It Ain’t Easy Being a Sage

At least it wasn’t when they were turning me out!  Back in my day if you were too shy or introverted or weird to become a Mage or a Rage you might get an interview with the Realm of the Sages, and if somehow they thought their was some spark of wisdom in your weirdness they’d let you through the Orb, and you’d study the teachings of the great sages.  Yeah they’d make sure you had a few basic Sage Tools — like the Yoga of Exchanging Self and Other, and Imagination Through Narrative, maybe a little Loosening of Neurotic Fixation through Linguistic Play — but you’d never get a chance to practice them in real world settings — where people grieved and suffered, killing others, wasting themselves — before they’d send you out to do your Saging.   Cinque or Swim they’d call it — five ways to fail — and one way to succeed.

Anyway…there I was with my freshly minted Sage Di-Ploma (folded twice — once for Self, once for Other, making a single sheet of parchment upon which were written my Reasons To Believe in Myself) and they dropped me a realm of reality called Sambonus.  On Sambonus my first client was a Dog who was Unhappy because he wished to Catch Mice, and Walk by Himself, and Stalk and Pounce. Ho-ho I thought, this is a classic trap I learned of in Sage School — fighting one’s true nature due to cultural conditioning!  How naive I was!  How callow!  Talking to that Dog and Explaining to Him “You are a Cat who thinks he is a dog!  Once you stop denying your own true nature you will be Happy!”

How sagely he thought I was!  How grateful he was to me!  How I was grateful for the opportunity to practice my virtue of Self-Effacing Humility!

How angry he became at me when his friends denied that he was a Cat and shunned him.

They Bit Him!

They Scratched him!

They pulled his tail.

Were they also cats?  Was “dog” a “cat” in the Realm of Sambonus?

I returned to my teacher and he said “Look, Kaplan. It’s tough being a sage.  In the realm of Sambonus there is only one kind of creature — a Shiraffe.  A Shiraffe is something that looked at one way is what we call a Dog and another way is what we call a Cat.  And to be a true Shiraffe one must go through the stages of thinking one is a dog when one is a cat, thinking one is a cat when one is a dog, until finally one matures into being a True Shiraffe.”

“And how does one do that?” I asked my mentor.

“I don’t think I can tell you that” said my mentor.  “Nor, to anticipate your next question, can I tell you why i don’t think I can tell you.  But what I can tell you — if you want to know–

“I do.”

“Is what to do. ”

“And that is?”

“Go back and to your client and beg forgiveness.”

So I took the Intra-Realm canoe and paddled it myself (I had lost my money with my honor) and found my sad dog-cat-Shiraffe and said “Look, I’m sorry.  I was a very bad sage. I didn’t know who you were or frankly what a Shiraffe is.  Please accept my apology.”

“Apology accepted.” said the Shiraffe, now resplendent with his Polychrome Wings.

“Why?” I stammered “What?”

“You unlocked the key to my heart, good sir.” said the multi-chrome multidimensional miracle, smiling down at me from the seventy-seventh of his heart created heavens.  “For that is the necessary thing every Shiraffe must have to achieve his destiny.”

“And what is that?”

“The apology of a sage.”


Word Play


Sea lion, sea horse, sea l.  Sea L?  Someone got lazy.

Water polo. Marco Polo.  Why do water games end in Polo?

Why is c the only letter that sounds like a type of water?  Maybe there are other letters that have bodies of water that sound like them  — the D – the E – the F — but we don’t know about them because they are very far away

Sometimes when something sounds like something it doesn’t matter.  “Laminated” sounds like “lemonade”.  But lemonade is not laminated.  There’s no connection.  Unless, there is a connection.  When we are thirsty we don’t have lemonade. And then our thirst is laminated.  By lemonade.

An “Elephant” is like El Infant which is Spanish for the baby.  Because an elephant is like a Spanish baby.  I’m not sure about that.  Because babies are small.  

Maybe the only words that sound like what they are the water ones.  Lemonade has water in it.

If somebody received an email and it said “see attached links” and they expected a “lynx” meaning the animal that would be dumb.  Dumb joke or an actual dumb person.   Or both.

Sometimes I write jokes and sometimes I say things that i am sincerely trying to understand.   Sometimes I do what I can.  Sometimes I do what I must.   It’s like the difference between living in Canada and living in Mustada.

These things I say sometimes seem silly and sometimes seem serious. Maybe that’s cause they’re things.

There used to be a toy called silly string. I would like to market serious string.  There used to be a toy called silly putty.  I would like to market somber putty.  

There are fun size candy bars.  But I can’t marked serious size candy bars.  Because they already exist.  And they are fun.

There is justifiable homicide but no justifiable rape or arson.  But homicide is worse.  You’d think that would be harder to justify. I don’t want to be murdered or raped or arsoned.  I don’t even want to be thieved.

