Sunday, January 30, 2011

creative fidelity


Here’s a little treatise on creativity as such, fidelity as such, and wandering toward intimately empathic time.



backstage notes



Finishing “creative fidelity” feels like a milestone, not because it’s especially comprehensive of what I want to do going forward (it’s not) or difficult (not), but because it draws closure on something that began over a year ago, and this is somewhat represented by “c.f.”’s frequent linking back to earlier pages. I feel I’ve won a justified freedom now to write as eccentrically as I please without contradicting (or undermining) my fidelity to living very ordinarily wherever that’s apt—ethically, cogently, and graciously. But that’s as if life isn’t theater; yet life is theater, to my sensibility. Particularly theatrical is the pretense that life isn’t theater.


Wednesday, January 19, 2011

to be really realistic...



I’m simply me. It’s not complicated. I can make it complicated. But I don’t seek that.

I have the interests I have. So it goes. I get enthusiastic about things easily, and I’m thankful. It’s not egoistic to be thankfully enthused about things that don’t interest many others, if I don’t blame others for not having my interests (which would otherwise be very silly.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

landscaping notes: 2010


This is about project-ive prospecting as bibliophilia. Initially, I’m entranced by a sense of friendship as appeals of bibliophilic intimacy.

In the long run, I’m pursuing a sense of “our evolving nature” as having long ago become no longer primarily biological. I allude to “a large-scale interest in cultural evolution, including literary modernity (with other modes of mode-rnity)”—such an expansive excursion.



feeling for each other


We prefer solidarity to common sociality, prefer kindredness to solidarity, and prefer intimacy to kindredness, though all need each other. But not every fidelity is equally worthwhile.



Saturday, January 15, 2011

relation ships


Waters of time may be better traversed through gems of coalescent relations we find in our lives.



as if there’s no news

a note on dancing lightly in a thematological map

I know the leading news of the day, the past week, every week (of recent decades). If you’re reading this years from now (Jan. 15, 2011), you might have no idea what the leading news has recently been, probably in part because time dissolves a vibrant Moment into so many wakes. However, I don’t wish to give long-range salience to this week’s leading news. Besides, significance to Time is likely not immanent, though intimated in the Moment, invisibly to most witnesses (and commentators).

There are themes that become trends, and some that last for the lot of us, even some born fully in a Moment. But we likely don’t know which Moments, themes, or trends will endure. This season’s leading events will vine with uncounted others to give a weave to their season (which, you know, I rendered earlier), maybe at the scale of an era to be later defined by those who define eras.

The lasting stories are likely “simpler” than their genetic Moments because time caters to accessibility, not favoring conceptions of miasmas or subtle views, because general importances tend to pertain to the common ground. So generally lasting stories are tangibly “transcendent” of complexity, abstracted by reduction to what most persons would find durably important. A shrewd artist may wrap her/his high story in address that appeals broadly.

Besides, high ground requires wide midlands for support, and midlands require vast lowlands—particularly for things that sell well and durably, becoming “classics” in their stereotypical or archetypal appeal because they’re readily assimilated.

My little metastory here isn’t a lament, merely an embellishment of the obvious. A near-term reader might feel I’m isolated from our 24/7 conversations because I don’t acknowledge the obvious or analyze the present much. Conceptual prospecting is easily dismissed as solitudinous luxury.

But what worthwhile work is done without extended solitude, except the work of common sense? Even the work of society is only advanced by the solitudinous work that finds ways to advance our common senses. Innovation is not a wisdom of the crowd. Maybe I’m going somewhere new, which the market for news (like most art and science) doesn’t afford.

Maybe not. Maybe you couldn’t care less. (Such a soul might best stay away.)



Friday, January 14, 2011

pre-positional soup


He’s in love
with a complex, some Intimacy of Flourishing
in resonance with questions
of domainity as such (thus interdomainity),
legacy and scholarship irt lifeworld
consolidation of learning, reading, and thinking—a world
irt (and/or versus) a life, easily
presuming on itself an implicature
of the world, the World—to a life, at least,
surely (if unclearly) the world of one life,
nebulously open to where it’s going,
how best to further its wayfaring,
as the world does idealize a confidence expressed
by the rhetorical lucidity of the specialist,
like a professional theorist,
let alone a connoisseur of conceptual design,
classically the organotechnologist called a “philosopher,”
now to be a strange hybrid of academia
entwined in our evolutionarity of mind:
no happenstance but enactive
mirrorplay of drawing and evincing,
argument and teaching.



