For nine hours, an English-South African man has been telling me, patiently, in his rich & gravelly voice, without ever seeming to take a breath, about "the naughty left" hemisphere of the brain and "the saintly right" hemisphere. He is telling me of the long history of Western thought, its prejudices and confidences, and what sorts of things we can never hope to know. I am absorbed. I am shocked! I am nodding and laughing at the treachery of our own little fleshpots!
CW, that's not what 'fleshpot' means!
Oh!
I am persuaded at last to read Heraclitus, who was already appealing because of the fire stuff (those wacky Pre-Socratics!). It will come after the remaining eighteen hours of this book however. Then some more time will pass between that and the actual reading of Heraclitus.
Most importantly: Down with Platonism! Down with this sort of (self-defeating) thing!
How much would it cost, you think, for Meryl Streep to read to me the Fragments of Heraclitus and does she do Cameos lmao.