Would I rather be murdered in a justifiable homicide or in a plain old homicide?  On the one hand, a justifiable homicide is better than a plain old homicide.   On the other hand Justifiable seems worse cause then I would not just be dead.  I would also be wrong.

You can commit homicide in self-defense.  But you can also steal in self-defense.  Cause you’re hungry.  Any time you attack you can say you’re doing it in self-defense.  When you attack yourself you are making a self-attack in self-defense.  And vice versa!

Why do I make jokes?  I believe I make jokes about things that I don’t have a handle on.  Like women’s breasts.  They interest me but they shouldn’t because they are a source of food for a baby.  And I’m not a baby.

In addition to being a source of food for a baby, breasts are also a possible source of starvation for a baby.  If the mother makes a different decision.  

So a woman’s breasts are full of meaning.  Milk and meaning.  Possibly that’s why there are two of them.

I think that’s why I, a man, have nipples.  They are not full of milk and meaning. But they are full of meaning.    And no milk at all.  That’s too much meaning. Men have too much meaning and not enough milk.  That’s why we are so annoying.

I think it is lucky that we evolved as a life form with breasts because they are helpful organs.  If we were all cobras we would not be nearly so affectionate to each other. Because we would not have the organs to express that love.   On the other hand we could shed our skin.  

Early humans thought that meant snakes were immortal.  Early humans were dumb. Part of the problem was that they didn’t know they were early humans.  Because they hadn’t been around long enough to see that there were going to be more kinds of humans.  They thought they were just humans.  They didn’t know people would come who stood up straighter.  They thought they were already standing up straight.  I am smarter than an early human only in this respect. I know I am an early human.

I made some jokes about breasts and that might be offensive because some of us are men and some of us are women.  But I think the two genders should be honest and share information.  For example, woman did you know that a man if he really needs to urinate can hold the tip of the penis tightly, let it fill with urine and thereby add a tiny amount to his urine carrying capacity?  If you did not know that now you do.

I heard some women have penis envy.  They shouldn’t.   They should commit no penis sins at all.  No penis envy, penis lust, penis vanity or penis anger.  Or penis schadenfreude

Schadenfreude means shameful joy.   Schaden — shameful.  Freud – joy.    People talk about guilty pleasures.  And they mean watching Real Housewives Atlantic City or eating fudge. But those are not guilty pleasures.   A real guilty pleasure is enjoying your friend’s death.  

If you were really guilty about a pleasure you wouldn’t tell people about it.  You’d keep it a secret.

I was trying to be funny when I said if you were guilty you wouldn’t share.  You would if you did it to be forgiven.  I did that.  I was guilty of telling a lie to be funny.  And I confessed.  Do you forgive me?

The only thing you don’t forgive is if somebody hurt you cause they get off on being forgiven.  Unless you like that.  Then you’re a masochist.

Is masochism self-defeating?  Yes.  But if you never do anything self defeating you’ll never defeat yourself!  And then who can you defeat?  Some dumb masochist who wants it anyway!

People can want impossible things.  A friend of mine made a joke about a gay man who wanted straight cock. This was his joke: I have some news for you about the straightness of the cock you’re getting.  But my friend was being unfair.  

There could be a masochist who says beat me and is disappointed when the sadist says “okay”.  Because he wanted to be frustrated.   People say that’s a joke.  But actually it’s a serious.

You can want to be surprised.  And you can tell me that and it can make it harder for me to surprise you.  I can want you to understand me without words.   And I can tell you that using words.  That’s life.  Some people are at home outside.

Some people exhibit their sexiness by hiding it.  Some people are voyeurs by not looking.

I had a friend who didn’t want to be aroused by women’s bodies.  So he moved to a country where women kept their their bodies hidden.  But there was a chain going from a woman’s pants in the woman’s house — a slender silver chain —  to a bell.  And whenever the woman took off her pants the chain would move and the bell would ring and he would hear it and think somewhere there’s a pantless woman and become aroused.

One time a man rang the bell and he was aroused.  So he was gay.  Then it was a dog.  So he was a bestialist.  Then it was a baby.  And he was a pedophile. Then it was the wind.  So he was erotically attracted to the wind.


If you don’t believe me look it up.  The wind ringing a bell is a real thing.  It’s called a wind chime.

Billy Joel had a favorite cubist painter.  George Braque-aque-aque-aque-aque

One time I played strip chess.  It made the chess more sexy.  But it also made the sex more chessy.

Some people never show off. But they show off how much they don’t need to show off.  You’re like.  Hey show off.  And they say — no.

That’s what jokes are I think.   They’re when we say we want something but we’re afraid to say we want it.  When we believe something but are afraid to believe it.

That’s why jokes are the saddest thing there is.  Except for serious things.

This essay includes a lot of word play.  But word play is also word work.

