Rough Theory

Theory In The Rough

Category Archives: Overheard

Street Corner Virtual Society

Going to the train station around midnight last night, I passed a frustrated man talking to someone on a public telephone on a major street. “Blog!” he was insisting, “No: blog! B – L – O – G! Blog! Look… it’s a kind of online diary, okay?!”

The Dark Side of Academic Life

A chance encounter in a coffee shop yesterday led to a discussion of the way in which personality and mood can be transformed by the process of socialisation into the academic profession. My friend commented that, when they started out, they felt enthusiastic about both their teaching and their work – possessed of a baseline optimism and idealism that, they felt, had been gradually eroded over the course of their graduate degree. As a symbol of this shift, they mentioned that their partner, noticing the darkward trend in their mood, had given them a Darth Vader action figure as a gift some months back:

So that was funny – and it stayed in its box for a while. But lately… You know… I have this Einstein figure that sits on my computer, and I’ve been thinking… I kind of want to, you know… take the Darth Vader figure out of its box, you know… and have it sort of kill off the Einstein…

So what do folks think: is the chalk mightier than the saber?

Einstein and Darth Vader action figures confront one another.

Veni… Veni…

Adam Roberts at The Valve is having fun with the marginal notes found in a copy of Caesar’s Gallic Wars. A sample:

…it is copiously annotated with the blue-ink marginalia of a previous owner of the book: a strong hand, indicative, I feel, of a forceful individuality. Speaking generally I love reading the annotation of previous readers in the second hand books I buy; any number of insights could be contained in the scribbles. And these marginalia are very nice.

A couple of the comments are nicely fatuous. For example: Caesar begins his account, as every schoolchild knows, with the statement that all Gaul is divided into three parts. This, together with ‘veni, vidi, vici’, is surely the most famous thing Caesar ever said. The Loeb left hand page gives us ‘Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres’. The right hand page gives us ‘Gaul is a whole divided into three parts.’ Above this my annotator has written, in large and forceful letters:

Gaul ÷ 3 parts

Why on earth would he need such an aide memoire? Is he, like, an idiot, that he could read ‘Gaul is a whole divided into three parts’ and ‘Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres’ and then put the book down thinking, ‘right, Gaul. That was an eleven-part division of … um…’

I have to admit I was wondering the other day what sense a future reader might make of some of my marginalia – which are often filled, not with notes on what I’m actually reading (although that occasionally figures, as well) but with things like notes on the ambient conversations occurring around me as I read, or my own free associations about other things I’m writing or plan to write.

God knows what someone would do with the marginalia on Phenomenology, for example, which have occasional marginal comments designed to help me find particular passages quickly, when I expect I’ll want to quote them in writing – I suspect some of these notes would probably look every bit as inane as the “Gaul ÷ 3 parts” annotation mentioned above, as they are actually intended to mark passages that make good sound bites, rather than interpreting a passage difficult to understand. Far more extensive, however, will be notes on fragments of conversations I want to remember (which, given my experiences reading Hegel recently, get pretty racy in places… I’ll wager you that no one else’s notes on Hegel contain the comment: “You make me feel like a natural woman!!!” And I shudder to think what interpretation my hypothetical marginalia voyeur might make of such a comment…), or dot points related to other things I’m writing or planning to write (I love the thought of someone trying to make sense of how these dot points relate to Hegel’s text: they do look like they’re meant to summarise an argument – but it ain’t Hegel’s argument…). The cumulative effect, I suspect, would make me look quite insane. Then again, I shouldn’t worry about this, as I apparently look insane anyway

Altered States

On my way into the office this morning, I passed a group of American tourists, gathered hopefully around a somewhat decrepit busker, who must have offered to take requests.

“California Dreaming?” one suggested.

The busker looked confused and, in a suspiciously slurred voice, asked, “Izzzat… whazzit… Hotel California, you say?”

“No,” the tourist, persistent, pressed on, “You know – California Dreaming!” Blank look. “You know! ‘All the leaves are brown… And the sky is grey…’? You know!”

The busker, wrinkled brow and pursed lips, visibly strained to recapture a memory of the tune, and finally achieved a breaktrough: “Oh! That one! Yeah! Yeah! I know that one!”

As I continued down the street, I could hear him begin a rousing, if unique, interpretation:

“Oh there’s a yellow rose in Texas, that I’m a going to see!
Nobody else could miss her, not half as much as me!”

