"He is leaving the White House but he will always be my friend."

Dubya and Andy, sitting in a tree . . .

When I got home yesterday afternoon I received an unexpected email from you-know-who, asking for certain set of bank statements from our joint account. Good thing I'm more organized than most think, eh?

It took me a while to collect the paperwork, and sent her an email telling her I could not fax them, I would have to scan and email them instead. Sure, her email was polite, but remembering my decision and trying to keep to my new moral maxim of only treating others only as well as they treat me (and also remembering that she's always nice when she wants something . . . until she gets it and then turns into a mega-bitch) I sent a short note asking if I was going to regret it. She was asking for a favor, for me to spend my time and energy, which is a rather "friendly" action on my part towards someone whom has now decided that she is my enemy. Little did I know, she expected it. No, not expected: she demanded it. All that was necessary was a simple "no" to my query--even if she didn't mean it--which would have gotten her the info as quickly as humanly possible. More flies with honey, eh? Well, she instead poured on the vinegar: she told me "it's not like you're donating yr [sic] liver. [Y]ou don't even have to be friendly about, just please do it." She made it clear that she was entitled to it, and would not treat me with any more respect or concern for it. Good incentive for action, eh? I was just supposed to "jump" because the queen said so. Typical. I wonder what it is like from her perspective, to actually see the world revolving around you.

Anyway, I thought long and hard, and finally ending up sending it. I decided to be the better person since--well, I am. But money in hand or not, this is the last favor I do for her. I should have just lied in the first place and said I didn't have it. But: you learn from these things. Next time I will.

Today began just as every other. I awoke kinda late, and hurriedly prepared my talk. I was brilliant, as always, plumbing into the depths of Veblen's theory of social evolutionism (not to be confused with "social Darwinism," that's something completely different). I received an unexpected call on my phone while I was in class, but I'll get to that.

I had a good chat with Roger about the market and what I need to do to compete. And, I went home to write.


Also: I got my tax refund back today, which was less than I had expected. I called the IRS, and after waiting on hold for a very long time, I finally spoke to a representative to get an answer as to why my refund was in error. As politely as he could, asked me to look at line whatever, and then another line whatever. Then he asked me to subtract them. Needless to say, having an IRS agent correct your math like a third-grade teacher is embarassing, to say the least. And I was a whiz at physics at one point, but now I can't even get the math right on a simple 1040A?

After a brief trip to get the car registered in my name (and my name alone), I got an email from a girl who I went out with last week. Apparently she googled me (as the saying goes) and of course, the first hit for my name is this site, not my academic site. She read all the things about the breakup and decided she didn't want to take a chance on me. An email explaining that this is a literary experiment, not a day-to-day chronicle received no response (yet). The sad part is that she was together, responsible, insightful, witty, pleasant and childless: all the things I'm looking for in a woman. Not just a girl at the bar, mind you: a woman. But I guess the illusion is more plausible than the reality? Long story short: Thena is still making my life miserable. Just in her absence now, not only by her presence.

To make matters worse, I'm over her. In my most Sartrean of moments, I spent all weekend mentally moving past her. I even sent her a goodbye email and everything. I feel I'm ready to find the right person, but alas . . .

I wonder what good degrees and accomplishments are good for if they don't speak in your favor? Needless to say, my online persona has now becoming a liability. Shortly after reading the email, I raced to remove all the meta-tags that included any variation of my name, such that I would not have future recurrences of this upsetting incident. So for my lazy readers who merely type in my name to find this site, you may need to actually use the URL once the spiders do their thing.Hell, this experience is actually making me think about tearing this site down.

A little history for those newcomers, I began this little thing in 1996, when my HTML skillz had not yet been honed. I was "blogging" before there was a name for it. Back then it was called "All that's fit to shit," which for you in the know, is a pun on the motto of the New York Times "All that's fit to print." (I thought it was very witty when I was 18.) It was a frames based layout, and I hand coded every entry. Greymatter makes life easier, but the intent has always been the same: a little catharsis, in a semi-public forum in my little corner of the information super-highway, from which to pontificate and wax philosophical. Screaming at the nothingness like a modern day Oedipus, minus the eye-gouging. This site gone through many incarnations (always at the same web address) and I was thinking about version 4.0 for launch this summer, which would involve getting a domain and lightening up the title, as well as the look and feel. I've even got a good Wittgenstein quote for the domain--but I haven't registered it yet, so I'm not posting it. But now I'm seriously considering shutting down what amounts to one of the longest running non-porn sites on the internet. But, I guess all must eventually come to and end; even cocktailsandpain, which is in many ways developed how I think about this site and its function.

