PART 4: Anger and Alternatives,
This book makes me angry.
To be Crystal Clear: I am angry at the book and the ideas and the morality it espouses (what the book presents as virtuous or not), I am not angry at people, I wish all people happy lives full of art and failure and meaning. You are beautiful, make the world a better place. My anger is personal, and subjective, and says more about me than it does about the book. What I care about mapped onto what I think the book cares about.
And as an aside: Thank you for this opportunity. Sincerely. It is rare that I feel anger, and it is even rarer that I feel safe sharing it (especially on the internet). I realize that this might surprise some, given my emotionally charged avalanche of commentary with the tone of a fervent tweet, But I engage rarely and carefully. I have real skin in the game, That's my name up there. Hi.
Also, REDACTED mentioned during the livestream that an alternative philosophy would be more interesting than a takedown (ie, instead of nitpicking the ideas, make something). SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT. Deal. Let's do that also, Let's make something.
Two parts then:
1. Why does this book make me angry?
2. REDACTED's Theory of Dualistic Metaphysics
*Or: How Two Connected Definable Concepts are Better than One Undefineable Concept*
Ok, let's get the uncomfortable part over with. The Angry Part.
## Content Warning ##
This is personal and emotional, feel free to skip it if yuo are not up for that. I mention abuse and when it comes to my strong feelings about the book, the gloves come off. I am not delicate and the reaction is far more emotional than logical. It gets shouty.
## Content Warning ##
Ok, here we go.
The main reason that it makes me angry is that I have a lot in common with this book and its protagonist/villain, so it pushes my buttons more than it would others,
I grew up in Montana, and I went to college at REDACTED, the same school Persig taught at (though after he was teaching there). I started in Philosophy, then switched to Religious Studies, then Engineering, then Computer Science, then I dropped out to work in the first dotcom boom. As I progressed through majors, I kept taking Philosophy and Religious Studies and Engineering classes because I loved ideas.
During this period in my life, I was an insufferable intellectual pedant. My sister sent me a poem during this period because it reminded her of me. It is called "Pedantic Literalist" by Marianne Moore. It is a short and accurate depiction of the person I was.
Here it is: https://www.poetrynook.com/poem/pedantic-literalist
That was me.
I wasn't lonely though, I had friends and relationships and hobbies and adventures and fun times. I was blithely unaware of how far up my own ass I was. I would get into a discussion with a stranger about something and it would often end with them furious at me, and I was baffled. I remember one time when I got into a discussion about rehabilitative vs punitive justice with a nice friend of a friend and after about an hour she had to leave because she was so mad at me. This shocked me, I was having a good time. I was oblivious to the state of mind of other people. I didn't really listen to them. I would lecture to them, My ideas were better ideas. I was relentlessly interruptive.
I was convinced that I was the smartest person in the room. Every time Phaedrus' towering intellect is described by Persig, it pushes my button. If it is framed as a failure, that's a TOTALLY different experience, because it IS a failure. But if it is framed as virtuous (which it is in the book), nah man. It took me years to recover from that insufferable superiority,
By spring semester of my Junior Year, I had lost all respect for academia. All the stuff in the book about the frustrations of academia, could have been my biography. That bit in the book where he writes out his gleeful contempt for esthetics? I did that too. My last philosophy class was Philosophy of Art, and my final act of contempt was to scribble curt responses to each of the essay questions, fold the exam paper into an origami cube, and drop it on the professor's desk like a mic-drop. And then everyone clapped. r/thathappened...
Lol, no. Nobody gave a shit. They didn't care, it was a petulant and disrespectful act by a Pedantic Literalist. This is one of my big shameful Failures (see my Part III essay about Stuckness for more on that). My professor was a nice guy who was paid a pittance to teach children like me to give a shit about ideas. He did not deserve my disrespect. I learned a lot from this failure, and my guess is that he doesn't remember it at all.
The book frames this insulting tantrum as a hilarious takedown, It's just mean. Button pushed.
After the dotcom boom, I couldn't find work, and I went back to REDACTED to start over, go back to school, try to recover some of my karmic debt. I ended up working in Neuroscience and then Research Computing at REDACTED for ten years, some of the best years of my life. I worked with teachers and students. I got deep into the complicated world of post-secondary education, and the amazing people who choose to teach in spite of the soul crushing bureaucracy. Every time Phaedrus "dunks" on academia with his naive reductive takes, Button Is Pushed.
I met my wife, had two kids, figured out how to adult and be responsible for other people. I went to therapy. I went to work on myself. I came out of this period a completely different person. I still loved ideas (and still do!) but my values were totally overhauled. I cared about other people. I knew that I was more often wrong than right. I learned the inestimable value of Failure. I was a genuinely better person.
I have continued this work of self-knowledge and self-improvement to this day. It is my life's work, it is complicated and messy, punctuated by Failure and beauty. This work is never done. My philosophy of life is a side-effect of this work, not its goal. My goal is to know myself better so as to be a good person ON THE SIDE OF ART. Everything else is a side-effect of that. The casual dismissal of the hard work of being a responsible adult... Button FUCKING Pushed.
