Engagement, Attention, and Death

Anyone reading this is face to face with their own inevitable death. Let's start there. Time: it's finite.
When I was in 8th grade, I got put in charge of transcribing debates because I had authority problems with the teacher who ran the "Talented and Gifted" program. This was a blessing: it wound up teaching me more about how to think than anything anyone with a state job said to me from the front of a classroom at any point in my life. I hear it happen in the tapes, I could feel the change, the exact moment when someone started to take things personally and their tone changed. Not just their tone, though -- their methods and their goals. Debates would veer wildly off course or get stuck in iterative loops of parsing meaningless minutae to score points.
Yeah. I fucking hate that shit.
I primarily view Rigorous Intuition as an object rather than a community: my own special snowflake of a psyche at work. I read through your arguments and I only ever think the same thing: this isn't important. This doesn't matter, none of it, not one word. It won't even matter to the person who typed it, 10 minutes from now.
It's not that I don't understand, and it's definitely not that I think I'm any better off. My ego toxins are just in different realms: feel free to talk shit about my failed music career if you want to score points on me. That still works good on my bad days.
I primarily view Rigorous Intuition as an object, sure, but it's not a toaster or a shed, it's a huge glittering holographic cathedral of forbidden factoids and hard-won source material. Holy fuck, there is a lot of work put in. And sure, your personal passions are what guide a lot of that, but I'd like to propose something.
What if we all viewed this as our project rather than our property? Having been there for awhile now, I can report, quite subjectively, that I have never cared "who started it" when arguments and petty tit-for-tat, 30-quotes-deep, multi-page fuckery breaks out. Both sides are taking huge turds in everyone's punch bowl.
I just wanted to say that, really: it's poop, just poop, and it keeps floating in front of my screen. Also: you're going to die.
Thank you for your time.
When I was in 8th grade, I got put in charge of transcribing debates because I had authority problems with the teacher who ran the "Talented and Gifted" program. This was a blessing: it wound up teaching me more about how to think than anything anyone with a state job said to me from the front of a classroom at any point in my life. I hear it happen in the tapes, I could feel the change, the exact moment when someone started to take things personally and their tone changed. Not just their tone, though -- their methods and their goals. Debates would veer wildly off course or get stuck in iterative loops of parsing meaningless minutae to score points.
Yeah. I fucking hate that shit.
I primarily view Rigorous Intuition as an object rather than a community: my own special snowflake of a psyche at work. I read through your arguments and I only ever think the same thing: this isn't important. This doesn't matter, none of it, not one word. It won't even matter to the person who typed it, 10 minutes from now.
It's not that I don't understand, and it's definitely not that I think I'm any better off. My ego toxins are just in different realms: feel free to talk shit about my failed music career if you want to score points on me. That still works good on my bad days.
I primarily view Rigorous Intuition as an object, sure, but it's not a toaster or a shed, it's a huge glittering holographic cathedral of forbidden factoids and hard-won source material. Holy fuck, there is a lot of work put in. And sure, your personal passions are what guide a lot of that, but I'd like to propose something.
What if we all viewed this as our project rather than our property? Having been there for awhile now, I can report, quite subjectively, that I have never cared "who started it" when arguments and petty tit-for-tat, 30-quotes-deep, multi-page fuckery breaks out. Both sides are taking huge turds in everyone's punch bowl.
I just wanted to say that, really: it's poop, just poop, and it keeps floating in front of my screen. Also: you're going to die.
Thank you for your time.