Fuck the hopeless romantic (Part III)

I left off writing about writing this blog and unsure of what I am, while “trying to be something that I’m not.”

While this seems kind of ridiculous (and I agree), I countered that with, “perhaps I’m simply refining what I already was and currently am.”  Sounds all mysterious and cool, right?  Well, duh?!  That’s precisely why I wrote it that way!  Sheesh – I am trying to be a writer, aren’t I?  Of course I’m going to try and pull a stunt like that!  The fact that I’m even writing like this is kind of humorous.  I can’t even imagine what it would be like for the reader…may God have mercy on your soul.

I joke, but the reality is…that if you actually are reading this, however you’re reading this…the fact remains that you are taking time out of your day in order to process something that I spent time creating!  If you think about this, this is actually a “far out” idea.  Is it any wonder that the hipsters used to say “Far out, man” – is it any wonder why The Dude used to say “Far out, man.”?   Sheesh – do you even have to think about it?

It is safe to say that this will likely be the last pomodoro of the evening.  My world just got rocked in a pretty sufficient manner.  After 3 pomodoros of writing and the consumption of Patron and Pabst Blue Ribbon, I would like to thank you for reading this garbage.  At times, I often wonder if I wonder if I am eccentric and borderline “crazy.”  As soon as these thoughts cross my mind, I also wonder if it is I, who number among the few are the ones who are sane, and it is all the others who are actually eccentric and borderline “crazy?”

This makes me think of the butterfly dream, by Chuang Tzu (or Zhuangzi):

The butterfly dream[edit]


Zhuangzi dreaming of a butterfly (or a butterfly dreaming of Zhuangzi)

Another well-known part of the book, which is also found in Chapter 2, is usually called “Zhuangzi dreamed he was a butterfly” (莊周夢蝶 Zhuāng Zhōu mèng dié). Again, the names have been changed to pinyin romanization for consistency:

Once Zhuangzi dreamt he was a butterfly, a butterfly flitting and fluttering around, happy with himself and doing as he pleased. He didn’t know he was Zhuangzi. Suddenly he woke up and there he was, solid and unmistakable Zhuangzi. But he didn’t know if he was Zhuangzi who had dreamt he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming he was Zhuangzi. Between Zhuangzi and a butterfly there must be some distinction! This is called the Transformation of Things. (2, tr. Burton Watson 1968:49)

This passage hints at many questions in the philosophy of mindphilosophy of language, and epistemology.[vague] The name of the passage has become a common Chinese idiom, and has spread into Western languages as well. It appears, inter alia, as an illustration in Jorge Luis Borges‘ famous essay “A New Refutation of Time“, and may have inspired H. P. Lovecraft‘s 1918 short story “Polaris“. It also appears in Victor Pelevin‘s 1996 philosophical novel Buddha’s Little Finger and in José María Merino‘s short story Papilio Síderum.

Zhuangzi’s philosophy was very influential in the development of Chinese Buddhism, especially Chán (known in Japan as Zen).

It was at this point where I succumbed to the fate of my tequila.

Stay tuned.

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