A little presumptious, perhaps

I feel a little like I did the first time I put down Kant. I was was all of about 16. I'd picked up my father's copy of "Groundwork of the Metaphysic of Morals" and put it down, I'm sure, within the first ten pages. I've now read that little opus—but can't say I understand much of it. Now in my mid-twenties, I feel a similar uncertainty when it comes to being a man.

After writing the initial post on this topic, I sat down, with a semi-conscious comical determination, to arrive at some pronouncements on manhood. Following my first impulse, I began a list of adjectives. It made it to three long before I stopped the absurd endeavor. What next, I thought?

Well, it's been more than a week and I've little furthered the investigation. But I can perhaps glean something from my impasse. In this initial stage of investigating the question, it seems to me that my difficulty has two primary, and unrelated, causes. First, there is the simple reason that I don't know what I'm talking about, i.e. I don't yet have an answer formulated in words (even if I feel like I occasionally manifest some version of the answer in practice). Leave that aside. The other is more interesting. Whenever I began to formulate an answer, I feel, or at least worry, that I am breaching some PC norms. Is it, for example, acceptable to claim that to be a man one must in some way manifest power. That is, are power and manhood firmly entwined? Forgetting whether it's acceptable, is it even true? As importantly, does it do anything to distinguish manhood from womanhood? Should I instead be talking of masculinity vs. femininity? To what extent am I heading towards a definition of manhood, and by contrast also of womanhood, rooted in sexual dynamics and am I privileging a heterosexual view of experience?

Returning to the question of power, if only because it's the only place I've thought of to start. Could I equally gloss the quality in question as confidence? Off the cuff, I'd say that were we to do that, we'd have failed to distinguish manhood and womanhood as both require a certain confidence in oneself. This doesn't mean a person must be self-described as confident. Indeed, self-assessment has little, if anything to do with it. Plenty of people act with confidence, and in so doing appear to others as confident, even when inside they quiver with self-doubt. Similarly, many who proclaim their own confidence or manliness do so, it seems to the rest of us, because they have none at all. But enough of the aside. Confidence seems intrinsic to being an adult, to having come of age, and to stepping out into the world. Whatever all of these mean, and whatever relation they bear to actual experience aside, it seems that despite the verbal tiredness of such phrases, there is a certain truth in them, and part of that truth somehow relates to confidence. I say "somehow" because I don't really know how, and I don't want to pretend to greater clarity than I have.

So confidence is necessary, but not sufficient. Power still evokes and includes something else. Real world power is an obvious aspect, but that would be not only uninteresting as a final conclusion, but also plainly false. Take, for example, Tony Montana, Al Pacino's character in the movie Scarface. While he has yet slough off his adolescent naivety—the "young whipper-snapper" quality—he is clearly, at the movie's opening, well on his way to being a man. He has confidence and poise, a certain flair that appears as though it may come from knowing himself or at the very least comes from a fearlessness that indicates worldly experience. By the time he utters his most famous line, "All I have in this world is my balls and my word and I don't break 'em for no one," it's clear he's become not just a man, but a man with power, which is perhaps to say more of a man. One can trace the trajectory of Tony Montana many ways, but among the most interesting is as a depiction of manhood and power. At the beginning, Tony has no power, but he's quite the man. With the "my balls and my word" line, he goes from powerless peasant to "man with a plan," and, crucially, man acting on his plan. And this continues for a good while, with many other memorable pronouncements on some version of manliness, "Orders? You giving me orders? Amigo, the only thing in this world that gives orders is balls. Balls. You got that?"

But eventually Tony loses his manhood even if he's still got balls. It's a progressive dwindling, caused chiefly by cocaine abuse and increasingly erratic judgment, but the clinching finale that also initiates the third act, the collapse of his real world power, comes in a scene in his garish bathtub room, where he is first left by his wife, and then by his friend and right hand man, Manny. As Manny walks out, Tony yells, "Eh, fuck you, man! Who put this thing together? Me, that's who! Who do I trust? Me!" and then to himself, "I don't need him; I don't need her. Everything is roses; I don't need nobody!"

But take a step back to act two. What's most interesting there is how Tony loses his manliness before it becomes certain that he's going to lose his empire and all the power it bestows. What happens?

