++Received in email: We cordially invite you to participate in the World Congress of Philosophy on the topic: The Philosophy of Aristotle.
Am I actually somehow accidentally a philosopher now? I knew I shouldn't have spoken at that philosophy festival in Hay twice. I mean, I'm flattered. But also somewhat confused. I wonder if I've reached that point where I seem wise because I talk about books and have a white beard. Of course, right now, I am still writing KARNAK, and am therefore immersed in the viewpoint of various strains of speculative realism, tending towards the nihilistic frames of Peter Sjostedt-H and Eugene Thacker, whose STARRY SPECULATIVE CORPSE I'm currently finishing -- which volume is leading into the Kyoto School and , well: This abyss is what Nishitani terms “nihility.” Nihility is the absence of any meaningful or necessary relationship between the human being and the world into which it is cast. This relationship of vacuity oversteps the scale of individual human beings or human collectivities; it is a vacuousness that oversteps the personal, resulting in what Nishitani terms an “impersonally personal” or “personally impersonal” relation. The human being, which had just prior taken the world for granted as its home, suddenly appears radically out of
place, both in the world and in its very being...
And, previously: "it is my wish to leave everything that I can think of and choose for my love the thing that I cannot think." I love what I cannot think. Perhaps there is no better formulation for the philosophical impulse in these religious, mystical texts. Thought questions, develops, and is led to a point where
thought can no longer continue without negating itself. I love what I cannot think.
You don't want me to talk about philosophy right now. I will make you cold, and also possibly cry. I'll be glad when I've finished KARNAK, because having that little bastard in my head is probably doing me damage. In any case, any philosophical thought I may have sounds too much to me like one of those false dawns of maturity you get as an adolescent: convinced the veils have parted and you have been visited by a profound notion, and seven years later you'll be too embarrassed
to even privately recall it. That said, The Great Winter Hermitage is upon me again, so we'll see how crazy I get.
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