Once Works Well was pure technology. Now it seeks merely to divert.
Pansy subjects - Verse! Opera! Domestic trivia! - are now commonplace.
The 300-word limit for posts is retained. The ego is enlarged

Thursday, 4 February 2010

Getting to the heart of the matter

Fed up with motorbikes, kitchen utensils and public urinals I baited my hook with technology and cast a line into River Google. A massive tug brought this to the surface:
“… there is nothing too technological about the true essence of technology, as Heidegger has shown that technology's ultimate essence resides in a rather poetic dwelling near the truth of Being.”

EXTRAPOLATION
DELETED
BECAUSE
OF
INCOMPREHENSIBILITY


Novel progress 4/2/10. Ch. 14: 869 words. Chs. 1 - 13: 58,239 words. Comments: Roof repairs for Clare.

Mrs BB's reading progress: On January 25 I asked her how many titles she'd read in 2010. the answer was 24.

9 comments:

Sir Hugh said...

I Wikipidiaed Heidegger and spent ten minutes trying to understand his philosophy which you may say had some affinity to the Monty Python Summarising Proust Competition. Predictably I was non the wiser. Anyway I never trust anybody who wears that kind of hat!

I look forward to erudition in your next instalment.

Julia said...

Somehow that sentence evokes a water closet set in Wales.

Barrett Bonden said...

Sir Hugh/Julia: I fear there's been a change of plan. In fact the plan got torn up. But what does J know about about WCs in Wales? is she in fact an expert on all WCs.

Julia said...

I've never been to Wales, but felt sure that truth-of-being might be a local river, or pub. And if we call a WC a facility in the South, don't you think it might rate the name "poetic dwelling" in more lyrical parts of the world?

Rouchswalwe said...

This calls for a session ale. Or two.

The Crow said...

I'll have a boiler-maker, with dark, foamy beer, if you please.

Barrett Bonden said...

Julia: I've been remiss. The Prague Polymath takes in a lot of territory. Wales is full of that sort of fancy thought and your suggestion about "poetic dwelling" standing in for "facility" has caused me to rush round to all three of our own "facilities" and change the reading matter in each to something more improving, more metric.

RW (sZ); I'm still pondering the function of the session ale among my own bibulous practices. Consider this sentence: I intend to booze up to my eyeballs therefore I shall drink something weaker. There's a personality defect that needs treatment.

The Crow: My view about boiler-makers is that they didn't require anything special in the way of beer.

The Crow said...

Re: boilermakers - they don't, but I don't like pale ales or beers - too bitter. I like rye for the whiskey part. If I'm going to drink one of those bombs, I have to like what I'm drinking.

Bomb is a good description, too, because only one boilermaker and I'm bombed. I drink rarely because my body doesn't tolerate alcohol well at all.

Say, did you ever try old F&S beer while in PA? Local nickname is Old Froth and Slosh. Story goes that it's made from the spilled beer that's mopped up at the end of the night, strained, then served again the next night.

Barrett Bonden said...

The Crow: The bane of my beer-drinking life in Pittsburgh was Iron City. An undistinguished brew but the commercials were a genuine study. Someone had taken an 8 mm camera into a bar along the Monongahela and filmed the rickets-ridden, spotty faced locals as is. Embarrassing but truthful: it was poor wizened twenty-year-olds like this who actually drank Iron City.