I dunno: May be I'm taking this hard, as I do not deal well with rejection. Maybe I'm just angry and frustrated at all the things that have happened today. Maybe the girl from last week is right, and I'm not ready to date. The only thing certain is that in lieu of curling up with a girl tonight, I'm curling up with a bottle.

Cheers to all and good night.

All right: George Mason University!!! I stand corrected.

I just wrote something that will change my life (hopefully for the better, either way) and now I'm going to continue writing something that will change the world.

My new 'theme song' of sorts. As always, Mike Muir tends to put things in the most direct and simple way possible:

"Don't you give me give me give me your borrowed time
Don't you give me give me give me your recycled line
Who do you think you are? You must think you're something

"Don't you give me give me give me you're here to help me
Got to get with the program, I don't need no charity
I don't need shit and you ain't nothing

"And if I made a perfect world you'd be gone

"Don't give me give me give me your misguided help
Don't give me your nothin', I can do it myself
Well I don't want shit and I don't need nothing

"Don't you give me give me give me your look of concern
I don't need your meddling when you gonna learn
Well you ain't shit and you ain't nothin'

"Well I just made my perfect world-oops you're gone
Well now you know what it feels like not to belong-so long
So don't you give me give me give me your nothing-no

"Don't give me your second-hand sympathy
Don't give me your nothin', just let me be
Who do you think you are? You must think you're something

"Don't you give me give me give me your worried tone
You can't fool me with that crap just leave me alone
And I don't need it, I don't need nothing

"Now I have a perfect world, now you're gone-oh oh oh
Don't give me your nothin', don't give me your nothin'

"Don't give me give me give me that "What did I do?"
You don't have to do nothing, you're just being you
I'll tell you why, you ain't nothing

"If you make your perfect world you will find
The only place that's perfect is in your mind
What's perfect for you is like a hell for me
Two perfect worlds, it just cannot possibly be-oh oh oh oh
Don't give me your nothin'

"Don't give me give me give me your 'I'll be there'
I don't believe how you lie, you don't care
Don't give me your shit, don't give me your nothin'

"Don't give me give me give me your 'I love you'
They just are words and the words ain't true
You're full of shit, your words mean nothing

"And I just made my perfect world, now you're gone
And in my perfect world your perfect world don't belong-so long

"No no-don't give me your nothin'"

I dreamt of her again last night, as I have several times over the past few months. And once again, I turned my drowsy head to the side to see her upon awakening. When I saw nothing but empty space there beside me in the bed reality quickly descended upon me, tearing me from my soporific state of bliss. It was at that moment, jarred awake by the pain as intense as it was when she called that fateful Friday night, that I made a decision.

I have midterms and papers to grade this week. The midterms have to be back on Thursday to meet the withdrawal deadline, so I cannot sit on them. I haven't finished preparing my lecture for tomorrow. I have to run a friend to the bus station downtown tomorrow, and I jam afterwards. So far this week is shaping up to be pretty hellish.

Add to it that I just pissed off a close friend today (I'm not exactly sure why she's mad, but she's deleting my emails so I have no way of knowing). Add also to that the mounting pressures of finding time to write now that classes are back in full steam, and well . . . I'm not going to have much of a social life the next few weeks. Not that it matters, because I've just about had it with people anyway.

George Mason University?!?!? I'm just going to throw my braket away.

Bad year for the Big Ten: Illinios, Wisconsin, Michigan State, Indiana and Ohio State all out before the Sweet 16. But, at least the argument can be made for USF's crappy season when 5 Big East Teams are still alive. Purdue has no such excuse.

Today: trolling through the Collected Papers of Bertrand Russell, Vol. IV.

"Fuck that. What do you think this is? You think I’m gonna call and let you know every time I go somewhere? Get a grip."

*giggle*

"Nobody, Nobody
will ever love you
the way I could love you
cause nobody's that strong"
-Tom Waits

I spent the day trudging through Russell and the early Wittgenstein, building my foil to use early in the first chapter (this is what a referential theory of meaning looks like, and this is why you should avoid it). I wrote a little, edited some of stuff I already have written, and anticipate meeting my self-imposed deadline of a (very rough) draft of these first two chapters by the end of the month.