---

That's as far as that one's going for today. But two other thoughts

To the extent that the view of manhood I've been exploring in Tony Montana is just a cultural caricature of "being a man," it's not what I'm interested in. Could the nerdy Bill Gates be a man in Tony's world? How about a professor of English literature? Whatever understanding of manhood I come to cannot be tied only to what a person does—there's something important about the way one does it. A quick gloss of this would be, "with dignity" or, in Tony's words, "All I have in this world is my balls and my word."

Second thought: Returning to the essentialist question from the first post: It occurred me that the existence of transgendered people suggests there is a fundamental difference between being a man and a woman. Not that I ever thought this ought to be in dispute. But occasionally people start to wave flags of sexism when the topic is raised and difference is claimed, though many of them would never do so if it were someone talking about a sex change.

Drinking like Men

I spent most of last night at a bar with an acquaintance who is fast becoming a friend. We talked about booze, women and being men. We both work in the booze industry (he's a bartender, I work for a wine importer/distributor) and so it's unsurprising we spent a good chunk of the evening talking about our trade. Similarly for women. We'd both have our own travails of late and that's a prime topic of conversation when you're out for drinks with a friend. But what of being men? It's not discussed much at all in any forum, serious or not.

Women have a very established body of thought devoted to exploring the question of what it means to be a woman. And I don't just mean the serious stuff, though that's important, but the silly and irreverent stuff to. Talk about women occurs in all sorts of rhetorical registers in any imaginable type of forum. But no one talks about being a man, except maybe Robert Bly, but I'm not sure he counts.

First off: There's the essentialist question. Is there anything fundamentally different in kind, genitalia aside, between being a man and a woman. This is actually not a question I care to answer in any serious way. I bring it up because my question, what does it mean to be a man, takes as an obvious premise that there is something fundamentally different in kind.

What is that?

Goodnight,
Ev

Returns

I've decided, at the suggestion and behest of a good friend, to return to writing here. Since graduating from college, I've largely lost interest to posting my various musings to this site. There are various reasons for this, but foremost among them are that I don't spent as much time musing as I did while in school, and, what writing energy I've expended has been towards a couple articles I've been working on, one now done.

Why don't I muse about life, language and politics anymore? I'd like to say it's because I'm now living life, engaging in politics and, uh. . .. But it's mostly that I've been doing different things: hanging out with friends, reading about politics and religion, and looking for jobs.

The decision to come back here was sparked by a commitment I made to myself, but cemented by making it explicit to my friend, that I will write everyday. Subject matter and quality are largely unimportant. Don't say you haven't been warned. I'm writing as an exercise in writing.

Angsty, unadulterated self-expression

I went to see Wolf Parade last night. Great show. Fantastic. (Let me get that out of the way before I start complaining.) But Wolf Parade's drummer needs a friking metronome. Very nearly every song was revved up into a short little diddy of a punk anthem. Perhaps the band simply wanted to get off the stage asap, but whatever the case, slow the damn songs down.

The title of this post is more in reference to one of the evening's two openers, Frog Eyes, than Wolf Parade. I realized something while standing in the crowd, watching their front man gyrate, mumble incoherently, and frenetically scratch his guitar (which sounded like Tom Morello after an acid binge): Indy rock is all about the song writing. More so than any genre I've lived through, the ascent to the pedestal of cool in Indy rock depends largely on well written songs. The contrast last night was stark. Wolf Parade had them in spades, Frog Eyes had jack. I found myself wondering how the Frog Eyes front man had managed to convince someone to let him bring his private bathroom mirror "I am rockstar" fantasy out for all the world to see. I can hardly imagine something less interesting. Mercifully, it was at least a bit comical.

To be Young and Hip

I recently responded to a job posting seeking "hip alternative waitstaff." This was my reply:

---
Hello,

I am responding to your ad for hip alternative waitstaff. Not knowing what sort of hipness litmus test you have in mind, I am at a loss as to what to include (I mean, many of us are hip in different ways). But suffice it to say, I am pretty hip. I like hip music. I wear hip clothes (in a variety of styles) and I really don't care about being hip (ultimately, the most important quality, to some at least). All that aside, I imagine that in asking for hip alternative types you were partly trying to draw in those who are easygoing, which I am, but even better, I am also hardworking (I've been promoted at both of the full-time jobs I have held).

