An Innapropriate Clash of Cultures...

I was reading Nietzsche's Untimely Meditations today and came across a quote which I had forgotten about by an Italian poet called Giacomo Leopardi. It reads:

Nothing lives that is worthy

Thy agitation, and the earth deserve not a sigh.
Our being is pain and boredom and the world is dirt - nothing more.
Be calm.

Now I know that it is arguable that this little piece of nihilism is simply an early example of emo kid ramblings (the Italian's a renowned for being a passionate people, after all; it seems reasonable that they would be ahead of the times with angst), but somehow the final line makes it unbearably beautiful to me.

As such I looked up some of his other poetry, and came across this:

To His Lady

by Giacomo Leopardi

Giacomo Leopardi

Beloved beauty who inspires

love in me from afar, your face obscured

except when your celestial image

stirs my heart in sleep, or in the fields

where light and nature's laughter shine more lovely—

was it maybe you who blessed

the innocent age called golden,

and do you now, blithe spirit,

fly among men? Or does that miser fate

who hides you from us save you for the future?

No hope of seeing you alive

remains for me now,

except when, naked and alone,

my soul will go down a new street

to its unknown home. Already at the dawn

of my dark, uncertain day

I imagined you a fellow traveler

on this arid ground. But there's no thing

that resembles you on earth. And if someone

had a face like yours, in act and word she'd be,

though something like you, far less beautiful.

In spite of all the suffering

fate decreed for human time,

if there were anyone on earth

who truly loved you as my thought depicts you,

this life for him would be a blessing.

And I see clearly how your love

would lead me still to strive for praise and virtue,

as I used to in my early years.

Though heaven gave no comfort for our troubles,

yet with you mortal life would be

like what in heaven leads to divinity.

In the valleys, where the song

of the weary farmer sounds,

and when I sit and mourn

the illusions of youth fading,

and on the hills where I recall

and grieve for my lost desires

and my life's lost hope, I think of you

and start to shake. If only I, in this

sad age and unhealthy atmosphere,

could keep hold of your noble look; for since the real thing's

missing I must make do with the image.

Whether you are the only one

of the eternal ideas eternal wisdom

refuses to see arrayed in sensible form

to know the pains of mortal life

in transitory spoils,

or if in the supernal spheres another earth

from among unnumbered worlds receives you

and a near star lovelier than the Sun

warms you and you breathe benigner ether,

from here, where years are both ill-starred and brief,

accept this hymn from your unnoticed lover.

Translated by Jonathan Galassi

The poem is about the idea of the Platonic ideal of beauty and the (im)possibility of ever finding it in this life. Leopardi is mourning the fact that he has come to realise that what he has found beautiful in all of the women he has loved is something transcendent; it is what the women embody rather than the women themselves. Leopardi also realises that the true object of his desire, Beauty in and of itself, is always going to beyond him. He is destined to always be the unnoticed lover.

I don't know how this poem was intended, but it is significant to me that it is, and could only ever be, a lament. People, especially in the Western/Judaeo Christian tradition, have always strived towards the infinite (thanks, in part, to the likes of Plato). This comes as part and parcel of having the wonderful imagination and minds that we do; we can abstract from what is and imagine what is not, and work towards making it real. However, we also get rather carried away with this. We are finite creatures, and can never know the infinite (however one might wish to imagine it being, and whatever sense one makes of such an idea). We need humility. The ideal of beauty means that we can strive and create things that we may never even have once believed possible. But it also means that we may fail to appreciate what is in front of us, as we are comparing it to an impossibility. Ideal beauty is exactly that; an idea. Human beauty is what we see in those we love, and in the world as perceived through our eyes. It is probably better to leave ideal beauty for the gods, and try hard to appreciate the beauty in our own lives for what it is.

Although I have to say I do like Leopardi's lament for the ideal. So maybe it is ok to open oneself up to the pain of the Absurd now and then, if only to bring beauty in to the world.

Having said this, for some reason I have done a very bad thing. The "clash of cultures" of the title of this post comes about because, taking a shine to Leopardi's poem, I took the next logical step of attempting to set it to the ukulele. You can hear the results in the video below...



I really am sorry...

Late Blooming Lesbians

This article was in the G2 supplement today.

Ok, there are many positive things about this article but there are still a number of issues that bug me here.

Athough they do at least nod at the fluidity of sexuality, the whole thing is still very heteronormative. It seems to mostly be suggested that one switches from straight (a hugely inappropriate term) to lesbian; that attraction to women beforehand was present but non-sexual. Surely the reason that this phenomenon often occurs in later life is not due to a change in sexuality, but due to a change in circumstances? When we are older, and have experienced more (including things like a long term heterosexual relationship and having a family) we often find ourselves more confident and comfortable in ourselves, and therefore more willing to explore aspects of ourselves we wouldn't have previously.