Louis Armstrong said about jazz that if you have to ask what it is man you’ll never know.  Jazz is different from a droop.  What is a droop?  A droop is a fruit with flesh around a single pit.  Unlike jazz, If you have ask what a droop is, man you will find out.

I wish I didn’t have to work with words to get people to understand me.  Or to love me.  I wish I had the life of an aphid.  All I would need to be happy would be to stick my mouthparts into the leaf I lived on and suck leaf juice.  If I were an aphid it would literally be living the life of Reilly.

But as I’m sure you already know — aphid is as aphid does.


My Friend Flip, The Fictionist

My friend Flip wrote fiction and worked as a para-legal for a big firm, and had a very organized mind, and a lot of time, although to be honest, what he produced was not so much fiction as ideas for fiction, contracts between himself and his (imaginary)audience that were never notarized.  Not even signed.

Example: Flip would start with the basic idea of a detective solving a crime and then think to himself: Flip!

Meaning: How can I flip it?  So he would write an outline where the murderer wants to be caught, and auditions the detective, out of so many detectives.  So at the end of the day he had flipped the murderer from — WANTING NOT TO GET CAUGHT — to the opposite WANTING TO GET CAUGHT — and had flipped the plot from — A DETECTIVE TRIES TO SOLVE A CRIME — to A MURDERER TRIES TO FIND A DETECTIVE.

Further examples: He flipped a story about two lovers finding happiness to a story about happiness, an evanescent trait of bliss and oneness, seeking the two people who could give it a birth in this messy world.

Flip: Eric is not making up a character named Flip to give his readers something to mull over, but Flip is a real person making up Eric.

And Flip again: the relationship of Eric and Flip and Flip and Eric is a natural constituent of reality — the flip — and it is seeking the brains of its readers and writers to roost for a second in this swirling, boiling caldron of atoms, that calls us “life”.

And Flip again: the relationship of “flipping” is seeking out a flip, from flip to non-flip to finally find rest.

And having rested…TO AWAKE!


Heidegger on Atoms, Hammers, and People

As I read him Heidegger thinks there are three kinds of things we run into in our lives.

Things Like Hammers and Other Tools

We don’t tend to think about them because they disappear into the background of whatever we are doing with them.  They form interrelated groups.   Example: hammers.

Things Like Atoms

These are items we encounter when we try to figure out the laws for how things work abstracting from what our own needs and perspectives are.  Example: atoms, sets, enzymes.

Things Like People

These are things for whom what they are is an issue for them.  If you find yourself asking the question “What am I and what should I be doing with myself?” you are one of these.  Heidegger’s word for this is “Dasein.”

In a sense, a single thing can be all three depending upon how we run into it.  So my hand might be at the same time a collection of atoms, a tool for me to scratch my back, and a part of me which I am challenged to interpret.  There are definitely weird border-line cases as well.  Is a sickness — say a malaria infection — a free-standing scientific phenomenon or a drag on my ability to get things done?  You might say the first — it’s just a bunch of plasmodia running around after all — but that wouldn’t get the “sickness” aspect of it.  If those plasmodia were not interfering with my life, we wouldn’t call them a sickness.

When we do computer programming we are viewing the interaction of atoms in our computer as a tool.

When we view DNA as a computer program we are naturally using our language for interacting with tools to get a handle on cells and their history.  That makes sense because it’s one of our fundamental ways of getting a grip on something.  But it also doesn’t make sense because when the DNA first started evolving in the primordial soup there was nobody around who was using it as a tool.

What is the DNA really?  It’s part of our history which we are challenged to get a grip and understanding because that’s the kind of thing we are.

Can we make an artificial Dasein?  In a sense we always are.  Part of how we interpret ourselves is by endlessly making new versions of ourselves, through art, and projects we solicit others to participate in.  Dasein interprets itself by producing and projecting new versions of itself, and by responding to challenges to do so. It has to do so within limits — it has limited time and limited resources to do so — and that’s what makes it fun.  Of course it also makes it scary.

Heidegger calls death “the possibility that there will be no more possibilities for Dasein”.  That’s part of what it means for Dasein’s being to be an issue for it.  If there were endless possibilities of more possibilities, with no possibility of the possibilities running out, then Dasein would have no need to interpret itself and interpretation would have no meaning, or mattering.  An interpretation is always saying — this thing is like this and not like that — a family is a dictatorship and not a democracy for example.  With limitless time and no death we could say a family is a dictatorship and a democracy and a duck pond and etc. etc.  We would have no need to fix an interpretation to live with and that would mean what a family is would not be at issue for us.

This is an optimistic interpretation of death, because it means where there is no death there is no Dasein.  It’s only because of the possibility of the end of possibility that we can be what we are.  Maybe the end of possibility can also be seen as the final resolution of the issue of what it is to be Dasein — a heaven-like, nibbana-like state of bliss.  Or maybe that makes no sense!