#85 REPUDIATION
So I admit to lots of different
thoughts; ways of getting around
things, the concepts that blocked.
The entire Wittgenstein thing
was one - it was almost
hilarious. Wittgenstein came
up with an entire logical format
of philosophy and world view,
it was published, he gained
renown, friendships with
Bertrand Russell and others,
and then he went silent. He
just figured he'd worked it
all out, made his points, laid
the grand groundwork for
huge philosophy spans and
the rest, and walked away.
Went to build, by hand,
for years, a house for his
sister - a design of his
own, quirky and austere,
but he built it with long
labor. Then, one day he
awoke and decided that
all he had written and
concluded before was
incorrect. He repudiated
it all, and, after his death,
many notebooks were
found containing all his
new work, which too
was published under his
name. An entire 'other'
school of his thinking.
It's known as 'old'
Wittgenstein and 'new'
Wittgenstein, or
Wittgenstein I or
Wittgenstein II. The
notebooks are known by
their colors. 'The Blue
Notebook', 'The Red
Notebook' - without
titles, just like that. That
is how they're cited. I
always got a big kick
out of that, and a particular
factor of all this 'high'
regard for Wittgenstein
went out the window once
I realized he was a pretty
logical guy - willing to
forgo the wildness of any
speculative and energetic
philosophy and instead
contend with the ho-hum
of simple meaning to
regular words, sedated
and complacent, with
all that as our world. I
went home to my crazier
side, me and old
William Blake.
-
It was also funny : have
you ever noticed how all
the jerky rock-star guys,
whenever they have
something new (I mean
the old guys, like from
the 60's up through the
90's, maybe, after which
point I stopped caring or
listening) they sit back
and start telling the
interviewers, so that
people will buy the new
stuff, how great it is -
and how crummy their
old stuff was, or is! "Uh,
man, we were screwed
up then, drugs, groupies,
turmoil. That old music
represents and reflects
all that. I can hardly
listen to it myself. This
new album, man, it's
us now, and what we
are - a few things
straightened, a lot of
the attitude gone. Great
man!" They simple
repudiate all they ever
were before - it's all
industry BS, but still. I
sometimes used to think
they were maybe getting
all into Wittgenstein and
taking new tips from
his marketers.
-
In the time, the little time, I
comfortably had my little
apartment at 509 e11th -
before all that idiot-mob took
it over and I bailed, we used to
(by 'we' I mean me, and Andy
Bonomo and whoever he was
banging that week), used to
enjoy music, what we called
it anyway : all the usual crud
of the day - Doors, Santana,
Grateful Dead, Jefferson
Airplane, Sopwith Camel,
Jimi Hendrix, even I guess
some Bob Dylan though I
don't think he (Andy) was
ever into that and you certainly
wouldn't much play bongo
drums to it. Ans then, of course,
the endless ladling of Velvet
Underground, Lou Reed,
Mo Tucker, John Cale, and
all that. I thrived a bit too on
Ornette Coleman, Miles Davis,
and John Coltrane. In fact,
most probably that was more
where my head was at - that
dirty downbeat of 50's jazz,
all those strung-out struggling
black guys and their jazz lofts
and dark jazz clubs, finger-clicking
beats and babes, sweater-clad
girls doing three guys if one
on a nickel. All this rock n' roll
and hippie shit was all crap to
me. I was always more engaged
in the stark and the tough, the
black lingo of jazz, and the
toughness and verity of the
singular beats and hideaway
crazies. I knew that. It was one
of the New York problems that
presented itself to me. I really
wanted these guys, the dark and
the smoky, the beat and the rash.
But I was about 6 years too late
maybe. They were all gone,
dispersed out, their own
movement of thought and
music and poetry and
writing almost discredited
and bowled over by all the
listless crap that was being
churned out : all that new
flower-power jism flying
around happy heads. If I
wasn't so non-violent, I'd
have punched a few of
those jerks right in the
schnozola. As my father
used to call our big,
family noses.