Incidentally, should you like any advice in putting together a hip wine list I've got the knowledge to do it.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,
Evan Trimble
---

As you may have guessed, I am still looking for a job. I've also expanded my field of possible jobs to include most anything wine related that pays half decently (or has benefits). We'll see what sort of response my hip potential employer gives me. I'm still primarily focused on looking for work with a wine distribution or import company, but have yet to find any. There's still one dream company (relative to Portland) that I haven't jumped through all the hoops with yet (I'm trying get one of the owners on the phone to follow up on the cover letter and resume I posted to him late last week), but at this point I am cold-calling every distribution and import company based in Portland (or with Portland offices) that I can find. Cold-calling sucks at first, but I'm getting better at it and it's becoming sort of fun. Today I got one invitation to go visit a little import and distribution company and chat with the owner and see his operation. He couldn't offer me a job as there was none available (it's a very small outfit) but it should be interesting and could lead to something in the future.

Hope all are well.

Love Ev

the internet's pretty nifty, eh

[Quoted in full from a review of the Spice Girls' "Spice" on Amazon.co.uk; I've italicised some highlights, this deserves publication in a peer reviewed journal, perhaps unfortunately.]

----
***** What you really really want, 19 Sep 2005
Reviewer: "kpalowe" - See all my reviews
The whole Spice Girls concept was one of the most genius creations in pop music history, and the group's immense global success serves to confirm this. Five singing/dancing women, each with their own character, nickname, and ensuing persona, with the 'Girl Power!' slogan to appeal to young girls and a sex appeal for.... well - all men. They were heavily criticised for being emblematic of all that was wrong with pop music and their slogan was accused of being ,inauthentic due to the group's overtly sexual image (see the video to 'Say You'll Be There', for a palpable example). However, this really highlighted some critic's ignorance of post-feminist theory and literature, rather than an accurate deliberation of the group's implications.
Besides, 'Spice' is a tremendous pop album that regenerated the sense of fun that pop had lost some years previously, and this was further punctuated by the group's flamboyance. In fact, many pop albums that have been produced since seem to exemplify qualities and influences that can be identified on 'Spice'. Some people will never be convinced that any one of the individual members possessed even the slightest trace of artistic merit. However, most seem to overlook the fact that the Spice Girls only delivered the final artefact and that there was a whole team of producers and artists involved with the Spice Girls concept. Most crucial was two excellent song-writing duos: Stannard/Rowe and Watkins/Wilson (the former being arguably superior to the latter). The song-writing and the arrangements of the songs thereof was supreme, and there are a variety of pop influences that could be discussed, i.e., r 'n' b ('Say You'll Be There', 'Naked'), funk ('Something Kinda Funny'), gospel ('Mama'), even a bit of jazz ('If You Can't Dance').

The album opens with the sound of running footsteps and laughter before Mel B's attention-grabbing 'Well!!!' just before 'Wannabe' kicks in. Once the familiar (i.e., often used) I-bIII-IV-bVII riff begins Mel B and Geri exchange that famous 'I'll tell you what I want what I really really want, - so tell me what you want what you really really want', and the Spice Girl 'précis' can be identified within the first eight seconds. Certainly, there is no way you are not going to listen! The 'girl on top' hypothesis is humorously presented with lines such as 'don't go wasting my precious time', 'What d'ya think about that?', 'are you for real?', and 'If you really bug me then I'll say good bye', and the deliberately catchy chorus summarises their message lyrically. Towards the end of the song each member is pithily introduced. It is a great introduction to the album, and arguably Richard Stannard and Matt Rowe (with the Spice Girls) coined one of the greatest singles in pop history; one that was certainly much-needed at the time. The video is great too, with the girls gate-crashing an aristocratic party, and causing general (but in no way violent - the light-hearted sense of fun prevails) destruction. It does appear as if someone was attempting to convey some kind of message somewhere - for the girls pass a tramp in the street before they enter the building, and on leaving jump on a bus. However, there is no sense that they are showing any contempt for the people at the upper-class party. Perhaps the video is more of an observation on our excessively hierarchical society, rather than an definite protest. When the group jump on the bus, they beacon us to follow them...... and a large number of people did just that.