It makes me angry that Persig has it backwards. Understanding and goodness don't come from an undefineable mystical concept. Working towards being a better person ON THE SIDE OF ART will. You don't want to go farther up your own arrogant metaphysical ass, you want to understand why that is so important to you in the first place. The answer is inside you, and it's not metaphysical.
It makes me angry that Persig focuses on the primacy of an undefinable Quality instead of the hard work of Failing and Care and talking to other people. Learning from other people. You don't need to be a motorcycle expert. We should celebrate the expertise of others, you don't have to do it alone. It doesn't make you a low Quality person (whatever the fuck that means). Different people are good at different things. when we celebrate the expertise of others, we can cooperate, we can work together. We can ask for help. We can be good people ON THE SIDE OF ART. Share your pain (consensually). Listen to other people. You are more wrong about the world than you think. None of this is called out in this book. The Guiding Principal of this book, the holiest of holies, is undefinable an unactionable. It means everything and nothing. It does not help you to learn about yourself or communicate with others.
It makes me angry because this is NOT a story of philosophical discovery buried in a dysfunctional family road trip. It is a how-to guide for Pedantic Intellectual Assholes to excuse their awful behavior because it is in the service of a greater good. They can declare literally anything to be Quality because it is undefinable. It is your fault if you "don't get it" because "everyone can detect Quality." They can justify any of your behaviors or ideas or belongings as being "low Quality", and if they are charismatic and convincing enough, it is true! There is NO WAY for you to determine what does or does not have Quality because it is undefinable. But it is The Most Important Thing, it underlies everything, it's more important than feelings or desires or suffering. It is Quality. It is all that matters. It is the ultimate abusive tool and it. makes. me. angry because it comes disguised in good vibes and impressive intellectual bullshit. Lots of "mic drop" moments and dunking on "low Quality" things like people who live in cities or "squares" or National Parks. FUCK YOU AND YOUR TRASH BOOK.
OK! Ok. ok. that is enough anger for 2022.
I think I have made my point. I think I got it all out. This is a weird thing to do in public. I hope it didn't bother anyone too much.
To re-clarify: This is my subjective experience. My emotional response based on my unique path through life. My Failures, and my attention, and my strong opinions. It may not be yours, and I do celebrate that. If it brings you joy and clarity, there are few finer things in life. Please, continue.
I have to take a break now though, I will present my Alternative later. Probably at ~4:30AM EST if it follows the same pattern as the last few.
To be Crystal Clear: I am angry at the book and the ideas and the morality it espouses (what the book presents as virtuous or not), I am not angry at people, I wish all people happy lives full of art and failure and meaning. You are beautiful, make the world a better place. My anger is personal, and subjective, and says more about me than it does about the book. What I care about mapped onto what I think the book cares about.
And as an aside: Thank you for this opportunity. Sincerely. It is rare that I feel anger, and it is even rarer that I feel safe sharing it (especially on the internet). I realize that this might surprise some, given my emotionally charged avalanche of commentary with the tone of a fervent tweet, But I engage rarely and carefully. I have real skin in the game, That's my name up there. Hi.
Also, REDACTED mentioned during the livestream that an alternative philosophy would be more interesting than a takedown (ie, instead of nitpicking the ideas, make something). SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT. Deal. Let's do that also, Let's make something.
Two parts then:
1. Why does this book make me angry?
2. REDACTED's Theory of Dualistic Metaphysics
*Or: How Two Connected Definable Concepts are Better than One Undefineable Concept*
Ok, let's get the uncomfortable part over with. The Angry Part.
## Content Warning ##
This is personal and emotional, feel free to skip it if yuo are not up for that. I mention abuse and when it comes to my strong feelings about the book, the gloves come off. I am not delicate and the reaction is far more emotional than logical. It gets shouty.
## Content Warning ##
Ok, here we go.
The main reason that it makes me angry is that I have a lot in common with this book and its protagonist/villain, so it pushes my buttons more than it would others,
I grew up in Montana, and I went to college at REDACTED, the same school Persig taught at (though after he was teaching there). I started in Philosophy, then switched to Religious Studies, then Engineering, then Computer Science, then I dropped out to work in the first dotcom boom. As I progressed through majors, I kept taking Philosophy and Religious Studies and Engineering classes because I loved ideas.
During this period in my life, I was an insufferable intellectual pedant. My sister sent me a poem during this period because it reminded her of me. It is called "Pedantic Literalist" by Marianne Moore. It is a short and accurate depiction of the person I was.
Here it is: https://www.poetrynook.com/poem/pedantic-literalist
That was me.
I wasn't lonely though, I had friends and relationships and hobbies and adventures and fun times. I was blithely unaware of how far up my own ass I was. I would get into a discussion with a stranger about something and it would often end with them furious at me, and I was baffled. I remember one time when I got into a discussion about rehabilitative vs punitive justice with a nice friend of a friend and after about an hour she had to leave because she was so mad at me. This shocked me, I was having a good time. I was oblivious to the state of mind of other people. I didn't really listen to them. I would lecture to them, My ideas were better ideas. I was relentlessly interruptive.