And men are largely excluded from this, but no reason is given as to why this should be. There is still much more of a stigma over homosexuality in men than there is in women, and more pressure to be either completely straight or completely gay as a consequence (as, despite the stigma, at least if one identifies as gay then there is a community there with which to identify). The fact that patriarchal values have always been dominant in our society has meant that the idea of being "straight" is not one which has been challenged from within, meaning that male sexuality is almost a cartoon of what sexuality should/could be.

When we get down to brass tacks, labels such as "straight", "gay" and "bisexual" serve a social purpose, and it would be wrong to try and deny this. And there are plenty of people to whom they comfortably apply. But, just as the fact that someone identifies as male or female doesn't mean they don't also have masculine or feminine qualities, just because someone identifies as gay or straight doesn't mean they don't also have a hetero- or homosexual aspect to their sexuality. The role of sexuality, our social definitions of "love" in it's various manifestations, and the relationship between the two definitely need a rethink. It feels like we should have grown up a bit more as a species by now. These things have been debated before, of course, but usually in a heavily politicised way (e.g. the sexual revolution and second wave feminism). It feels like we should be able to talk about these things on the level of the individual, interpersonal relationships and personal identity, preferably without too much overt reference to the "system". The term "late blooming lesbians" makes a good headline, but ultimately it doesn't really challenge our perceptions of what makes a healthy sexuality.

But anyway, enough of my hippy bullshit. I'm off to become a lesbian...

Sticks and Stones

Just some ramblings from my head I might try to turn in to a song. Or part of one (I am very tired right now, so there is every chance this is unadulterated nonsense).

I'm just a patchwork man
And all I have is words
And they say they can never touch you
But I'm far too tired to care
About what abstract people think
Too exhausted for romance
And if every broken tooth changes how I speak
Then every broken bone changes what I see
And if this has to be
Then I hope that it can be with you

And Cher is an idiot
'Cause I know there's life after you
And I know that I'll love again
And if it's better to have loved and lost
Then I'll break my heart a thousand times
And be the richest man on Earth
And I know that you'll laugh
When I say that I felt God
I always get religious when I'm tired
But if this has to be then, Lord
Let it be with you

Science Dick

Haven't posted for some time now. Have been in a state of revision for a while, and am now mostly in a state of disarray. Fuck it.

Anyway, time for a rant...

A scientist friend of mine has previously informed me of the phenomenon of the "science dick". This refers, essentially, to the esteem attached to one's research in science, and the sharing of said research. Basically, the scientist will collect his or her data, and as he does so his or her science dick will grow (it is an equal opportunity appendage, you'll be happy to hear). Eventually you just gather all your colleagues around, flop it out on the table and cry "Look at this baby!" to anyone and everyone within earshot.

Ok, so I'm over simplifying the scientific process somewhat here. Hell, I'm even oversimplifying the idea of science dick. But it is to make a point. Y'see, the beauty of science dick is that anyone can have one. You just have to put the work in. It doesn't favour any particular kind of person. You don't have to be a dick to have a science dick. And I'm not so sure this is the case in philosophy.

Philosophy dick, if it exists, is largely based on excessive self-esteem. For some reason, there is a climate of rampant alpha-maleism in the world of philosophy (and, I suspect, the humanities in general). The standard approach to any philosophical discussion in the world of academia is to shout the other person down. You tell them how misguided they are, how they're coming at it from entirely the wrong angle, and how they don't understand what they are talking about. The same kind of thing exists, albeit in a far more rhetorically snobbish way, in exchanges within philosophical literature; a paper is written, someone writes a reply, the original author replies to that (this time condescendingly pointing out how their interlocutor has missed the point of the original paper), the interlocutor replies once more... and the whole thing descends in to name calling (I'm really not exagerrating this; ad hominem attacks are really quite common, in some form or another). You are also, as an academic, encouraged to be self-aggrandising. Humility will get you nowhere. The result of this is that, unless you are willing to enter in to this remarkable display of cock-waving you are likely to be marginalised within the philosophy community. I've seen this happen on a number of occasions.

Of course, this aggression does serve a purpose. Submitting your work to the disapproving glances of your colleagues and social betters can be a good way to get the feedback necessary to improve it. And it encourages a... competitive attitude. Let's face it, debate would be pretty rubbish if everyone was just looking to agree all the time, and philosophy requires that we discuss and debate problems in order to try and move beyond them. Or at least reframe them occasionally.