The r 'n' b enthused hit single 'Say You'll Be There' has a very strong melody and is perfectly arranged, including a wonderful harmonica solo, with some pretty fine vocal work from Mel C towards the end as well. Other hit singles '2 Become 1' (Christmas UK number 1 1996), 'Mama', and 'Who Do You Think You Are?' (Comic Relief 1997) will be familiar to most. 'Love Thing' also has a great melody, which exploits the blues influence upon pop in general, with use of flattened seventh, augmented ninths etc. A lot of the vocal arrangement is very advanced, balancing textures, the members various vocal ranges, and solos vs. harmony, vs. parallel octaves (the type of vocal arrangement that had previously been an attractive quality of such groups as TLC)to perfection, and 'Something Kinda Funny' is a case in point. Lyrically, the songs are either about typical pop song subjects (i.e., the joys, trials and tribulations of relationships), the group's 'Girl Power!' message, or a juxtaposition of the two. There are a few exceptions i.e., 'Mama' and 'Naked' (perhaps 'Mama' isn't exactly a high point on the album.... but you can't win 'em all). Following the introductory nature of 'Wannabe', 'If You Can't Dance' is something of a summary, particularly of their 'Girl Power!' statement, with the persistently repeated line 'If you can't dance to this you can't do nothing for me baby!'

Overall, 'Spice' is an impeccably well-balanced pop album with an amiable allure. Whatever one might think of the five individuals, the Spice Girl concept was a work of ingenuity. In years to come, it should become more and more patent that the repercussions of 'Spice' on popular music were far greater than was first evident, and the album holds a significant place in the history of pop music. For now, we can sneakily put the album in our personal stereos when no one is looking, keep the volume at a reasonable level, bop along, and hope that no one asks what we're listening to!

-----

From the next review (because I couldn't resist):

"Following up an album which many people consider to be not only the best musical experiment since a child called Mozart though he'd give the family piano a go, but the best album ever recorded, is not an easy task, but somehow, SOMEHOW, they topped it."

I love the internet. Amish people don't know where it's at. Technology is cool. Freakin' awesome. My tongue-in-cheek suggestion that the above review deserves publication in a peer reviewed journal is partly serious; I've seen worse (save the elementary grammar mistakes) in many an academic article. Perhaps I should start a peer reviewed journal centered on pop culture.

Never Forget:

“Do or do not... there is no try.”

“You will find only what you bring in.”

“Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”

“Named must your fear be before banish it you can.”

"For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is."

:)

No more, please

Or, "Why I don't think I'll be joining the academy"

What if I one day wrote sentences like the following:

"The madeleine section mediates between the vertical immobility of an instantaneous revelation and the horizontal extensiveness of an incipient narration."

I don't know how I'd sleep at night. I might just as well become a drug mule for a pharmaceutical company. I'll admit, I've taken this out of context, but even within the paragraph or the chapter in which it occurs, this sentence is pretty bad. In context, what he means by vertical and horizontal is relatively clear to anyone who has read Saussure or Jakobson (and that is a fair assumption for his audience), but the rest of it verges on drivel, in my humble opinion.

Anyways, I'm done with the body of my essay (I don't call it a thesis anymore) and am still working through my intro and conclusion. I don't know if I can stand to read my chapters again. I will, but not for another few days at least.

Love Ev

morning happening

There's something wonderful about the confluence of maintream pop culture and over-edified acadmedic intellectualism that I represent right now. I'm working at the coffee shop with my laptop on the counter. Eve's "Let me blow ya mind" is playing on the stereo, I can't help but bob my head and shake my tush, even if it is stuck on a chair as I read Proust et les signes (Gilles Deleuze). I'm working on my introduction, and now I'm singing along to Phife, "You see you, your career is done like Johnny Carson's . . . "

Hope y'all are having a good day.

Morning peregrinations

"The job facing the cultural intellectual is therefore not accept the politics of identity as given, but to show how all representations are constructed, for what purpose, by whom, and with what components. . . . Every society and official tradition defends itself against interferences with its sanctioned narratives; over time, these acquire an almost theological status, with founding heroes, cherished ideas and values, national allegories having an estimable effect in cultural and political life."
—Edward Said, Culture and Imperialism

[cited by Cyraina Johson-Roullier in the epigraph to her book Reading on the Edge: Exiles, modernities, and cultural transformation in Proust, Joyce, and Baldwin]

