Sunday, December 06, 2015

Monday, November 30, 2015

mondaynote



I want to post here more than I want to post at the other site; so I feel frustrated by my commitment to get to a certain point with development there (outerworldly, so to speak) before devoting time here—then most of my online time here.

Thursday, October 15, 2015

wish upon a star



Innerworldliness, Outerworldliness, truth to be made (a literairy mind), truth to be found (the Absolute Other).


Tuesday, October 13, 2015

love lace



Emergences from woolly Logos can be finely designed, a lace of sorts, maybe beyond “poetic” when texted conceptuality eyes a muse
beyond trOpical latticing.

Love of lace—of the lace, like authorial love of a story’s evolving,
the mystery drawing her on—would be a love of singularity, like any high poetry (or philosophy itself), though a narrated life (the lacing) evades narrative capture (some “definitive” biographical discourse),
for the sake of potential staying flourishive. Even a story about the dead may never really end, because how one lived is rewritten, as well as reincarnated, in new reading, forever waiting to be.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

music for eyes



Note by note, we do as we have time to be.


Sunday, September 20, 2015

woolly Logos



Strictly speaking, fuzzy logic pertains to cognitive computing.

Yet, alive mentalities involve living conceptualities that may seem ultimately fuzzy in no computable sense, more generative in their appellant ambiguities than algorithmicity can manage. Fuzzy temporality of a life shows itself born of fuzzy ontogeny that cannot be comprehensively retraced.

Topography may imply topology (domain) which may imply topogeny (individuation of conceptual facility). Tropology may become tropogeny, so to speak.

The most rigorously tenable conceptual inquiry can bring one to splendid heights of fuzziness, except inasmuch as we stipulate, axiomatize—or better: design—yet, by what orienting artistry, where to?

postsecret



Reasons of love may suggest that fuzzy logic can be good—exactly so, as tropes may be discursively refined, like philospher Harry Frankfurt’s Reasons of Love that, I wonder, may be found to gel with a sentimentalist theory of mind and ethical life (so-called “moral” sentimentalism), for It’s all about reasoning to live—flourishing highly.


Saturday, September 05, 2015

conceptualities of literary living



You see via “days..” (below) how easily I can cause you to feel comfortable forgetting about Gary’s bricolagic web siting,
as he apparently forgets his own site (no posting since mid-June)—
a site which is so in need of updating that he fails to even begin.

Yet, my capacity for new versions of promissory note is undaunted.
I do have a grand agenda! (I’m not merely a narrative figure.)

Friday, June 26, 2015

where are we?



The Pentagon’s research people—DARPA—are overtly planning to terraform Mars.

I’ve known for years that something like that was in the works.

Doing such things is Our destiny, not only because We want it, and We can do it. We'll employ the resources of Our solar system for Our evolving Good—and We'll take an artificial planetoid or two with Us to the next star.

Saturday, June 20, 2015

days of an American literary humanist



Yesterday, I commented briefly on the Pope’s encyclical, but I’ll do a better posting later, beyond what I did today for the Habermas Page. Yet, I don’t want to get into another detailed engagement with Vatican encyclicals. The temptation is nearly irresistible—and easily obtuse.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

happy trails



A June 1 “site update” note at the gedavis.com blog [March 16, 2017: which has been abandoned in preference for the “discursive living” blog] got cavalier with an unnamed friend who’s a psychiatrist to the rich in a very wealthy corner of a southern state. We’ve been corresponding for years as compatriats of interest in some areas of philosophy.
Would you like to read about a psychoanalyst’s confused sense of “Intelligence”? That is with a capital ‘I’ (while equating ‘daimon’ and ‘demon’). (I prefer the spelling ‘daimon’ rather than ‘daemon’ because the Aristolelian notion of being well is standardly spelled ‘eudaimonia’—not that I’m Aristotelian, but as Greek terms go….)
When I wrote that about ‘daimon / daemon’, I didn’t know that great Harold Bloom last month published The Daemon Knows: literary greatness and the American sublime. American sensibility is fundamentally different from European sensibility. Bloom has argued that America is basically a "post-Christian" land (The American Religion, 1992).

Friday, June 12, 2015

“I’ll see you in my dreams” indeed.



So I said to Mick (quoting from his review of the film), “Mick, you’re right: I thought about Blythe Danner’s Carol for days after. She ‘brings a history of emotion to’ the entire story.”

Then I said to Mick, “This glorious little movie has that authenticity I can’t get enough of. ‘Unforced and true’ life itself has enough romance, comedy, tragedy, and irony (Shakespeare’s four seasons of life).”

“Intelligent dramatic art gives us the ‘honesty and virtue’ that we too often lack in life.

“Let’s have more of life be unpretentious art,” I said to Mick.

