I have to say this; that's the first thing.
(Wllm.) Blake says, and maybe I'm misremembering this
but I've already said it this way maybe a dozen times, that
everything that can be thought is an image of truth.
So for starters, a distinction: there is a difference
between my self-serving schemes, altered as the occasion unfolds,
and the thoughts that arrive like light-and-geometry at the eye.
And are held there tenuously by an art that no one can teach you.
We can certainly argue about an idea but we are not arguing
with each other, exactly. And if we are we aren't attending to the idea.
And if an idea-object does arrive sometimes you are helpless not say it.
Maybe because it has not fully arrived until it is taken into the mind.
The words that you find for it are not to be confused with the idea-object itself
but they are an important point of ritual, a kind of listening that is at best
collaborative, revised in the space around you, occupies the senses like good bread.
That's a fine case for conversation, for writing, and for even fairly wild speculative philosophy. The actual physiology of thinking is a fucking A-MAZING topic, btw. With current technology you can watch someone's brain think and you can see concepts activate the optical cortex, as though the telescope of the eye is also a projector, so the universe goes in and goes out, so there are two universes with conceptual differences: the objective one that we never really quite see but we trust is out there, and the subjective one that we think about and have to acknowledge as partly figment, and we're left with the job of identifying the accretions of self in our projected image and replacing them with unsullied observation. Maybe that's why literate scientists tend to like [Wllm.] Blake. Fuck!
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