Having nobody around is great for being productive. My work is a jealous mistress now. But, I don't think I'm gonna be jeopardizing this positive work streak by subjecting myself to another two-year "march of death." The last two of them (Kat and Athena) took a lot out of me, and ended up being strikingly parallel; if I didn't know any better, I'd think they were the same person.

The single life is kinda cool, I just need to get out more, so that I can . . . you know, be single.

I've been super-productive over the past week. I've had some time off work (Spring Break) and have been spending most of my afternoons in the library, reading and writing. It's almost amazing how much time I have, I wonder . . . oh, yeah. No social life.

I actually pissed a friend off pretty badly this morning for (of all things) being respecful of her wishes. My poor social skills strike again! No wonder I'm so lonely. For the love of non-existent God: Thena left me for a guy that treats her like shit, and then brags about it on his website! I treated her like a fucking queen, and homeboy is pulling shit I would never have gotten away with. Or, maybe I would have . . . maybe she wouldn't have left if I treated her like crap. I guess I've gotta learn to be an asshole: I've gotta learn to act like I have the IQ of a fencepost, to grunt in time, to cheat, to ignore and to mistreat in order to attract the fairer sex. It worked on her, apparently. It seems that although I'm pretty adept at acquiring the phone numbers, when they receive my message in the sober light of day my call is not worth returning. They're pity numbers, I guess--throwing a bone to the lonely old philosopher who has more than a passing aquaintance with morality.

I was supposed to be making noise with the boys tonight, but the drummer and guitarist can't make it. So, I'm back to writing some more. My day tomorrow is pretty full, but I will have some more library time on Friday . . . I've got nothing better to do. My work is a demanding mistress. And although women may leave you when you treat them with respect and dignity, but semantic theory doesn't. And it doesn't nag, either.

Apparently Thena thought my thoughtful and carefully worded argument in favor of the 'life of the mind' the other day was "boring." So, for her benefit, I have re-phrased the point in a less substantial way. Here goes:

I rock, you don't. I'm smart, you're dumb.

Q. E. D., mothafuckaz!

I've never been a "song" person, I've always been an album person. Anyone can write a catchy tune, but to make a great album takes vision, dedication and 10-12 times the musical talent. What follows is a list of the music I have on my mp3 player today, each (for the most part) whole albums:

Jesus and Mary Chain, "Singles 1981-1994"
Neil Young, "Everybody Knows this is Nowhere"
Bikini Kill, "Pussywhipped"
Dinosaur Jr., "Bug"
Faith No More, "A Fools Small Victory" (rarities collection)
Celtic Frost, "Parched with Thirst Am I and Dying"
Mazzy Star, "So Tonight that I May See"
B. B. King, "Why I Sing the Blues"
Helmet, "Betty"
Brujeria, "Marijuana"
Life of Agony, "River Runs Red"
Tori Amos, "Under the Pink"
They Might Be Giants, s/t (the so-called Pink Album)
Dead Kennedy's, "In God We Trust, Inc." and "Plastic Surgery Disaster"

People are so funny sometimes. They get immersed in their little corner of the world and tend to reify it, and to inflate its importance in their minds, until nothing else matters but their own sophomoric scribblings and unimportant careers. They avoid and downplay everything outside of their little bubble because otherwise they might have to wake up, to realize their way of life is not the 'only game in town,' and to come face-to-face with the meaninglessness of their own existence.

Let me draw from an example. When I first moved to Tampa, I used to live with a business major. He was a cool dude, relatively easy to get along with and reasonably tolerant of others, except where it came to his academic field. Business was god: all else was meaningless (as if reinforcing this bullshit economic structure was ethical, much less worthy of anything less than scorn). He used to tell me that I 'lived in the clouds,' and would argue that there was nothing gained--much less anything valuable--to what amounts to knowledge as an end in itself, or of expanding one's mind, or of the understanding of alternative viewpoints. Further, he would claim that his undergraduate business courses were harder than my graduate courses in philosophy. He had taken Intro to Philosophy and had earned a 'B,' which he used as evidence (albeit, slim and dubious) to support his claim.

