Confessions of an amateur and misguided philosopher

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry to anyone so sad as to read this pathetic document. Okay, I’m laughing a bit as I write this because I can’t be so miserable with a straight face. But it seems the only attitude to bring to what I’m trying to do, which is to make an account of my pitiful efforts to understand my own condition.

The answer to philosophy, pretty straightforward, is to stop thinking. I’m pretty sure that’s right. If you follow logic to its conclusion, the conclusion is to discard logic, and to achieve a kind of zen or animal state where you just act spontaneously on your impulses, and live life with awakeness and compassion. I shouldn’t even bother describing it, because it’s a culture cliche by now, but I mean the flow state, or the state an expert is in when the perform at their best and the rest of the world falls away, or I guess what people mean by “enlightenment.

The problem for myself is that while I can touch on this kind of existence briefly, I haven’t as yet been able to sustain it. I keep thinking. So since thoughts will come, I try to think my way through them with the hope that maybe if I think hard enough, the thinking itself can become a kind of meditative activity, a mastery in its own right, and the hateful mind will be defeated by itself.

Well, that last bit just killed my train of thought, which I guess makes sense. So I’m going to give up here, publish this on my blog, and then maybe tomorrow I’ll scratch out this paragraph and try again.

Confessions of an amateur and misguided philosopher

Too much stone

The stone was covered in a fine green moss. Out of place, slightly, although Sally couldn’t put her finger on why… the over-arching canopy of trees certainly had the same forest ambience on them.

A small stream trickled through the glade, passing just under the stone, which jutted out over it. The stone felt turned, as if it was slightly perpendicular to reality. The lighting on it didn’t feel quite real.

Sally walked forward, putting her hand on the stone, which sunk into the moss, pressing against her hand like a green carpet. As she put her wait on her palm, sh felt a swivel, as if she were rotating to come in line with the stone’s orientation. She looked up. Where there previously had been a forest trail and a road, now there was an open glen, stretching out in front of her, with a road, tracing from her feet up to a gaitn castle stark against the sky.

She started walking down the path…

Too much stone


The painting was familiar. Too familiar. As I stared into its eyes, I realized I saw him before. The picture of Dorian Grey. Back again. In our reality, this time.

I pulled out my knife and stabbed it between the eyes.

And turned around, to see an angry old grandmother glaring at me.

“Why are you stabbing my brother Polly, huh?”

Polly chuckled.

I whipped around and pulled my laser gun from my belt… and realized it was just a lazer pointer.


I hate being caught off guard like this.

I dived over the bannister, and rolled, crashing through the thin panels and into the set of the adjacent movie.

“CUTT!!!!!” the director screamed.

Another day like this, and I’d be one unemployed actor….


Great scene: Deckard’s first “retirement” in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep

This is a fascinating action scene. For one, it’s so short: it’s barely a page of reading, and less than a minute of book time, from the moment that the android Polokov enters disguised as a Soviet detective to Rick Deckard’s catching on to Deckard’s killing it. And most of that is taken up by dialogue, especially this amazing exchange:

“You’re not Polokov, you’re Kadalyi”, Rick said.
“Don’t you mean the other way around? You’re a bit confused.”
“I mean you’re Polokov, the android; you’re not from the Soviet police.”

This is the only occurrence I can think of in fiction where a character gets a key expository sentence backwards mid-action. And it’s so perfect for this moment, and does so much work in such a compressed space. It establishes Deckard’s disorientation; he’s caught on, but he’s off guard and reacting in real time to the appearance of the threat. And it works within the larger theme of this part of the book of the confusion between the real and the fake: Deckard, like Isadore in the preceding chapter, is losing his grip on which is which. At the same time, Polokov’s matter-of-fact, somewhat condescending correction establishes the basic nature of androids: cold and superior, even when their cover has just been blown.

The following line of dialogue, “Why won’t my laser tube fire?”, is also great. It simultaneously conveys the narrative fact that things have just escalated to violence, and that Rick has recovered his wits and is now a step ahead of Polokov. Again, this is thematically relevant; androids have a superiority complex, but it’s grounded in an inferiority complex because they’re puzzled by the empathetic, intuitive side of humanity. Rick just out-intuited Polokov, and after Rick explains how he countered the laser, Polokov descends into animal rage: “Then I’ll have to break your pencil neck.” A paragraph later, Rick blows his head off.

Most action scenes draw out the drama, describing the events in elaborate detail. In contrast, this scene is incredibly compressed. As a reader, this is very disorienting; we go from what seems like a pedestrian scene — the introduction of a new character — to a life-or-death situation, and then straight to the aftermath, with no warning. I love this because it allows the reader to feel a little of Rick’s adrenaline, as opposed to aestheticizing and distancing the reader from the violence. It also grounds Rick’s paranoia; the reader experiences first-hand what it’s like to not know if the person you’re talking to is an ordinary human or an android trying to kill you. As the first of Rick’s several android encounters, it creates the psychological context for the following ones, each of which further escalates the threat to his sense of reality.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep by Philip K Dick.

Great scene: Deckard’s first “retirement” in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep