glass house philosopher / notebook 2
Wednesday, 20th December 2006
Something my friend Jim Martin said yesterday had me searching in Wikipedia for this quote from Thoreau:
'The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation.'
Henry David Thoreau Walden
If I was more of a humanitarian, maybe I would feel the need to help all the lonely, desperate people including those at the top who are desperate for a bit of philosophical support. But I just don't dig this 'sad and lonely' jive. Or Joni Mitchell's hippie view from The Arrangement, 'You could have been more than a name on the door on the thirty-third floor.'
'You think there has to be "something more" because you can't see anything good there. That's your problem!' is my reply.
I want business people to come to me because they are overflowing with curiosity and the desire to share their thoughts and their spiritual wealth as I am, or hope to be.
(And their material wealth too. I promise I won't be cheap.)
This is not therapy. I am not a counsellor. I don't offer support or comfort or consolation. How many times do I have to say this?
Philosophical thinking can be 'merry'. I agree with you there, Jim. It can also be dark, disturbing, only for the strong of heart and soul. As Nietzsche knew.
And negative, corrosive, nihilist if that's what turns you on. I refuse to make judgements. (Spoken like a true Sophist.)
Philosophy is radical. It digs down below the surface, strikes at the root. It doesn't offer easy help or cosy reassurances. It demands that you re-evaluate your life and your projects, leaving no stone unturned. Philosophy demands everything that you can give without promising anything in return.
On being a 'business philosopher'
I can see the self-styled 'philosophical counsellors' sagely nodding. That proves I didn't go far enough...
I want people prepared to think the unthinkable for the sheer, mischievous fun of it.
I want people who are prepared to be knocked down off their high horse, not looking for their pathetic lives to be shored up.
You don't know whether your life is worth living? Maybe it isn't. Here, you can borrow my gun!
And I am not a 'moral philosopher', so don't ask me what I think is the 'right thing to do'. I'm interested in moral philosophy, sure, but as a phenomenon. I want to get to the bottom of it, just as I want to get to the bottom of all sorts of things. Curiosity is what drives me. I will try anything once.
Or even twice, just to be sure...
(The postman just arrived, with an Xmas pressie from Rachel and Andrew. Raconteurs Live at the Astoria. It's playing now. Wo-oow!)
I need to make some preparations before I cross my Rubicon. The boats are already burned. (Incidentally, for all you addicted gamers out there. Try Marathon Rubicon. It's free. You won't be sorry.)
First, get all this shit out of my head. Fancy notions of being remembered for my 'great contribution'. When I die you can process my body to make chicken feed. That would be an ecologically useful contribution.
Brains that don't produce useful thoughts can still be valuable as food.
(I don't whether my thoughts are useful or not. That's irrelevant. All that matters is that you are prepared to pay for them. Maybe I'll be the world's first honest Sophist.)
Second, I need the right equipment. Yesterday, I got hooked up to Skype. My username is geoffrey_klempner. Calls by prior arrangement only. But don't waste my time with boring crap because I have to get my Powerbook G4 laptop specially fired up to run the software.
What other equipment? A suit and tie, because I'm prepared to conform, when conformity is required. But no razor. Every man has his limit.
Third, no more trivia or spewing my guts out onto the page for public entertainment. This is my last blog entry. I'm reserving the last page for something different. Notebook three will be exactly that: a sober, working notebook intended strictly for writing in progress...
If I can only keep it up...
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