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51423Re: le Difference

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  • fictiveparrot
    Apr 13, 2010
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      > In an essentially absurd and meaningless world...a world
      > of infinitesimally insignificant specks like you and I and
      > Jim...a world bracketted by oblivion before and after our
      > infinitesimally insignificant births and deaths...morality
      > is merely an existential contraption invented by mortal
      > daseins.

      How does one know for certain that there is 'meaningless' in existence? Now don't go telling me that I am thinking the opposite and that I am arguing for meaning. I am merely wondering -- as I have been these past oh 9 years on the list -- how one states anything with absolute certainty.

      But one step beyond wondering about knowing is wondering still about the stigma placed on lacking meaning. Meaning, say, is missing -- as an assumption no less profound than other assumptions people like to make -- and instead of remorse, quietly accept without certainty and with the possibility of revising in the future that meaning may not be part of the soup.

      What have you lost? I think it is merely loss of a distraction -- or of some other gawd you have grown to worship.

      > That's why we invented God and Humanism, in turn.

      Boredom would be more likely for me to invent a gawd than morality. Gawd would be an interest. Interests are interesting. Whether or not I can prove that I am, or that you are, I can define interests -- regardless of what they are attributed to. Interest is not good, it is not bad. It is vaguely and inexplicably 'interesting' until it is not anymore. This could be a biography. It could be a fictional character Andy who calculated the movement of ants. He used hard-dried kernels of corn and glass cups in a format not terribly unlike an abacus. Occasionally he spat. The spitting had less to do with the ants than the tobacco or that which he assumed was tobacco from what he was told that he hung to dry as his uncle had in the barn by the fleece which he thought was to keep off the mold. Yet Andy one morning looking at the ants and the cups and the kernels saw piles and not a calculation. He spat. the ants continued to crawl. his cups continued to hold kernels. but he stopped counting and wondered why. He saw piles and cups and kernels, and whatever was there before that was interesting was not. He could not remember what it was. He dashed the ants under a large rock, and burned the tree where he observed them to the ground. he left out the kernels for the birds, and the cups, simply abandoned amidst the ash. Children found the cups some time later, they filled them with dirt. They wondered why they were there, but never wondered about kernels or ants or Andy. They never saw the tree, and perhaps that would have been a hint. But it is a wonder that they may not even have cared. Andy didn't. But they had fun with the cups just the same. It wasn't nearly ant calculations by any stretch of the imagination. Strangely they did not want to kill Andy; strangely they did not want to be his dog; strangely they played with and abandoned the cups and never once spit. But for whatever time they played, they were interested...and then they were not.

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