Showing posts with label the invisible college. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the invisible college. Show all posts

Sunday, July 1, 2012

culled from 'the stone' - work of electronic literature




http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/06/30/is-philosophy-literature/#more-130657

But what is literature? That in itself might appear to be a philosophical question. Yet the most persuasive answer, to my mind, was supplied by a novelist, Evelyn Waugh. (Well, not just a novelist — also the most versatile master of English prose in the last 100 years.) “Literature,” Waugh declared, “is the right use of language irrespective of the subject or reason of utterance.” Something doesn’t have to rhyme or tell a story to be considered literature. Even a VCR instruction manual might qualify, or a work of analytic philosophy. (Waugh, as it happens, was not a fan of analytic philosophy, dismissing it as “a parlor game of logical quibbles.”)
And what is “the right use of language”? What distinguishes literature from mere communication, or sheer trash? Waugh had an answer to this too. “Lucidity, elegance, individuality”: these are the three essential traits that make a work of prose “memorable and unmistakable,” that make it literature.

It may be that the most strikingly obscure continental writing  (e.g., of the later Heidegger and of most major French philosophers since the 1960s) is a form of literary expression, producing a kind of abstract poetry from its creative transformations of philosophical concepts.  


Still, I sympathize with one motive behind naturalism — the aspiration to think in a scientific spirit. It’s a vague phrase, but one might start to explain it by emphasizing values like curiosity, honesty, accuracy, precision and rigor. What matters isn’t paying lip-service to those qualities — that’s easy — but actually exemplifying them in practice — the hard part. We needn’t pretend that scientists’ motives are pure. They are human. Science doesn’t depend on indifference to fame, professional advancement, money, or comparisons with rivals. Rather, truth is best pursued in social environments, intellectual communities, that minimize conflict between such baser motives and the scientific spirit, by rewarding work that embodies the scientific virtues. Such traditions exist, and not just in natural science.
RELATED
More From The Stone
Read previous contributions to this series.
The scientific spirit is as relevant in mathematics, history, philosophy and elsewhere as in natural science. Where experimentation is the likeliest way to answer a question correctly, the scientific spirit calls for the experiments to be done; where other methods — mathematical proof, archival research, philosophical reasoning — are more relevant it calls for them instead. 
We need finally to break with the dogma that you are something inside of you — whether we think of this as the brain or an immaterial soul — and we need finally take seriously the possibility that the conscious mind is achieved by persons and other animals thanks to their dynamic exchange with the world around them (a dynamic exchange that no doubt depends on the brain, among other things). Importantly, to break with the Cartesian dogmas of contemporary neuroscience would not be to cave in and give up on a commitment to understanding ourselves as natural. It would be rather to rethink what a biologically adequate conception of our nature would be.

http://drunks-and-lampposts.com/2012/06/13/graphing-the-history-of-philosophy/

Scanning tunneling microscope image showing the individual atoms making up this gold (100) surface. Reconstruction causes the surface atoms to deviate from the bulkcrystal structure and arrange in columns several atoms wide with pits between them.

like atoms of stone
these links form a whole
from what could be imagined
as a porous thing or web

Poem for the Natural Philosophers (The Naturalists)

bit of old doggerel - not my normal style - in response to an NY Times "The Stone" (their philosophy series) blog post. Think this is the right post.....
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/09/17/why-i-am-a-naturalist/

Poem for the Natural Philosophers (The Naturalists)

Oh, silly Scientists - inside your brains
Thinking what you say,
So confident in your words today
That tomorrow we
Won't need words at all
Since Reason is so clearly Natural
Oh, Scientists,  how desperately you wish
Science wasn't Philosophical

Thursday, June 28, 2012

ambergrist squeeze a la melville rap (draft)

hopeless, i roll with some dope shit spoke swift

the way water flows post-diluvial

and folks look, sitting on the banks

while uprooted oaks drift,

and  teens feel a touch of  the ageless

hocus-pocus, while they smoke dirt spliffs.

that is to say, i’m trailing

the oldest flow scriptural, burning up my body

to transcend the individual.

salt-runs on my cheeks as if

the sailor’s ritual

lifted me off-decks into the whale’s bowels,

ain’t jonah, i’m no job, i just howl

whirling in my wind, breath stagnant

and foul, like my slave ancestors

under egyptian whips, i slather shit,

pyramid-builder, i eat bitter,

fill my belly up with my parent’s money

every night before dinner

and remove my own liver,

cold-hearted like kissinger,

check upon my eyes where pity doesn't glimmer;

hope i contain

my ways like the lion

in winter, hungry,

chewin’ on my money,

whole life a dung heap --

ain’t no way the reaper’d outrun me:

i gun my soul like a harley--

i’d hardly falter if i had to

put my grip upon the shottie

and use the moss-berg; all those shells



layin’ out your body.

you’re lookin’ at a half-dead man,

ain’t it obvi? ous ?

squeeze my ambergrist the naughti-est,

meaning there’s flecks, and nuggets

of gold in my piss

and shit,

gut a cunt with my thalamus, calamunous,

my game locked down like

a photo in an amulet,

vocabulary ravenous,

peasants make they sacrifice

to volcano-god rhymes,

i receive virgin minds:

kindling to light
the pipe:

an orange fire bubbling;

calmly burning up you troubling

emcees who deceive yourselves

that you don’t know nothing.

all i know holmes, is socrates, birds and bees,

overwhelmed by suffering,

it’s another things:

fools-pick-fools-for underlings;

that’s why

you under him.

my hypothesized boasts a whole ‘nother thing,

y’all pesticide, i’m Rachel Carson writin’ Silent Spring,

my pen, the mic, my voice hoarse

tellin’ stories like Horace

to make your brain porous

as end-of-the-day Hector,

drag both your lobes with the horses,

i fool all your hordes,

they transform to rotting corpses

and i donate your children

to orphanages.

your mothers become whores, diehard fans demand more

the hard-core ones know how the lyric goes.

g i swear only ever with the clan would i hold heat

‘cause they swing swords shinobi

thus my destiny

clear as a glass sea, homie--

permanently solo ‘cause there ain’t no luke

or wookie, just rookies.

cookie monster, all i see is cookies.

my wordsmith hammers out

watery damascus

on the stage i handle it.

no one ever said

to me, “control dis”

so unlike horsemouth in rockers

i grow my own, roll my own and smoke it

and i hope you choke on it.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Initial Exchange/Exchange Meta/Occupy Meta

Adam Cahan · Colorado College
I totally disagree. Art can clearly be linked to social activism, but what Occupy has shown is that there is no replacement for people getting together in a space. Occupying space. Whatever it's other merits, a TV show or a play or a film doesn't do that. Both are indispensable components of a healthy culture. However I'd argue the best way to support the goals of Occupy is to occupy! There's no replacement for it.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Army (draft)

The Morning’s black armour is well-oiled,
And He encroaches silently.

The gloom of dreams remains uncongealed,
Held at bay with idle browses

Through the rooms of many houses.
They come, shaking in triumph

Their long grey hair. They come
By my hands which halt the binding flame

Which for me would signal sleep.

---
See Joyce's 'I Hear an Army'

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Invisible Cafeteria at the Invisible College

The Cafeteria
always makes you sick,
never leaves your side,
knowing how much to eat, and what
is how you stay alive.