiskey) made me want to dance; the costumes were fun and the floats risqué. Phalluses and fake nut sacks adorned many of the parade people, and some guy threw peanuts while shouting “I’m tossing my nuts around”. [This was the best overheard conversation]

I made it home by 10:30 pm. I had left my house at 4:30pm. Two hours were spent on the bus. It wasn’t a bad use of my time. I took the bus home with a logician in my department (the rest of the gang were going to share a taxi home at 3:00 am. Fuck that noise) and the logician and I had a good conversation. He pointed out an inconsistency in my preferred account for causation. This was very helpful for me. I like to think I showed him some problems with his atomism. We both walked away thinking about how much more work we have to do.

Friday, February 02, 2007

Howdy Gang!


I'm typing away like a little ferret. I am writing great things. While I write the Detroit Pistons play a basketball game. I like to look online to see how the Detroit Pistons are doing. I discover this gem:

"Wallace picked up his 14th technical foul in the third quarter, and will get an automatic one-game suspension after two more. Wallace asked Pistons coach Flip Saunders to take him out later in the period because of his anger with the officials. He was replaced by Antonio McDyess, who was quickly ejected after arguing a call."

This is delightful. Detroit has more technical fouls than any other team this year. Sheed, and Rip Hamilton lead the league respectively in getting called for technicals. Mcdyess, who got kicked out of tonight's game, was kicked out of a game a couple weeks ago for shoving down a fat white guy and talking shit to Keven Garnett. He is the calm and collect guy on the team.
Rip still wears a face mask.

Detroit isn't as good as they were a few years ago, but they make up for their decline in talent by increasing their jack-assery.
Let that be a lesson for us all.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

The only place for your passion fix!

Friends! Warriors! Ladies. mmm hmm. The Ladies.
I have been receiving requests for internet friendship.
"My Space" friendship. "Facebook" friendship.

It ain't happening suckers. No disrespect. Those accounts are just decoys. They are metaphorical "feints" in my very real boxing match with the internet reality. Don't be fooled by the sham profiles. This is where you can find the heart rending emotion, the inadequate conceptions of particulars, and weekly updates about the on-goings of Duck Island that you crave.
Look no further.

Here is morsel of passionate goodness:

Yesterday, as I rode to the Wholefoods, I inadvertently became a participant in operation "Escape from Duck Island". Normally the duck/swan/goose/turtle population stays within the confines of Duck Island. There, they look peaceful and majestic. There, they bring peace to the raging inferno burning within this young buck invincible. But, yesterday, Duck Island couldn't hold them. Ducks, Geese, and Swans stormed the bike path and the picnic grounds. Grass was pecked at. Trees were squawked at. Shit went down.
The park of tranquility became an orgy of avian dominance. No bagpipes on this fine day. Just the terrifying honking of a birddom yearning to be free.