Another Philosopher’s Day

 

 

Another Philosopher’s Day[1]

 

Wake from a dream (that might be reality)

Penetrate the veil of perception

Check that one is not a brain in a vat

Receive the given

Will one’s right arm to rise

Harness mind to body by tinkering with the pineal

Quantify over a few numbers

Imbibe some wisdom

Hand over some slabs

Play a language game

Follow a signpost

Go to the marketplace

Speak a private language

Name a sense datum

Drop a note to a subsistent entity

Scan a Mind

Overcome some unnecessary obstacles

Engage in a lunchtime dialogue with Hylas

Intuit a moral truth or two

Introspect one’s qualia

Infer another mind

Visit a Cartesian theater

Imagine a chiliagon

Try to do the impossible

Universalize a maxim

Distribute some justice

Solve a mystery

Sense a reference

Bind a variable

Satisfy a predicate

Dogmatically slumber

 

 

[1] With thanks to Anthony Kenny for showing me the way.

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9 replies
  1. jgkess@cfl.rr.com
    jgkess@cfl.rr.com says:

    Day in the life of a non-philosopher. Light as the morning dew/ Cheerful of waking/ let the day come anew/ Eager of purpose/ on labor intent/ wondrous is the world/ so sweetly content/ How joy thus abounds/ in the vineyards of work /let not mere sages/distract from the dirt. Ahh, if only it were so.

    Reply
  2. jgkess@cfl.rr.com
    jgkess@cfl.rr.com says:

    I was hoping that the tropical storm would wash out the annual electronic dance concert at Tinker Field, but it’s not to be so. Another three days and nights of this window- rattling crap. Funny how the sound systems are always turned towards the poorer parts of town. Philosophy will have no purchase in this week-end of discontent—am, however. well-stocked with ear-plugs and other sorts of palliatives, over-the-counter-wise.

    Reply
  3. jgkess@cfl.rr.com
    jgkess@cfl.rr.com says:

    On being trapped in an elevator between the 18’th and 19’th floor of an Orlando high-rise. I could tell immediately that there was something wrong with this contraption as soon as the door closed and started moving. It started creaking and wobbling,— then came to an abrupt—very abrupt— halt. Claustrophobia isn’t much my bag, but after a while I definitely felt it starting to creep in. I pushed the “alarm” button and, lo, after ten minutes maintenance types came a’scrambling. What with all their ingenious techniques, they still couldn’t pry the doors open. The Fire Department had to be called and after 45 worrisome minutes they managed to get the doors open and drag me through a two-foot opening at the top more or less between floors. Proud, in retrospect, as I prefer to believe it, to have disported myself so admirably—though others say I came out looking like a drowned rat.

    Reply
    • Colin McGinn
      Colin McGinn says:

      Perhaps like being trapped in Plato’s cave for a couple of hours–a drastic reduction of vista. The philosopher must try to exit his cave at least once a day lest he be consumed by shadows.

      Reply

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