Your fallacious reasoning makes mine look good.


Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Beating my head against a wall...

I am so constantly, and tirelessly amazed at the insanity of some particular individuals. Often times, I feel I might very well be arguing with limited mental capacities. So often, it is the case that I am pouring my total effort in to reason and it is as though every single statement I make, exists in isolation, separate from the context, and independent of statements which precede it.

It is surreal. It is as though they are entirely aware of what the truth of the matter is, but do everything they can to evade it.

Recently, the heat as made me tired. So, rather than argue I will just stare, in my little stupor, as they say words that are supposed to hold such profundity but ultimately exist in isolation from any kind of profound truth,

"What is the mathematical formula for math itself?"

"Prove that beauty exists"

"Explain to me how a catapiller becomes a butter fly," My dad says. "If I can't, does this mean there is no explanation?" I wonder to him, out loud. "No, it is just inexperience, with your soul," he responds. A sense of foreboding washes over me. If it makes any sense to say so, my sense of self just sank a little bit, and I do believe the world just got a little darker looking.

Initially, I go in to the conversation, alert, feeling good. Then, about an hour later, I will feel the wear of the conversation. Nothing is getting accomplished, no one is gaining understanding. It's a chance for him to practice his defenses against reason and my chance to practice getting rhetorically defeated by insanity.

I woke up just a few minutes prior to ten in the AM. I grab the coffee cup from the day before sitting on my desk, and flip on my Mr.Coffee cup warmer. I then head downstairs. Every two or three steps the familiar jingle of the television turning on and off can be heard. "It sounds broken," I think to myself. I get downstairs and see my girlfriend's father sitting on the couch, just staring at a blank screen. He is holding the remote and is persistent in his efforts to persuade it to stay on. "It is most definitely broken," state my impulses. Wanting to verify, I ask "Is the TV not working?"

"Sometimes, it just needs a little time to warm up before it turns on."
"Looks broken."

He mumbles something, completely and totally incomprehensible. He doesn't like when people state the horrible truths. With this individual, things just seem to work better when only nice things are said. The TV being broken, and thus stating out loud that it is broken, is just the kind of thing that breaks TVs.


B. von Traven said...

Well, dude, believe it or not, I only just discovered your blog. And a fine thing it is. ¶ What you've written here is quite good, I think. You managed to fool me into supposing I was deep into a novel at the end. (This could, however, reflect my mental retardation.) ¶ You reminded me of some old Woody Allen movie, showing the young Woody at the dinner table, in pain, listening to his crazy parents and his farting and sneezing Uncle Abe. Among the intelligent and inactive, it is thus: when very young, one feels only victimhood. One has no hope of mastering this universe. There is a kind of acceptance. ¶ Yes, but one slowly recognizes that there are others like oneself. They are writers, artists, nerds, obsessives, philosophers, coat-checkers. Is this recognition the basis of hope? Of Optimism? ¶ Hard to say. ¶ What about "The Girl"? She is smart. She knows that you are Woody, now age 21. She sees you watching, shy, a bit anxious. She is aware of your calm and customary distress. ¶ Does she provide no commentary? No support? No "us against the world"? ¶ Is she a Woodette? A Woodchen? (I.e., a female Woody.) ¶ Inquiring minds want to know. ¶ BTW: do you have any idea how gorgeous she is? Don't be a dope, dude.

Bohrstein said...

She has her moments of Woodetteness. She'll often tell me that she can't read my mind though.

This unfortunately leaves her with the rest of the crowd; when I gotta stand up for myself anyways. She is a great companion nonetheless. I ain't no dope.

Often though, she takes to the defense of the world, protecting me from isolation since I can usually bring a fury that is bias and unfair. So, she is good in the sense that she does not let me be bad - I guess you could say she keeps me honest.

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