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Scrawlings From Limbo

Scrawlings From Limbo

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Published by davidwalters
Quasi-Existentialist Musings from Paradise
Quasi-Existentialist Musings from Paradise

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Published by: davidwalters on Jul 08, 2014
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved


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sCRaWliNgS fRoM LiMBo
by David Arthur Walters
Introduction to Myself 
Dedicated to the Editor, who rejected this article and asked me, "What is your point? There is no point here. Please do not submit any more articles."
Honolulu Circa 2000
I BELIEVE LIFE IS BEATING around the bush for the truth while not really wanting to find it. It wants to have everything both ways, like option speculators who play "straddles" to make a profit whether the price of the underlying security rises or falls. Prevarication is a good term for this strategic enterprise: before proceeding with the hunt, the bush man straddles (varicare) both sides of his adventure. A prevaricator is "crooked" because he sets out to mislead his quarry into a trap. For example, an author might bait his hook with a little flashy food for thought in order to capture the attention of his readers, rather than immediately get to the point. In fact, when my own subject is a romantic one, I prefer to use the allure of a mysterious introduction instead of getting immediately to some carefully reasoned and probably spurious point. For the marvelous and mystic romantic self does not have a point in time and space-its point is truly non-dimensional, leaving all other points aside as dead ends for pinheaded existence.  A man must be mad to be romantic in this objective day and age. I have found, however, a method in my madness, a reason in my will whether I own it or it owns me. That method might as well be called prevarication. But the trap I set is not for you-it is for the killer I have noticed lurking in the shadows as I beat around the bush. No, I would not mislead you. I do not suggest that you follow me, but I do invite you to accompany me as I meander, because I feel we have something in common that we have almost forgotten. That something is necessarily vague and ambiguous. Please draw close so I can whisper in your ear. That something is a secret whose careful definition would spell our demise, especially now that sacred images are regularly desecrated in modern museums. It is not for Nothing that this image must not be graven-it is for the something of our self-defense. That subject is the subject making this effort that necessarily implicates you. Despite our differences and because of them, that subject is the glorious self. Wherefore I prevaricate, knowing that the inevitable objections to any statement I make will serve to illustrate the magnificent plenitude of my subject.
 I have alluded to the ambiguous self, and I have supposed that we have mutual identity in our apparent contradictions. But perhaps I am already losing your attention. Maybe you feel an habitual urge to toss my abstract allusions aside in favor of the usual concrete article about things and events that can be more easily apprehended and therefore seem to be certain hence valuable. I urge you to ignore that objective article and to return to the subject. I would not destroy the factual world. I am a rebel, not a revolutionary. Yet I ask you for the benefit of your doubt, for you will not find what I have to say in the factual reports. Essays such as this one are not published in popular  journals: the publishers are preoccupied with mundane and prosaic things. As a matter of fact, I am so disappointed with junkyards that I have retrieved this essay from the trash. After all, the fetishism has gone too far--the self is almost dead, all brain and no mind. Here is an example of the murderous trend: a man has just publicly stated that another man's professional opinion must be a lie because he used the personal pronoun "I" three times while rendering it! I beg your pardon, but I must resist self-destruction to exist. I must resist the chorus chanting "Inevitable Global Progress to Self-annihilation!" Here is another example: a man has supposedly proven that there are no such things as ideas or minds to put them in, that people do not have "insides", and that those "subjectivists" who believe otherwise, namely romantic fools, present a clear and present danger to society, especially to innocent children. Surely this dogma is just as delusory as the theory that the world perceived and the selves perceiving it is a delusion. Both sides repudiate the personal self. I cannot sympathize with that fatal mistake, although I do sympathize with everyone in many other respects. Furthermore, I cannot help but be amused by the confusion resulting from the taking of one side to the exclusion of the other, for the joke is also on my amused self. I recall Thomas Reid's (1710-1796) remarks about how Descartes (1596-1650) decided not to believe in his own existence until he found some evidence proving it, and discovered that proof in the fact of his thinking. "A man that disbelieved his own existence, is surely as unfit to be reasoned with, as a man that believes he is made of glass," Reid declared. Consciousness may deceive a man who thinks he thinks, but someone who disbelieves his own consciousness is to be pitied or laughed at. Furthermore, "And is not every man, in his wits, as much determined to take his existence upon trust as his consciousness?" Philosophy as we know it will not cure a man who thinks someone or something else is thinking "his" thoughts. He is in dire need of some other course of therapy-Reid recommended "physic" and "good regimen". Likewise, I feel those with diminished selves today are many and they are nearly insane. Subjected to objective considerations rather than truly mastering them, there are so many impoverished selves in the consumptive throes of apparent abundance that humanity is now on the verge of a colossal psychotic break the expression of which has never been witnessed before on this planet. I say this without regard to any civil calendar-I doubt whether the breakdown is related to the arbitrary astronomical calculations of our time. I feel I am virtually a nobody. And since I feel there exists a multitude like me without a voice and without representation, I feel I must carry on with this free speech salvaged from the trash in hopes someone more competent than me

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