The sun is shining

In my mind. I slept well last night and am heading into the home stretch before the playoffs. I'll be handing in a draft this upcoming Monday. After that, it's a whole lot of finessing and tweaking, but no more big chunks of writing. I've taken to listening to Daft Punk, Basement Jax and the like while editing my chapters. This may have to be changed as I get to more substantive edits, but for now it's like a party on my keyboard. I combined my chapters into one document for the first time last night: 57 pages. Actually, I spoke too soon about the no more big chunks of writing part, I still have an intro and conclusion to write which will probably bring my page total up 80 or so pages. I want every sentence to be to the point. I want a concise but elegant argument. Editing over the next month will probably (hopefully) bring me down to 65–70 pages, which would make me happy. While my project could easily be turned into a book, I don't think the issues I've managed to address warrant much more than 65 pages. In some instances I've included extra examples of identical or similar phenomena, which well good for argument's sake, create unneccesary repetition. I will probably relegate many of those to footnotes. Anyways, it goes well is the point. I also got a presentation out of the way yesterday which went very well, and got my Logic mid-term back, which I came oh so close to aceing. Hopefully that means I won't have to spend endless hours on natural deduction anymore. It seems like most of the course from here on out is an expansion of the ground we've already established. Yesterday we added the backwards "E" ("there exists") and the upside down "A" ("for every"). Such fun.

Love Ev

"Et en effet les femmes qu'on n'aime plus et qu'on rencontre après des années, n'y a-t-il pas entre elles et vous la mort, tout aussi bien que si elles n'étaient plus de ce monde, puisque le fait que notre amour n'existe plus fait de celles qu'elles étaient alors, ou de celui que nous étions, des morts?"

["And in effect the women whom we no longer love and who we encounter years later, is there not, between them and you, death, just as if they were not of this world anymore, since the fact that our love exists no more makes of those who they were, or of them who we were, dead?"]

I hate you thesis

Such bombast is rarely true. For example, I don't ?????? as I find it hard to hate anyone or anything I don't personally know. If I were to say about someone I know, "I hate you" (I haven't done so since I was wee tyke), it would be just as much an expression of my affection for that person as my displeasure. Why? Because in that context, "I hate you" would likely be a reaction to an offense I felt was caused by someone I cared about. For people I don't know, in whom I have nothing invested, hate isn't worth the effort. So, I don't really hate my thesis (indeed, I've had a lot of fun working on it today), but it is St. Patrick's day and I am still working on it, so, "I hate you thesis." I should be out at a bar smugly making derisive comments about green beer while I sip my creamy nitro pumped Irish brew, drinking Irish car bombs, taking my yearly oppurtunity to do the frat-boy thing and say "kiss me 'cause I'm Irish". Of course, I'm not really Irish, except by adoption, but I think my Scottish and Welsh heritage gives me due claim to patriotic revelry on this day of Irish pride. You see, as a descendant of two parts of the subjugated Celts, I feel a kindred link to my Irish brethren, and the literary critic in me might say that my positive presence implies my absent brother, but then I might get kicked out of the bar, so I'll just have a few shots of Redbreast and order another pint of Kilkenny. Moreover, we Scots and Welshman have nary a holiday to call our own. There is the undercelebrated Robbie Burns day (January 25th) for the Scots among us, but few of us actually like Haggis, and too many people don't enjoy whiskey.

All I have to console me is my pathetic can of Rockstar and a cold burrito. I hate you thesis.

(Oh, and I have Cat Power, but I should probably stop listening to it as it brings me to tears.)

:)

I love natural deduction. Like a nice challenging crossword in a Sunday afternoon, it brings a certain playful pleasure and allows me to ignore the rest of the world for a little bit (my thesis).

Appalled

I'm generally not appalled very often. Perhaps I should be. So much of what passes for democracy and the defense of liberty in this country is appalling, but it doesn't surprise me and so I forget to feel appalled. Rarely do I every find music appallingly offensive. But yesterday, while playing pool, some adolescent freshman put on the song I Like It When the Strippers Cry by the Bloodhound Gang. I somehow missed the Bloodhound Gang growing up, perhaps because I was only about 12 when they made it big. My god. In other appalling news, I continue to unearth mounds of publish drivel under the guise of literary criticism. I can only hope that I am not adding to the pile.

Chapter 3 begins

"To understand a metaphor is by its very nature to decide whether to join the metaphorist or reject him, and that is simultaneously to decide either to be shaped in the shape his metaphor require or to resist." (Booth, Wayne C. "Metaphor as Rhetoric" in On Metaphor ed. Sheldon Sacks. 63)

please help

I want to sleep. But no, because:

I can’t stop
The way I feel
Things you do
Don’t seem real
Tell you what I got in mind
’cause we’re runnin’ out of time
Won’t you ever set me free?

