Aesthetic Materialism

Two sets (or ideas, or principles, or entities, or categories, etc.) are considered properly dichotomous iff: 1. They are mutually exclusive - that is, there is absolutely no overlap between them, and 2. Together, they are exhaustive - that is, there is nothing that is outside both of them. For example, within the Real numbers, "rational" and "irrational" form a proper dichotomy.  That means that every Real number is either rational or irrational, and no number is both rational and irrational. For a counterexample, within the natural numbers, "prime" and "composite" are not a proper dichotomy.  This is because the number 1 is neither prime nor composite. Notice, also, that dichotomies may be proper in one context, but not in another.  For instance, in the set of integers, "even" and "odd" form a proper dichotomy.  But in the realm of Real numbers, they don't.  (Pi, for instance, is neither odd nor even.)  Many of the old ...

Knowledge is a habit that works.  Knowledge is skill, practice. Anything that can be learned is knowledge.  Is this definitive?  Or are there knowledges that one doesn't need to learn - things that one "just knows"?  

Artistic modernism can be understood as the belief that artists should be creative, and the more creative, the more original their work is, the more artistic it is; if possible, art should be radically original, radically creative.  This is in contrast, of course, to the notion that art should be traditional, somehow based or grounded on tradition. Coming up with new ideas, of course, is difficult.  One can easily fall into despair, and whine that all of the ideas have already been had.  Thus modernism necessarily implies a kind of hope - a hope that new ideas are indeed possible. Related to this is social modernism, which is the belief that one can structure social relationships without grounding these social relationships in tradition.  You can, as it were, invent your social relationships.  Love, for instance: you can invent love. Perhaps, fundamentally, modernism is an enthusiasm, a kind of energy.  All of this is, of course, questionable.  But to...

It is often claimed that the self does not exist, that there is no such thing as a self, anywhere. But what can possibly be meant by such a claim? Suppose that I were to say, "There is no such thing as a sklorb." And someone asked me, "What is a sklorb?" And I replied, "That's just it: sklorbs don't exist!" And they said, "Yes, but what do you mean by 'sklorb?'"  And I responded, "The very concept of sklorb is meaningless." Them: "Then what are you talking about, when you claim that sklorb doesn't exist?" Me: "Nothing." Them: "Then why did you say it?" Me: "No reason."     Jill: The word "self" must mean something, in order for the sentence "There is no self" to be meaningful at all, in just the same way that the word "egg" must be meaningful, for the grocer to meaningfully inform me that they're all out of eggs.  Bill: I mean... what? Jill: Wh...

Start at the Beginning Previous Chapter: Day 1 Part 1 A horrifying leech-like creature, with inward curling teeth, suddenly lunges at you.   You are "the man in the black hat" - except you're not wearing a hat now.   You're chained to a rock by thick shackles.  But there's something brushing against your face - like a small flying insect - but it's glowing.  A firefly?  You toss your head, knocking it away.  Suddenly something glimmers: falling seemingly out of nowhere, something gold-metallic is there, sticking up out of the dirt.   The leech-like thing is coming closer.   With effort, you kick the metal thing up onto your own chest.  Now you can see what it is: a key!   The leech-thing jumps on your chest, right next to the key, and starts sucking your blood. You shudder at the vile creature that is draining you in disgust, but then manage to bring your face even closer to the small, horrifying monster.  Y...

    Previous chapter: Introduction Cut scene: THE BLOOD CRIES OUT FROM THE EARTH     Long establishing shot of an ancient desert road at night.  [Modeled on the Negev.]  Wind.  A distant dust cloud building as if in slow motion.  Soft, scattered Morricone-ish music gradually builds out of the near-silence, eerie, ominous, foreboding.     Enter, from the right side of the screen, a shadowed figure wearing a dark red cape, cowl shadowing his face, furtively running from an ancient desert city.  All business, he hurries off of the dusty road, checks to see that no one is following him, and climbs his way down a rocky embankment to the valley below.  In this area, the cracked earth has lost its golden color and is a dull ashen gray.  Hunching over, he produces a bladder from within the robe, pulls out the cloth stopper, takes a moment to waft the opening under his nose and savor the aroma, and then quick ...