Now, on prima facie grounds alone, his claim was false. With very few exceptions, graduate courses are more difficult than undergraduate courses, regardless of the field. But moreso, philosophy courses--even on the undergraduate or Introductory level--are no cakewalk (especially the courses I teach, although I try to make them "fun" as a modest trade-off). Historically I have noticed that some of my students have a very difficult time abstracting from their own practical experience and seeing patterns, or nurturing the ability to grapple with the conceptual. Now, I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with those who seek more practical pursuits: we need dog catchers, street sweepers and used car salesmen, too. But the hostility towards those that can and do think on a higher and deeper level is more often than not present in these types. I would argue that this is a mistake, or at least rests upon a misunderstanding. Many make fun of what they cannot understand, or perhaps for what they do not have ability.

Getting back to the point: authenticity is not an easy thing to come by. It requires scrutinizing oneself and one's goals and ambitions, challenging the very premises upon which we operate in our day-to-day lives. It requires struggling to overcome those tautological and cliche half-truths we learned on the knee of parent and priest. Heidegger's word for authenticity was Eigenlichkeit, or literally "enownment." He meant it as the ability to take re-claim oneself from the controlling influence of the everydayness in which we are trapped, and to resist the temptation to social leveling ("falling" into "the They," as he phrases it); or, more simply put: the ability to take oneself back. It's always much easier to 'go with the flow,' to sedate oneself with drugs and alcohol, to perform average, monotonous and mediocre jobs. I found this to be a major point of divergence with my ex: she says I'm "too serious," and she's right. She's much happier living a common existence with very everyday dreams and goals, and she has now found someone who can provide that (and more power to her); I could not provide that, no matter how hard I tried. Nor would I want to. She has realized she is much happier by adopting the customs and traditions of bourgeois society, and without having to so much as think about losing herself in the process; she is in many ways now becoming Emma Bovary.

So, to those who would vilify the academic life and its pursuits, and the very process of criticism itself (as if nothing productive would be wrought from the process of challenging the bullshit we're all spoon-fed) I would encourage you to re-consider. The benefits will be paid in terms of one's own personal development and also in a greater social flourishing. And if not, I hope you're happy with Brittany Spears, American Idol re-runs and President Jeb Bush in 2008. I know I'm not.

As the great critic Chuck D. once said, "don't believe the hype."

"It is not a good, if you are not looking good
This is the best party that I've ever been to
Today I asked for a god to pour some wine in my eyes
Today I asked for someone to shake some salt on my life

"Look! Everything's spinning
We're on the ground
Never cheer before you know who's winning
Don't make a sound

"Sniff the glass and let it roll around on your tongue
Let me introduce you to someone before the party is done
Someone to look to in need or in want or in war
If you give him everything, he may give you even more

"This is the best party I've ever been to
Don't let me die with that silly look in my eyes"

[The following is a "stream-of-consiousness" type account of some thoughts I had, trying to organize my day, between waking up at 8:00 AM and leaving the house at 10:50 AM]

Coffee. Now. (8:01 AM)

The sheer joy of the morning's first cigarette. I'm gonna miss that. (8:15 AM)

"Actions speak louder than words" And your actions speak volumes. I asked you not to be mean, and you agreed. Then, within 24 hours, you're posting nonsense about me? Is a little consistency too much to ask for? (Your hypocracy, both as a reason and an excuse) If this is the way I'm gonna be treated, next time you need help you might want to ask someone else. (8:22 AM)

Today I have off today. I technically had Tuesday off, but I went in anyway; so today is my first actual day off this week. I have lots to do. Here is a reproduction of my "to do" list:

get oil changed
library
eat
read Veblen ("Theory of the Leisure Class" and corresponding secondary literature)
write (semantic normativity in Wittgenstein's PI)
make my enemies suffer
drink beer (Copper Top, and then Cocoanut Bay tonight)
re-think my work space, and move things around accordingly.
laundry
dishes
store (coffee, candles, binder clips)
return Roger's journal
mail Best Buy rebates
(8:30-9:15 AM)

Fun Philosophy Tidbit: Did you know that Marx never used the term "false-consciousness?" It has been used by more contemporary Marxists to describe the class-counsciousness of the bourgeoise, but the only occurence of the term in the 50-volume Collected Writings is in a letter written by Engels (in Vol. 12). (8:35 AM)

All those churches in Alabama were burned down by a theatre major? (8:41 AM)

"Information wants to be free" -Miles O'Brien, CNN Anchor and NASA correspondent (8:49 AM)

