Philosophy, Dualism, unlikely but interesting people

Today, it seems, is a day for dualism. Well, yesterday was, I guess; it's now almost three in the morning of this new day, which I'll probably miss the first few hours of, sleeping. At least I won't miss much-- it's pouring rain right now, and will continue to do so until well after sunrise, I think. The only real hope is that it lets off before I have to go to work, and in enough time for me to get to the bank, too. That's another thing! When I can drive, I won't have to worry about scrambling up steep, muddy banks on high-speed roads with sharp curves and no sidewalks so I don't get run over! That, and I won't have to drag my work uniform around in that huge backpack anymore, which will be nice. I'm sick of that stupid thing. I look like a little kid, and I feel like one, and when my shift seems to always start at the same time all the little kids are getting out of school... Well.

Anyway, dualism. A friend was telling me today about a book of Bruce Lee's he picked up (it should be noted that, although many people see Bruce Lee as a great martial artist, or a great philosopher, he saw himself as a philosopher first-- at this point in the conversation I pointed out that a great martial artist must needs also be a philosopher, or at least that's always been my perception, and my friend agreed), and how he was talking about the Western and Eastern philosophies. The main point was that Bruce Lee took the same approach to philosophy that he always had with martial arts-- an approach he could take, having seen both sides of the coin-- which was that both had their merits, and rather than standing around arguing about which was better, you'd be better off studying both and taking what looked right.

And then I ran into this blog post/speech by Stephen Fry:

[After a long bit on self-help books, and sugar, and enterprise, which I almost entirely agreed with*]

Well, I count myself one of those suckers for at least 50% of the time. I love dumb action movies, and sentimental weepies. I love hamburgers smothered in sweet tangy sauce. I love toys and games and theme parks and RVs and spectacle and simple solutions. I love having my vulgar glands and cheap sensation receptors tweaked and tickled. I love believing in promises of a brighter future. I love the idea that training myself to breathe only through my nose or to chew my food 48 times before swallowing will make me thinner, less stressed and sleep better or whatever the latest fad might be. I love the idea that five simple mantras chanted twice a day might help me concentrate, make love more satisfyingly and become richer or that by following Jesus or Anthony Robbins will make me rich and happy.

But for the rest of the time I want the truth. I want it unsweetened. I want to wash my mouth free of all sweeteners. I want to test all claims and statements on the anvil of experience or by empirical double blind randomised cohorts according to best scientific practice. I want to doubt, to experience, to think, to challenge and to scoff. I want art and literature and cinema and music that rejects easy pappy, poppy formulae and which reflects the truth of experience and all the ambiguities and complexities of existence. I want not sweet but bitter and sour and salt. I want realism not idealism. I want facts not fancies. I want imagination not wishing upon a star. I want learning, language and literature not philistinism, fantasy and infantilism.

First GK Chesterton, then Bruce Lee, now Stephen Fry. Maybe instead of going to school, I'll just spend the next ten years hiding out in a library, occasionally coming out to climb trees once a week or something.

*I don't know what it is that bothers me so much about books like How To Win Friends And Influence People. Maybe it's pride-- the idea that I somehow need -help- to "win friends" No! No, the idea that friends are something to be won! and "influence people." You see, I damn well -know- how to make friends. I just don't care enough about most people to make the effort. Ye gods, that sounds awful. What I mean is, if someone needs help, I will by all means help them out if it is in my power to do so. I will not go party with them, nor will I make small talk, nor will I giggle at their stupid jokes, nor will I spare them long rambling verbal essays on philosophy if we are in proximity. I don't want to win friends. I want to be friends with the people who I care about, and the rest of the world can go fuck off.

DISCLAIMER: It's three in the morning. If I made this speech to the above-mentioned Bruce Lee fan, musician, and close friend, he would probably smack me upside the head and point out all the problems with this footnote and all it implies and outright states. But it is late/early, and my aqueous humor hurts, and I don't care.