Overheard in a University Coffee Shop V: Some Like It Hot

Context: a heated discussion at the next table over what would make a good flavour for an “Australian” ice cream (hyperlinked for the benefit of overseas readers… ;-P).

Woman: Vegemite!

= pause =

Woman: You know – vegemite, mixed in the ice cream!

= pause =

Man: Be kinda salty, wouldn’t it?

= pause =

Woman: WeetBix!

== long pause ==

Woman: You know – like cookies and cream! But, you know… with WeetBix…

= pause =

Woman: I don’t know… What’s “Australian” any more, anyhow?

Man: I know! Barbecue!

= pause =

Man: You know! Like charcoal grilled! Charcoal-grilled ice cream!

== long pause ==

Woman: I don’t know…

= pause =

Woman: I’ve always reckoned that ice cream is better when it’s… you know… cold…

This Is Not a Post

Magritte's PipeStill intending on maintaining my holiday blogging hiatus, but wanted to post some organisational updates for the reading group in the new year, and couldn’t resist tossing up a bit of ephemera while I was at the keyboard…

On the ephemera side of the equation: my favourite coffeeshop, where I often spend my mornings reading and writing, is blissfully empty at this time of year. I think the place is open only because the owner is remodelling the kitchen (and fretting over how to minimise the damage the remodel will inevitably wreak on the accumulated layers of informal and formal artwork that cover every surface). At least at the times I frequent the place, I seem to be their only customer (which has caused me to wonder whether they appreciate the custom, or whether it’s just a nuisance for them to have to prepare coffee for one person…).

Today, however, another hopeful soul – not a regular – happened upon the place and, since the establishment doubles as a pub, ordered a beer before absorbing that the environment presented no easy options for companionship. Forced to settle on me by default, he attempted a faux-casual approach to my table. I registered his intention out of the corner of my eye and, not desiring company, tried to make a great show of concentrating on Hegel. Alas, my tactic was unsuccessful, and I ended up having to rebuff the man explicitly, provoking some apparent confusion as to why Phenomenology should offer better company… (If you have to ask, etc…. ;-P)

The incident reminded me of when I was researching in Paris, where over time I became quite irritated at people’s tendency to assume that, because I was unaccompanied, I must necessarily want company – even when I was obviously absorbed in some task. I eventually took to carrying a copy of Durkheim’s Suicide with me any time I intended to work in a public space. I found that a prominently displayed copy of a work with that title was sufficient to deter most approaches with nary a word exchanged (although I observed some truly priceless facial expressions as people suddenly decided that they really didn’t want to initiate a conversation, after all…). The few hardy persons who persisted in approaching generally attempted to use the book as their initial point of contact: “What’s that book about?” they would ask. This opened the way for me to reply, “It’s a work that shows how social integration can cause people to kill themselves…” That response usually worked nicely to ensure my privacy. (I’m loads of fun in person, let me tell you… ;-P)

At any rate, in terms of reading group signposts for the next several weeks:

LMagee is waiting not-so-patiently for a discussion of the follow-up to the initial post on the Derrida-Searle debate. Because I’ve somewhat unilaterally called off my own serious blogging for a bit, LM is holding off publication of the piece until the middle of next week (thereby tacitly giving me a deadline for rejoining serious public discussion… ;-P).

I’ve invited a Mystery Guest Blogger to perhaps introduce a discussion on Lakoff and Pinker – no firm commitment yet, but I’m very much hoping this arrangement will work out. I’ll withhold further details until we know for certain.

Unless others are eager to step into the breach (someone? anyone?), I’ll likely write something on the preface to Phenomenology of Spirit, as the inaugural reading group post on that work, some time in mid-to-late January.

While I am looking forward to what the reading group will be reading and discussing, LM seems to be in a more nostalgic mood, and has compiled an impressive-looking bibliography documenting what we have already achieved (perhaps LM has been reading Spurious… ;-P). LM’s bibliography of works read since we formed (in case anyone was curious) is pasted below. Links to the discussions on many of these works, to the readings that are available online, and to various additional, “non-core” readings associated with the reading group discussions, can be found in the entries within the Reading Group category.

Chomsky, N., (2002), Syntactic Structures, Walter de Gruyter.

Chomsky, N., (2006), Language and Mind, Cambridge University Press.

Derrida, J., (1988), Limited Inc., Northwestern University Press Evanston, IL.

Fitch, W.T. and Hauser, M.D. and Chomsky, N., (2005), “The evolution of the language faculty: clarifications and implications”.

Hacking, I., (2002), Historical ontology, Harvard University Press Cambridge, Mass.

Hauser, M.D. and Chomsky, N. and Fitch, W., (2002), “The Faculty of Language: What Is It, Who Has It, and How Did It Evolve?”

Jackendoff, R. and Pinker, S., (2005), “The nature of the language faculty and its implications for evolution of language (Reply to Fitch, Hauser, and Chomsky)” Cognition 97.

Lakoff, G. and Johnson, M., (1980), Metaphors we live by, University of Chicago Press Chicago.

Pinker, S., (1995), The Language Instinct, HarperPerennial.

Pinker, S. & Jackendoff, R. (2005) “The Faculty of Language: What’s Special about It?” Cognition 95.

Saussure, F. and others, (1966), Course in general linguistics, McGraw-Hill New York.

Searle, J.R., (1977?), “Reiterating the Differences: A Reply to Derrida” Glyph II.

Weber, M., (1946), “Science as a Vocation”, Oxford University Press.

Whorf, B.L. and Carroll, J.B., (1956), Language, thought and reality: selected writings of Benjamin Lee Whorf, MIT Press.

Wittgenstein, L., (1999), Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, Dover Publications.

Wittgenstein, L., (1967), Philosophical investigations, Blackwell Oxford.

[Note: image modified from the one hosted at Wikipedia – please see the Wikipedia page for information.]

Santa Pause

Small suggestion to roving santas cropping up in unexpected places along the street: if a small boy looks absolutely terrified of you, to the point that he embeds himself bodily into his parent’s leg and will later require an almost surgical extraction, chances are it isn’t the best idea to continue following the boy’s family down the street, in the vain attempt to prove that you aren’t the most terrifying thing their child has ever seen in his life… I’m sure there are plenty of other children this time of year who would be eager for your attention: by all means, prioritise. We promise we won’t mind…

Oh – and please accept our apologies for the velocity with which your lolly was returned to you… The trajectory probably wasn’t all that ideal either… Maybe it was just the wrong flavour…

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotted Mind

So I was in my favourite coffee shop this morning – not writing this time, but trying to puzzle my way through a somewhat intricate theoretical argument. Reading complex texts, for me, involves something like a miniature version of the process I go through when I write: I step back from the text frequently to rotate concepts around in my mind, trying to get a better feel for their contours and for how they fit together with other concepts, whether from the text I’m reading, or from other theoretical approaches. I keep doing this until I get a solid grasp for something like the generative principles of an approach. The ideal (which I rarely reach) is to get the sort of inside-out view of a theoretical approach that allows me to inhabit it sufficiently to understand how the approach would address particular questions – whether the text, in practice, addresses those questions or not.

While I’m rotating concepts around in this way, I’m very disconnected from what is happening around me. Part of me is aware of my surroundings on some level – if needed, I can sort of replay what’s been happening while I was thinking about something else, but this takes a bit of time to do, and has the shadowy quality of a half-recalled memory. Normally, this doesn’t particularly matter, because I don’t generally read complex texts in settings where I would need to be aware of anything else.

Today, though, I was gazing into nowhere in this coffee shop and, as I resolved the concept I had been working on and slowly woke back up to my environment, I realised that someone I knew was watching me. I started fumbling for memories of how long this might have been going on, and wasn’t reassured by what I could dimly recall… ;-P Embarrassed, I began mumbling something about having been in another world, when they interrupted with: “You look very serene and meditative – I wish I could be like that…” I find this interpretation for some reason incredibly funny… Maybe it’s the implied extrapolation from transient action to persistent being? At any rate… back to reading – in a more… private setting…

Lemon Drop

Walking out of my office, I notice that someone has left a disreputable looking blue plastic bag on the floor just inside the entrance to our work area. A crumpled, hand-written sign above the bag on the wall reads:

Lemons* + bags
Help yourself

They* need to be used soon

I particularly like the notion that the point was as much to get rid of the bag, as the lemons, and the fact that the sign contains the oddly-placed footnote.

Tender and Contract

Walking to the train station this morning, I found myself behind a demonstrative, affectionate couple. They meandered down the street, arms around one another, throwing one another off balance. As we all waited at a corner for a light to change, the man bent down and kissed the woman affectionately on the forehead, and whispered: “Thank you so much for signing that prenup…”

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