You know, for the most part, philosophy is pretty damn boring. I think that’s why most people don’t read it or like it. But then there is a certain type of intellectual who likes the puzzle part of philosophy; they like the creativity , to watch the eloquence of problem solving, the twists and knots and the various interesting ways people can undo through spelling out.
While it is interesting at times to watch how people solved a certain problem, mostly to me, the mere puzzle solving is boring, pedestrian, mundane. It is impressive sometimes, but no more than a gymnast. Maybe that why I’m not so into sports. I do like watching the actual plays, and I got my team I root for and know a tiny bit of the politics and larger seasonal bracket strategy and stuff, but mostly it appears to me so routine and uninteresting, slightly entertaining, but mostly like listening to pop music. Sounds nice but oh so BORE-ing!
So maybe I gave myself away.
Philosophy is interesting to me when it verifies and confirms what I already know. Sounds lame and self centered doesn’t it. Well, it is just this type of verification that so rarely occurs ‘out there’ that allows for people to understand what I’m saying as self centered. And that’s why it is interesting, because so very very few people really understand what philosophy is: The only way it verifies to me what I already know is by conveying a meaning that apparently so very few understand.
Fkg stupid, huh.
Take the example of music. Pop music is so very boring and lame, as well as POP-ular because it is doing nothing interesting. It is mundane repetition. Sex for fucking; beats for moving; lyrics for saying the same thing everyone else is saying; sound for getting loaded; bliss in vacancy. Worship for fashion; security for money. New new new from old old and blah shit crap.
Now this is never to say that I think Ratecliff’s song. SON OF A BITCH is not catchy and even pleasant and danceable, more that it is a product first and art second, of having only the ignorant bliss. It is identity and dumness before authentic relation. It is flat music. Don’t get me wrong ; I’m pretty dumb and sometime music is just there to be dumb to, but the mundane human interactive world of bs I just had to leave, even almost before I entered it.
I am an artist because art is first; and what comets next … Well, pop music never occurs without some sort of social investment. There is no choice in being socially involved. Sometimes you just gotta accept things.
BUT on a slightly different tangent…
What prompted this post and then got keel-hauled into the above non-sense is : maybe it’s the translations:
Derrida is like reading folk music. Ive been browsing through a book of his essays and I remembered why I never really got into him. I’ve read enough, mind you, to know that he is merely repeating what I already know, but now we should be looking at how philosoohers say it. He is quite interesting in as much as he has to be included in what is interesting, but honestly, he’s kind of a pussy. Reading Derrida is like reading poetic mush about the beauty of a sunset. You can’t account for taste.
( yes; I do write mushy poems, but I don’t usually like to read them by other people. But wait: My mushy poems aren’t mushy though; they are sincere. There is a difference. Sincerety is not boring, but sincere poems can be nauseating — and not in Sartre’s sense! )
Derrida puts all this poetic mishmash literary image-while-still-being-scholarly stuff. It’s like listening to folk music. It’s nice. But, lets be real: kinda embarrassing. At least now it is. And again, don’t get me wrong: some of the folk stuff I did (or maybe do) listen to and like, but I was quite high then (am I now?) and upon awakening…. I dunno, I guess I’m not as poetic as Sarte and Derida. (I talk out my ass sometimes).
Heidegger is like listening to classical music, a lot of marching though. Even though he might be talking about poetic stuff, he still evokes a sense of passion with heart, but not the bleeding heart kind. He speaks with authority (ironic, huh.) moving, pulsing, turning, peaking, dropping.
Zizek is like Lenard Skynard or Arosmith, or even Led Zeppelin. As many have said, Zizek the rock star. He bubbles literary guitar hero solos.
That’s all I got right now for the philosopher-music analogies.
But, I dunno; I think maybe what is needed now is a little punk rock, a little Hendrix metal, a little hard core Dead jam philosophy. And the great thing is: it can’t be faked.
I’m sorry, but some of these academic types, it’s like theve never partied. Never actually been crazy.
But I’m a judgemental fuck.
I probably don’t mean any of this.