Thursday.
Thing is, for Masturbation Opus I need to learn about Wittgenstein.
Also, Pistol is what we call a Bad Influence.
Pistol: Why not have an itters bitters drink?
Lefty: Because then I can’t sleep.
Pistol: We’ll swing by my house and pick up some Ambien first.
Lefty: Huh.
Pistol: And you can borrow a philosophy book.
Lefty: (small voice) I was going to work tonight.
Pistol: …
Lefty: Let’s go.
CUT TO:
The enormous Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy on the bar by Lefty’s elbow.
Very cute black dude (bonus!) approaches.
Dude: The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy?
Lefty: Yep.
Dude: You brought that to a bar? Is that for real?
Lefty gestures modestly to the book.
Dude: That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
Really? How about getting your dick sucked while thinking about logical atomism–do you think that might be hotter? Hahaha!
A few minutes later.
Another dude: Are you really reading that?
Lefty: Yeah. I need to bone up on philosophy.
(Bone up: +100)
Dang! This Wittgenstein was a weird dude. Three of his four brothers committed suicide–not dispositive, but worth a mention.
Wittgenstein had unrealistic expectations of the rural children he taught, and his teaching methods were intense and exacting — he had little patience with those children who had no aptitude for mathematics. However, he achieved good results with children attuned to his interests and style of teaching, especially boys. His severe disciplinary methods (often involving corporal punishment, not unusual at the time) — as well as a general suspicion amongst the villagers that he was somewhat mad — led to a long series of bitter disagreements with some of his students’ parents, and eventually culminated in April 1926 in the collapse of an eleven year old boy whom Wittgenstein had struck on the head.
If that’s not your cup of tea, try this:
I wanted to write [Wittgenstein wrote to a friend] that my work consists of two parts: of the one which is here, and of everything I have not written. And precisely this second part is the important one.
Pant, pant! Swoon! All these quotes are from Wikipedia, by the way.
The essential monk interlude…
After abandoning his work as a school teacher, Wittgenstein worked as a gardener’s assistant in a monastery near Vienna. He considered becoming a monk, and went so far as to inquire about the requirements for joining an order. However, at the interview he was advised that he would not find in monastic life what he sought.
Word is what he sought was COCK, and he found it in the Wiener Prater. (Freebie.)
Here’s another picture. I can’t stop staring at him.
Now I have to bone up on Kierkegaard, because Wittgenstein referred to him as a SAINT. I already put a dozen page markers on his entry in the Dictionary.
I may never come back.
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