/lit/ - Literature

>>12926479
this is not to say that i am not a little proud of Pinball Metaphysics today, i am (what if the unconscious were structured like a pinball machine, a desiring-machine...) or that i don't thin Wilber is cool, he is. or that Land has given a terribly consistent theory of late modernity, he has. or that i would expect to see the ghost of Rene Girard standing around the craters and other horrible scenes that i dread are going to appear, as he would. and the Buddha would probably go to hell if he had to and squeeze a few drops of compassion out there too. all of this.

i guess it's just that philosophy really doesn't make you a better person, in the end. it can make you a marginally less selfish and foolish one, if only because skilled writers have a particular way of describing the nature of our psychological processes in such a way that, even decades later, we can encounter writers who describe our inner workings better than we could have ever described them ourselves, and that is often a kind of a minor miracle when it happens, when we realize that we are allowed to make moves we didn't even know we could make, as if some weird invisible software program with which we are always struggling has made things This Way, and they are That Way, until, one day, they just Aren't That Way anymore. this is kind of an incredible process to me, because so often it seems like we are engaged in this mysterious kind of weird and grotesque ballet that we do on behalf of...i don't know even know what it is, it's the General Will or whatever the fuck we have absorbed from media or from our parents that makes us act the way that we do. and nobody fucking knows why this started, or why things are the way they are, or how they are going to end up. and it all just keeps going, year after year, generation after generation. and may indeed just do so forever.

the Indians have a lot of cool ideas. the Chinese do too, i read a lot of those guys. but for whatever reason these days it's the Hindus. being me i have to fucking read everybody, and this is definitely a quirk in my psychology to feel the need to do this.

anyways. i'm tired of grief and grievance, salt and outrage, shock and trigger. paying attention to these things has given me some interesting things to brood on and helped me to view the world in a different way, but sometimes the machine gets kind of tired and the game becomes a little less fun. so i get frustrated and dream of just living in a cave somewhere.

>tldr: waaaaaaaaaaaahhhh