Amy Jean (9:06 AM)

Which books do I really need to take with me today? (9:10 AM)

"First I felt rage, followed by the urge to throw up." Inconsistencies? (9:25 AM)

How to read TLP 6.4-6.421: language, logic and norms (9:41 AM)

How is it possible that the NYSE can be publicly traded on the NYSE? (9:49 AM)

Shave the beard? (9:52 AM)

A remake of "The Shaggy Dog" starring Tim Allen and Robert Downey Jr. What are these movie executives thinking? (9:56 AM)

"How many of you have children in this illegal and immoral war . . . the blood is on your hands . . ." Right on, brother! (10:02 AM)

Good morning email (10:10 AM)

R.I.P., Prof. Willis Truitt, Ph.D. The Florida sun has just dimmed a little. (10:27 AM)

Women with Rhythm (10:39 AM)

Outta here . . . (10:50 AM)

Gotta love people who only want you around when they need a quick $20, or can get a free lunch.

"All these petty bourgeois are of the same species. An imbecilic dignity is imposed on them, they castrate themselves, the real purpose of their work escapes them, and they wake up at fifty just in time to watch themselves die."
-Jean Paul Sartre

Driving home today I was inexplicably, completely and deliriously happy. (Sorry for the homeoteleuton)

Why? Well, I did have a very productive day. I got my car fixed (an unfortunate ignition problem). I also--finally--got the car put in my name, so it's legally mine now.

I went in to deal with a health problem today, which was long overdue.

I even went into work--even though I was off--to help some students who were having some problems. (My colleagues at my degree-granting institution often make fun of the amount of extra time I spend with my students; I just consider it "earning my keep." I love my job.)

Not to mention: I will be beginning to lecture on Veblen's "Theory of the Leisure Class" tomorrow, a book I've adored since I bought my first dog-eared copy from a used book store in New Hampshire at the age of 16.

Also, on the personal side, I got to spend time with two wonderful people in the last 24 hours; one of whom I (reluctantly, and without reason) still love, and the other someone I think I could love.

Or, perhaps it's because Scrubs is on tonight, as is Boston Legal. Both of these shows make me giggle like a schoolgirl.

I don't know why I was so happy. But there I was, driving north on I-275 and listening to Faith No More, smiling. Giddy. Perhaps the most happy I've been in a few months.

To quote the great philosopher Ice Cube: "Today I didn't even have to use my A.K. / I got to say it was a good day."

Talking philosophy at Denny's in the middle of the night: the very definition of serendipity.

If and when . . .?

Sometimes I wonder how some people can consider "love" nothing more than just keeping someone around when you need something. Isn't love about sacrifice?--or, is it taking whatever you can and hitting the road. Compassion?--or is it rubbing your own happiness in my miserable face. Forgiveness?--or, is it when no amount of apologizing will change anything. Commitment?--only when its convenient. Dropping everything and be there for someone when they need it? --Or if all I'm good for is a quick $20.

I'm convinced that some people cannot love because they are too engrossed in themselves, in getting their drugs or their sex, or whatever it is that one wants. Anything but me, it seems.

The past few days have been good ones. I saw the ex a few times, but seeing her is not getting me down anymore. We're "friendly" now, sort of--well, we're civil. I'm still very mad at her, and she still thinks little of me and the value of my love, but so it is. I still love her and still care about her feelings and well-being, regardless what she thinks of me.

I went out Thursday night. I met a girl, but I think I've already screwed it up. (She sent me a text message that she cannot call because her phone is not letting her send/receive calls. Hmmm . . . ) I was hung-over Friday and thus didn't get much done yesterday. So, that means it today and tomorrow must be work days. I have papers to grade, and I want to finish reading that damn Kenny book on Wittgenstein. I'm skipping over the Tractatus commentary, and moving right to the middle and later works. Gotta read the Manifesto too ("Let the ruling classes tremble at a Communist revolution. The proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win.")

I need to write over the next few weeks. I'm only teaching two days per week for the next two weeks, so I hope to have a good amount of work time in order to show drafts of these two chapters to my co-chairs soon. What I have written is extraordinarily rough right now. No flow, no continuity, just some scattered thoughts. I figure if I can get 20-25 pages of ruminations, that should become a chapter pretty easily by the very process of cleaning it up and polishing it.

The last few days have been good ones. Here's to the next few days being good ones as well. Cheers!