Thursday, January 13, 2011

deconstructive nostalgia


One chapter of Designing Positive Psychology (re: yesterday’s posting) criticizes the field for not enough appreciation of “dark sides of the human psyche” (that’s part of a chapter title).

I know those sides, home to transgression of comfortable boundaries, thrilling for some of us (not frightening). I came to know what the shadows know.

We come back to comfortable light and we smile, like Maureen Dowd confessing on Christmas a Patti Smith behind her eyes.



Wednesday, January 12, 2011

designing minds


Just now, I had a little inspiration of inquiring mindfulness about academically designing lives.



Saturday, January 08, 2011

one more day


I can’t be fair to this piece with any short statement that occurs to me. Sometimes, I write without clearly knowing why.



Friday, January 07, 2011

tale


Romanticism returns in us like anewing youth that never left belonging to one’s sensibility.



Thursday, January 06, 2011

nothing else


Here, I’m writing to a poem titled nothing else.



Tuesday, January 04, 2011

haunted entertaining


Can a truly postmodern mind mate with its time?

Seriously, we quite playfully sought a communicative intimacy that cannot last apart from letters.

Joyous, beautiful life dies with those who live it, save for our tangible designs.



Monday, January 03, 2011

wake


Feeling like a narrative figure has become second nature to me, good for a mind easily seeming to be engulfed by its own pretentions.

However, the woman across the way from me may not be so entertained.



Sunday, January 02, 2011

descent time


Holidays away from a scheduled world cause happy warps in lived time. It’s like 2 weeks ago that the past 11 days began. Posting a story 22 hours ago, anchored by a party 48 hours earlier, seems 4 days ago.

It’s time to forget, as I’m back in HyperNet City tomorow, but not possibly of it all.

Sherry Turkle’s new book, Alone Together, evidently details the pathos of the social networking planet that keeps everything pervasively vacuous for maximal marketing effect. Do I want to read about that? No. But one should. Facebook today was valued by investors at $50 billion. The only reason could be that Facebook is a marketer’s dream. Know what? I’ve been on the web from the beginning, but I’m not on Facebook (not actively; I have one of the earliest accounts, but don’t use it). You can know nothing more about me on the web than I’ve chosen.

The ideology of marketing promotes a technology of the self (which Foucault warned decades ago; and Heidegger before that posed “the question of technology” as heir to the Question of Being).

It’s the new nihilism: the bravado and obsessiveness of social networking. And this week, Heidegger’s student, philosopher Burt Dreyfus, here in Berkeley (with whom I spent a good deal of time disagreeing years ago about Heidegger), is publishing a trade book (i.e., general audience book), All Things Shining, with Sean Kelly, Chair of the Philosophy Dept. at Harvard (here’s a recent column by him from the Times), that’s evidently a response to such nihilism, typified (ch. 2 of their book) by “David Foster Wallace’s nihilism” (which is the chapter title). They want to capture the attention of Millennials, in terms of Great Literature, like Herman Melville and I-don’t-know-who-else; I just bought it yesterday, and it’s not near the top of my list (impossible list), but interesting that two very different books come out at the same time overtly addressing technological nihilism. (Here’s a review of their book.)

Meanwhile, I’m distracted by more interesting things that distract me from what I’m “supposed” to do: I’m not supposed to try to integrate 7 Sunday NY Times articles on forgotten importance of criticism, which I’m dying to do.

Or what about Ashbery’s translation of Baudelaire from the recent NY Review of Books or the review of Tony Judt’s last book of autobiographical candors written as the professor of European intellectual history was withering away from ALS?

What matters?

The scheduled world returns tomorrow because the scheduled world returns tomorrow. My rampant enthusiasms are mine alone.

Your letter, written with such care, dwelling to dwelling, meets little time for equal care in return.

Then there are those agendaed issues of mine, re: surfaces as emergent from depths, things to say about the nature of relationships and friendship, how we are a plural psyche with aspirational audacities no less mindful of pragmatics.

How does creative fidelity meld with empathic time in us?

What may be the virtue of Literary (capped) presence, textual intimacy (again), and imaginative life letting itself be engulfed by a flesh of words in the body of an authorial communion?

What about intrinsic value and generative feeling at heights of what their minds can be brought together to do?

The scheduled world returns, and my pretentiousness here will be dissolved into the common ground.

No loss to anyone but me.

So sad.



new year


I got my agenda together for coming months. It might have happened sooner, had I not gone to a party last night.