-
Speaking of which (yeah,
and there's more) I always
thought that the sins of the
children should be borne
by the father, by the one who
spawned them. It's kind of
the opposite of that archaic
maxim wherein the 'sins of
the fathers are borne by the
children.' But I never cared
about that stuff; I liked it
turned around. Figure it this
way (hey, listen, I know I'm
an obscure and radical thinker,
outlandish and way out there,
but no one ever said you have
to follow me) as a reason,
even, why people like Elvis
or Dylan or Hendrix should
have been executed. No matter
how 'good' and 'high' and
'exalted' their stuff may have
been, ab initio, from its
beginnings, they are the ones
responsible for the crap it's all
become. And they shouldn't
get away with it. Look at the
entire industry of garbage and
evil and negativity it has brought.
Look at the layers and layers of
self-serving, loud, and arrogant,
Godless creeps who've been
foisted off on us as leaders
and thinkers, and - for that
matter - 'Poets', oh good
God c'mon - look at the
mind-destroying numbness
and drug-induced vomit that
has destroyed any real thought
and thinking in this country,
at least here. The rest of it,
everywhere else, I frankly
don't give two clicks about.
And the rest I just don't know.
-
Since tonight's episode here
was just all conjectural
crazy-stuff anyway, I'll give
it one more for now. Do you
know how I stumbled on and
symbolized Relativity for myself?
It's all pretty difficult to grasp,
but try. About 1965, the first
radial tires began coming out;
they'd been on European cars
for years, but America still used
what were called bias-ply tires.
The metal bands within the tire
went lateral, with the round of
the tire, and not 'across' the tire
(radial). Radial tires were
generally kept much softer, and
that too at first caused great
misunderstandings when first
seen. I knew a mechanic who
insisted on putting way too
much air in a 'radial' tire, because
to him they always looked low.
Most of the Euro cars were
smaller and therefore lighter
and more nimble, even front-
wheel drive, which was also
pretty non-American back
then. Radial tires, like Europeans
and their thinking, they 'gave'
more, they hugged and squished
around the ride better, the radial
bands in the tire giving more bend,
easier hug and acceptance of the
road. American tires, by contrast,
big and rigid and hard (oops!)
rode sternly, high and with
plenty of air pressure. They
'battled' the road instead of
'accepting' the road, as a radial
tire (and as a European) would.
The was Part 1 of my theory, the
difference between Euro and
American thinking, being, and
thought-composures. Part 2 of
my theory - and this is where
the relativity part comes in -
had to do with 'how does a tire
wear out?' It was very difficult
to grasp, but I felt it had the key
to illuminating Relativity too.
As follows: Relative to our
fixed viewpoint, the traveling
tire in some way must 'scrape'
along the ground, to wear out,
YET, in viewpoint the tire is
constantly turning and never
'really' in fixed contact with the
road to get the 'scrape' we imagine
that wears it out, that makes it
bald, eventually. At speed, the
tire-to-ground contact, for the
splendid millisecond it exists,
is always propelled, on the move.
There is no actual 'moment' - as
we would perceive it or see it -
where the two are in conflict
enough to be 'scraping' for wear.
What is it them that's incorrect
about our conclusion of the visual
we 'think' we perceive? Is it, and
why not, the 'turn' that scrapes
the tire along the ground? I could
say yes to that - two conflicting
directions, two differing forces,
a push/pull format of abrasion
and wear as the tire, by steering,
is rotated into a turn or a bend.
Or is it, instead or also, 'heat'.
Does the constant rotational
force and mini-momentary
contact of tire to roadway
cause heat, by friction? Or
not? Is that the factor
that labors the
rubber down?
-
So, that's it for this chapter.
That's how, and that's the
kind of stuff I used to think,
and still do, about the worlds
and worlds and worlds
floating all around me.
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