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Monday, April 20, 2015

designing woods



Soon, my runarounds there and here about writing offline without posting will be vindicated by the volume of posting that will happen regularly.

“So, that’s what had been gestating in dark woods.”

Presentation emerges, in a sense, backwards from development toward what’s to be presented. The storyteller knows the story before finding a fun translation (to be as if re-telling is the First Ever telling for the teller, too—as if there was no translation—as we are in this together, because we always were, though that was not yet known).

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

“you're not serious.”



There’s always a kind of substance to style. Seriousness belongs with speaking truth, but too much truth (e.g., exposition that evinces reader questions of their own conscience) “should” be kept light.

Lightness—style—is a normal way to signal that there’s not a lot of truth to be had. It’s entertaining, but not to be seriously entertained. Opinion writers in mass media know they must show style and not get too serious about matters. Besides, sophisticated persons show style. This is often more important than what’s said. Whatever you got to say, let style give it merit because presenter posture is easily regarded as primarily important for reception of what’s said—especially if you want a good impression to last long after others have forgotten what you said (and you’ve forgotten, too, but treasure being remembered).

Monday, March 09, 2015

mondaynote



So—you want to know what was excluded from “a trace of spirited time” that allowed me to do something manageable by Sunday.

Yeah, well, a lot. I basically have my agenda set for the next several years. Last night was a little preface premised on my promise to follow up an earlier posting by last night.

Funny to me is that I’m getting comfortable about linking from there to here—perhaps after I organize an itemized, multi-level listing of old things here. I certainly don’t want to leave things as they are. Earlier areas of this site have kindred pages across areas. The coherence I see here is a happy thing.

Last night, I felt a wonderful sense of cohering in the distance between there and here.

And I have enough material offline to work with, for creating narratives online, that I could enjoy another fifty years of gardening. Meanwhile, new books emerge; and journal articles and others’ paths to enjoy meeting—and there’s always the news.


Saturday, February 21, 2015

There will be spring!...



...though maybe you find spring figuratively in your work, no matter the winter. I hope so!

Facebook algorithms thought I might know you—evidently because I saw your Facebook page years ago, when we were corresponding by e-mail—not via Facebook!—about history. Technology! [Other readers: Johanna in icy Michigan got an e-mail about this posting.]

I’m still engaged with Habermas’s work, and a new set of essays by him is coming into English this spring, The Lure of Technocracy. I’m still a promoter of his work, even though I disagree with him like one may disagree exuberantly with one’s much-loved partner.

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

sitting with confessions of a dispossessed memoirist who can’t do fiction



Jeffrey interviews Alexandra—long gone from where she grew up in white Rhodesia, but feeling in America like an alien—about her new memoir.

[…]

A: And my agent...she said, you may have a minuscule bit of talent, but you have got no story, and so you’re on your own with fiction.

I perked up:

G: I know that feeling—though I don’t have an agent.

She ignored me.

A: And I thought, no, wait, I do have a story.

J: You have got a story.

A: Yes, I have got a story.

G: I do, too.

Sunday, February 15, 2015

sundaynote



OMG, simply googling ‘gary’ results in a first page that includes G+ postings by me—let alone googling ‘gary e. davis berkeley’. I found this out because I was on a little trail of etymological interest, starting with ‘Edinburgh’ (caused by interest in the Scottish Enlightenment—very interesting), which has an interesting root for ‘edin’ to which ‘edward’ (my middle name) is related. So, what about ‘gary’?

Gary never sought ranking. Gary enjoys sharing stuff.


so



In your own way, you’re a better photographer than Vivian, though black&white suited her ethos.

Happy birthday.

Hey, you were born the same day of the month as Miranda July.
But she was 1974.

I prefer your sensibility to hers.

Thursday, February 12, 2015

dear Vivian



The story about you today at the News Hour was good, you’d agree, but ultimately clueless. I attached a long “Comment” to the website transcript, but there’s no link for that, so I’m archiving it here:
Was it masquerading?

This wonderful story of a wonderful artist highlights trying “to understand how a brilliant photographer was able to lead this sort of secret life while masquerading really daily as a nanny for over five decades,...”

There are at least three dimensions or modes to this issue. Firstly, what’s a woman artist to do in her era?

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Are the soft carillon chimes heard?



The composition is evidently the player’s own.

Or is it atmosphere hardly noticed?
[Persons walk around campus on this sunny day as if oblivious.]

The music plays. It’s done well.
It is beautiful, no matter that it’s not heard.
No matter that the beauty was to and for itself.
It was there,
and might have been witnessed.
If not—or inasmuch as not—
no matter. It lived—and knew
a lusciousness of itself.

Our flash in the Dark of Time is a joy
all its own, gently concerting voices among the trees.

So, we play along among the senseless constellations.

What fun
making sense of things.