And my first week of reading A History of Philosophy has been a successful one. I set a goal of reading 15 minutes per day, and I have met or exceeded that goal. I've encountered some ideas that I found interesting, and I've closed the book and thought on some of the things it had to say for several meditative minutes. And I'm almost up to page 100, which sounds paltry, I'm sure, but (1) 千里之行，始於足下, and (2) I have finished reading The Bible, Remembrance of Things Past, all 27 of Edgar Rice Burroughs's Tarzan novels, The Lord of the Rings Tetralogy (yes--I mean, come on now) . . . etcetera etcetera etcetera. And besides, (3) 100 is damned close to 2% of 5,344, and if you don't think 2% counts, then go ahead and keep your money in your shitty local bank.
Ahem.
But I fell behind in the blog-keeping almost immediately. And then it became a THING. Like an, "Oh, I should do that" THING. And of course, the more I thought that way the less I was inclined to do it, thus making it more difficult to accomplish. And this morning I thought, "Who cares about that shit anyway?" And deleted the thing.
I have been guilty of keeping multiple blogs in the past, but I think that from here on out it's just going to be Songs of Innocence & Experience. I think it suits me. 1
Which kind of relates to the bigger picture for me. I'm at an age wherein I simultaneously regret not having done many things whilst "realizing" that most of the things that we do in this life are pointless. The latter thought jabs me on a regular basis . . . especially when I am watching football games. On the one hand, I enjoy watching football. There is usually a moment or two during the game wherein I will say, "Oh!" or something equally profound as I marvel at a human being's ability to do a feat which requires astounding athletic ability. But at the same time I am never far from thinking, "There are 22 grown ass men running up and down a field. That's what they do. They spend a great deal of their lives preparing to run up and down a field, too." I think that's why it really irritates me when the players do their little victory dances or their I Tackled That Mother Fucker roars, etc. I mean, for fuck's sake . . . it's not that big of a deal, son. And the fact that you think it IS a big deal makes it even harder for me to enjoy this thing.
But what isn't like that? Remember the Steve Martin song . . . "I see people getting up at 7:30 every morning, going to the drugstore to sell Flair pens . . . . "
Well.
I am reminded of a bit from a Thomas Henry Huxley essay that I read some time ago, and which continues to echo in my head on occasion:
"Do what you can to do what you ought, and leave hoping and fearing alone." ("Universities: Actual and Ideal" 1874)
And I think the same thing applies to pleasure. Do what you like to do, and leave thinking about it alone. Assuming that what you like to do isn't harmful to flowers and other living things, of course. But this propensity in me to analyze and weigh . . . well, fuck that shit, man. Sometimes you should just listen to Sonic Youth and enjoy it.
So on occasion ahmo write about A History of Philosophy here, and leave hoping and fearing alone.
I kind of want to go read some more Thomas Henry Huxley right now, too. That guy kicks ass.
1 With the exception of my Tumblr version of Songs of Innocence & Experience . . . but that's because they let me post songs, and Blogger makes me do an awkward looking link thing, like this:
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