But it is worth noting that different disciplines do work differently. I've been lucky enough to sit in on a group crit session at an art school before now, and was frankly astonished to find out that people were being quite genial, picking out things they thought were good about the work and offering ideas about ways they could possibly be developed. It occurs to me that this might be something that would be useful in the world of philosophy. Not that it never does occur, of course. And not that the general critical approach within philosophy isn't supposed to be positive. But, nonetheless, it is quite rare and would certainly make academia a less forboding place to be.

The problem is that criticism, haughtiness, alpha maleism and dismissiveness are institutionalised in the world of philosophy, meaning you have to be very thick-skinned to get by. Either that or fairly arrogant. But not all of us want to whip out our philosophy dick at every given opportunity. Sure, sometimes it is fun to do so. God knows I've tried to flail mine around now and then (to little effect). But this should be done among friends, in the same way you'd happily call your mate cunt-breath in the pub. The pub is, in fact, one of the few places where you can whip your philosophy dick out unproblematically. People can take it with a pinch of salt there.

And with that sentence I might well be winning some kind of prize for the most innapropriately mixed metaphor ever. Salty dicks or otherwise, there is, of course, a place for argument and criticism in philosophy, just as there is plenty of cattiness and arrogance in the world of the arts. But insofar as it is as prevalent and institutionalised as, in my experience, it is at the moment, I can't help but feel it is an overwhelmingly negative thing. I've sat through so many workshops and seminars in which nothing gets done just because nobody is fucking listening to anyone else in the room. Not that it would be any better if every argument in philosophy turned in to a love-in (might be more fun, but I still doubt much work would get done), but the ability to listen and occasionally adopt a consolidatory attitude could both allow more work to get done (the idealist in me hopes that traditonally the point in arguing has been to reach a conclusion) and make the academic atmosphere less poisonous and intimidating for those working in it.

It has occasionally been remarked that the history of Western philosophy is a series of footnotes to Plato. This is, of course, bullshit. But perhaps something we should hope to resurrect from Plato is the Socratic method. Socrates would insist upon his ignorance upon pretty much everything. He would engage his friends and contemporaries in conversation in order to allow them to look closely and analytically at their own beliefs, leading them in the conversation and therefore allowing them to overcome any misconceptions or inconsistencies they might have. I'm fairly sure I haven't seen any modern philosopher insist upon their own ignorance, feigned or otherwise. Perhaps they are overcompensating.

Or maybe I'm just not cut out for this philosophy lark...

Sex Eggs

For some reason I just started wondering if it would be possible to popularise the phrase "putting all your sex eggs in one basket" as a synonym for monogamy. I felt the need to share this, but just not anywhere where anyone might find it. I'll just continue sniggering to myself for now...

On which note...

Kudos Royal Mail, Kudos...

Tiny Letters!

As I have said before, this blog is largely a repository for my thoughts. Usually these thoughts can only ever exist in the abstract. Sometimes it is because they are purely conceptual (philosophy and whatnot). Sometimes it is because they are wildly impractical (like the time I decided that Newsnight would be vastly improved by filling the studio with panthers). But occasionally, very occasionally, they become manifest...

This is one such occasion.

The idea first popped into my head when I was chewing gum (the gum of Moustache Heroes fame). The gum in question comes with, very considerately, little pieces of paper with which one is supposed to wrap up the gum before throwing it away. However admirable this use, it is not the one that I first considered upon seeing it. My head went; "Hey! Tiny paper! You could write tiny letters on that stuff, y'know."

And so I went on to my Facebook page and sent out an appeal to anyone who fancied recieving a tiny letter, eventually finding nine volunteers. I should point out now that I only used the gum paper for one letter, as there wasn't a lot of it and it turned out that my handwriting is near illegible when miniaturised (apologies to the two people who have received the handwritten letters). After that I reverted to using a computer and printing out the letters (a surprisingly complex process involving writing the letters in a giant font size, zooming out to make it look small, screen grabbing and then printing out the results before trimming to size... there's almost certainly a simpler way to achieve these results but then I'm not one for making life easy for myself).

Anyhow, I wanted to do this properly so I decided to make a pile of tiny envelopes. What point is there in sending tiny letters if you're not popping them in tiny envelopes? So I went online, found a video about how to make envelopes and miniaturised the process. The result was this:




Now everything was falling in to place... I popped each letter into an appropriate envelope, popped a stamp and address on each and we were ready to go. For some reason I also put football stickers in a number of them.




If nothing else, I have achieved remarkably cute post. Will just have to wait and see if any of it gets delivered or if it all just gets mulched up in the sorting office...