Another Philosopher’s Day
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
How does one check that one is not a brain in a vat?
You would check whether you have received a bill for vat-related services. If not, you are not a brain in a vat, since no one would provide such services for free.
You mean that I have to PAY the mad scientist who removes my brain and puts it in a vat? That’s not fair!
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.
The philosopher’s day is quite agreeable–also not really so.
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.
At least you have a large vocabulary to keep you company.
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.
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.