On the Nature of Cool

Being cool is a talent that begins where talent ends. Yet we find ourselves surrounded these days by those who seek to perfect the art of cool with no other talent. Such a pursuit can only be pretense, so those that do succeed must have a talent for mimicry. These we celebrate as actors, and we do not begrudge them their coolness - it is merely an occupational hazard.

Crouching T-Rex, Hidden Raptor

I'd always thought that if I had an intelligent, erudite roommate, we'd either get nothing done, or everything. But the frequency of my bedtime thoughts suggests that we would just keep each other awake with our epiphanies until we both died from lack of sleep.

I've had trouble sleeping pretty much all my life. But what was it that used to occupy my thoughts? There seems to be a K-T boundary, maybe even a Mohorovičić discontinuity, between my present and past selves, somewhere around 3 years ago (ironically these geological terms come from before that boundary, sometime in primary school when I used to love dinosaurs (and yes, that is K for Kretaceous)). I no longer know him. But is he buried and fossilised inside my mind, or was I within his, waiting to be exposed by the erosive processes of time?

How to Philosophise with a Tottenhammer, Part One

Some time back, I failed to win a debate despite having superior intellect and knowledge of the subject matter. It happened one night as I was watching an Arsenal match alone in the lounge. An Indian guy in a Spurs jersey joined me after a bit, asking me how the game had been so far. I said I'd just got here myself, but that the passing didn't seem too fluid. This led to a long discussion of football in general. Somewhere along the way, I made a passing comment about how Arsenal had been undercompensated for the sale of Fàbregas, arguably the world's third best midfielder. Which sparked the debate, whether he was indeed the third best in the world.

The Meta-Post

It's been a while since my last post, during which much has happened, as is often the case when I'm not meditating on top of a mountain, seeking divine afflatus for my next post. Of course, all these happenings themselves serve as plentiful inspiration for contemplation and composition. What's been missing is the time to actually contemplate and compose. Now that it's the holidays, will that time finally be available? Possibly. These holidays mark a new phase for me, where I will focus on learning and thinking. Nonetheless, a new series of posts is in conception; has long been so in fact, but I finally feel ready to tackle them (a few months from now).

This new series will build quasi-hierarchically, and topics covered will include alphabets, words, names, languages, stories, and mind. The observant reader has already realised that this list strongly resembles the content in Reflexive Reflections. Indeed, the ideas expounded there will be present, implicitly or explicitly, in this series. Perhaps some of them will be elaborated. Perhaps others will be refuted. There is still a process of exploration due to take place. But a coherent school of thought and space of ideas will be mapped out.

Reflexive Reflections

There is no better place to begin than with this self-referential sentence. Yes, like so. After all, all things in this universe (and all universes!) are connected, so any place is as good as another. To be is to relate. Every single thing is linked to other things which in turn connect to yet others, forming networks that also connect to other networks, coalescing into a single network of everything, such that one quickly snowballs into infinity. What happens to one thing sends waves that ripple through infinity. One cannot contemplate something without taking into account its place in the network of things; to fully contemplate something is to contemplate infinity. And to contemplate infinity is to contemplate unity.

Thou Art

I sat next to some interesting people in the cinema the other day. One was a culturally knowledgeable woman, who was apparently trying to educate her teenage daughter. She commented on the songs playing before the advertisements started, the meaning and relevance of the French song playing during an advertisement, and then during the trailer for Fast & Furious 5 about the potential of film as an art form and how it is wasted on car chases. As if well-choreographed car chases are not a kinetic art form.

7HU5 13375P4K3 24R47HU57R4

The grand narrative of progress is shoved in our faces wherever we go. Since consciousness is bound to the illusory arrow of time granted us by thermodynamic entropy, the existence of psychological phenomena such as memory and (apparent) free will leads us to adopt that grand narrative. That presupposes a certain principle that guides free will toward progress, but the grand narrative itself reinforces the existence of that principle in a positive feedback loop. Such a tripartite Escherian structure cannot exist without any pillar; the grand narrative is necessary to justify der Wille zur Macht, that driving force of life, and der Wille is required for progress.

Beware the Ideas of March

Un Petit Chinoiserie

If a Chinese man is trapped in a Chinese Room, how does he convince the outside world there is a Chinese man in the Chinese Room? 

Are matters complicated if the Chinese man is himself a Chinese Room?

Which contains a Chinese man/Room, Matryoshka-style ad infinitum?

Should he see the psychiatrist who tends to bipolar bears? 

If so, where can said psychiatrist be found, the Equator?