Tue, 07/13/2004 — Bloiffy
In the words of Wittgenstein, "Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language."
The idea that the very problems of philosophy itself are not so much problems, that the questions asked are not really questions at all and all simply arise through a fundamental inability to define our own language's semantics is one that has plagued me night and day for as long as I can remember. Or at least, those fleeting moments of lucidity between times when I am tied down in the darkroom at the back of the Hole in Juan club, being forcefully penetrated from all sides by men wearing police hats, tiny leather jackets, chaps, huge handlebar moustaches and leering, lecherous grins. Also sometimes they have cigars hanging from their mouths. Those moments, periods whilst the semen dries into the rags that remain of my clothing, and the pleasure-pain that blinds my every thought slowly begins to recede, I ponder upon these things.
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