She drives me crazy
Like no one else
She drives me crazy
And I can’t help myself

I can’t get
Any rest
People say
I’m obsessed

She drives me crazy
Like no one else
She drives me crazy
And I can’t help myself

[to my thesis]

Mr. Smith

"...They were gradually more and more extended, and were divided into many inferior chapters, till at last the doctrine of spirits, of which so little can be known, came to take up as much room in the system of philosophy as the doctrine of bodies, of which so much can be known. The doctrines concerning those two subjects were considered as making two distinct sciences. What are called Metaphysics or Pneumatics were set in opposition to Physics, and were cultivated not only as the more sublime, but, for the purposes of a particular profession, as the more useful science of the two. The proper subject of experiment and observation, a subject in which a careful attention is capable of making so many useful discoveries, was almost entirely neglected. The subject in which, after a few very simple and almost obvious truths, the most careful attention can discover nothing but obscurity and uncertainty, and can consequently produce nothing but subtleties and sophisms, was greatly cultivated.

When those two sciences had thus been set in opposition to one another, the comparison between them naturally gave birth to a third, to what was called Ontology, or the science which treated of the qualities and attributes which were common to both the subjects of the other two sciences. But if subtleties and sophisms composed the greater part of the Metaphysics or Pneumatics of the schools, they composed the whole of this cobweb science of Ontology, which was likewise sometimes called Metaphysics."

[Ev is finishing a chapter and has no time for comment. Refrain from asking him how he came upon a passage of Adam Smith. There is a good reason, but he needs to get back to work. Love "ev".]

NIN does Derrida

I'm reading about Derrida and listening to NIN's "Hurt." It's been a while since I've listened to Trent. After five Zeppelin filled days I decided it was time for a change, and when I failed to find my Tool (apparently I erased the files accidentally), I went for NIN instead. Doesn't do much for making me happier but somewhere in the catharsis there is some joy.

The reason I'm writing is really just to tell you that Derrida and NIN, specifically "Structure, Sign, and Play" and "Hurt," go very well together. Before settling down to read Limited Inc., I decided to head over to Wikipedia to see what the over-obssessed wiki nerds had to say about a man who is regarded alternately as an intellectual luminary of the 20th century, or a great charlatan who managed to fool pompous comparative lit profs in universities across the US. (It's often said that Derrida never received widespread recognition within the French academy, which is partly true, but he did hold a teaching post at L'École Normal Supérieure, colloquially referred to as "Normale," which is the French equivalent of Harvard times ten.) Appropriately, the Wikipedia article has a big red flag at the top saying that the factual content of the article is disputed. Anyways, I was reading this quote from "Structure, Sign, and Play" when a particularly painful part of "Hurt" came up:

the entire history of the concept of structure, before the rupture of which we are speaking, must be thought of as a series of substitutions of centre for centre, as a linked chain of determinations of the centre. Successively, and in a regulated fashion, the centre receives different forms or names. The history of metaphysics, like the history of the West, is the history of these metaphors and metonymies. Its matrix [...] is the determination of Being as presence in all senses of this word. It could be shown that all the names related to fundamentals, to principles, or to the centre have always designated an invariable presence - eidos, archē, telos, energeia, ousia (essence, existence, substance, subject) alētheia, transcendentality, consciousness, God, man, and so forth." ("Structure, Sign and Play" in Writing and Difference, p. 353.)


The particular connection had something to do with Derrida's idea of shifting centres, which somehow described to me my particular experience of "Hurt" at that point. Anyways, back to my reading.

Love Ev

thoughts while rereading

Reading books is overrated. I don't exactly mean that, but I couldn't resist the ?????? bombast of that statement. Reading lots of books is overrated. I'm rereading parts of Swann's Way, the first book of In Search of Lost Time for at least the sixth or seventh time. It just gets better. Proust's introduction is sublime. Sometime ago I wrote something stupid about the sublime being a category academics use to escape their own self–edification, at which they horribly fail. If the adjective 'stupid' doesn't qualify as a negation for you, let me put it this way, "it is not the case that...." Wow, look what logic has done to me. I've begun think about how my natural language (English) sentences could be translated into formal logic. This is both good and bad. Probably good to learn how, I can always be intentionally ambiguous later.