I was convinced that I was the smartest person in the room. Every time Phaedrus' towering intellect is described by Persig, it pushes my button. If it is framed as a failure, that's a TOTALLY different experience, because it IS a failure. But if it is framed as virtuous (which it is in the book), nah man. It took me years to recover from that insufferable superiority,
By spring semester of my Junior Year, I had lost all respect for academia. All the stuff in the book about the frustrations of academia, could have been my biography. That bit in the book where he writes out his gleeful contempt for esthetics? I did that too. My last philosophy class was Philosophy of Art, and my final act of contempt was to scribble curt responses to each of the essay questions, fold the exam paper into an origami cube, and drop it on the professor's desk like a mic-drop. And then everyone clapped. r/thathappened...
Lol, no. Nobody gave a shit. They didn't care, it was a petulant and disrespectful act by a Pedantic Literalist. This is one of my big shameful Failures (see my Part III essay about Stuckness for more on that). My professor was a nice guy who was paid a pittance to teach children like me to give a shit about ideas. He did not deserve my disrespect. I learned a lot from this failure, and my guess is that he doesn't remember it at all.
The book frames this insulting tantrum as a hilarious takedown, It's just mean. Button pushed.
After the dotcom boom, I couldn't find work, and I went back to REDACTED to start over, go back to school, try to recover some of my karmic debt. I ended up working in Neuroscience and then Research Computing at REDACTED for ten years, some of the best years of my life. I worked with teachers and students. I got deep into the complicated world of post-secondary education, and the amazing people who choose to teach in spite of the soul crushing bureaucracy. Every time Phaedrus "dunks" on academia with his naive reductive takes, Button Is Pushed.
I met my wife, had two kids, figured out how to adult and be responsible for other people. I went to therapy. I went to work on myself. I came out of this period a completely different person. I still loved ideas (and still do!) but my values were totally overhauled. I cared about other people. I knew that I was more often wrong than right. I learned the inestimable value of Failure. I was a genuinely better person.
I have continued this work of self-knowledge and self-improvement to this day. It is my life's work, it is complicated and messy, punctuated by Failure and beauty. This work is never done. My philosophy of life is a side-effect of this work, not its goal. My goal is to know myself better so as to be a good person ON THE SIDE OF ART. Everything else is a side-effect of that. The casual dismissal of the hard work of being a responsible adult... Button FUCKING Pushed.
It makes me angry that Persig has it backwards. Understanding and goodness don't come from an undefineable mystical concept. Working towards being a better person ON THE SIDE OF ART will. You don't want to go farther up your own arrogant metaphysical ass, you want to understand why that is so important to you in the first place. The answer is inside you, and it's not metaphysical.
It makes me angry that Persig focuses on the primacy of an undefinable Quality instead of the hard work of Failing and Care and talking to other people. Learning from other people. You don't need to be a motorcycle expert. We should celebrate the expertise of others, you don't have to do it alone. It doesn't make you a low Quality person (whatever the fuck that means). Different people are good at different things. when we celebrate the expertise of others, we can cooperate, we can work together. We can ask for help. We can be good people ON THE SIDE OF ART. Share your pain (consensually). Listen to other people. You are more wrong about the world than you think. None of this is called out in this book. The Guiding Principal of this book, the holiest of holies, is undefinable an unactionable. It means everything and nothing. It does not help you to learn about yourself or communicate with others.
It makes me angry because this is NOT a story of philosophical discovery buried in a dysfunctional family road trip. It is a how-to guide for Pedantic Intellectual Assholes to excuse their awful behavior because it is in the service of a greater good. They can declare literally anything to be Quality because it is undefinable. It is your fault if you "don't get it" because "everyone can detect Quality." They can justify any of your behaviors or ideas or belongings as being "low Quality", and if they are charismatic and convincing enough, it is true! There is NO WAY for you to determine what does or does not have Quality because it is undefinable. But it is The Most Important Thing, it underlies everything, it's more important than feelings or desires or suffering. It is Quality. It is all that matters. It is the ultimate abusive tool and it. makes. me. angry because it comes disguised in good vibes and impressive intellectual bullshit. Lots of "mic drop" moments and dunking on "low Quality" things like people who live in cities or "squares" or National Parks. FUCK YOU AND YOUR TRASH BOOK.
OK! Ok. ok. that is enough anger for 2022.
I think I have made my point. I think I got it all out. This is a weird thing to do in public. I hope it didn't bother anyone too much.
To re-clarify: This is my subjective experience. My emotional response based on my unique path through life. My Failures, and my attention, and my strong opinions. It may not be yours, and I do celebrate that. If it brings you joy and clarity, there are few finer things in life. Please, continue.
I have to take a break now though, I will present my Alternative later. Probably at ~4:30AM EST if it follows the same pattern as the last few.
posted by he who seeks knowledge at 9:39 AM
4 comments
