O homem, o gênio

I’d got dumped by some bird and here I was making this great statement – about some fucking sheila!”

Resultado:

Comments
10 Responses to “O homem, o gênio”
  1. Tatiana disse:

    [COMENTÁRIO CENSURADO POR ATVIDADE SUPEREGÓICA]

  2. LFTorres disse:

    “O HOMEM, O GÊNIO, O TOPETE”

  3. Sérgio disse:

    Gênio??Não existe Gênio, ei acorde…

  4. LFTorres disse:

    Existe, sim. O Aladin encontrou um, uma vez.

  5. o primogênito disse:

    pelo título do post, pensei que fosse uma autobiografia.
    que susto…

  6. PanoramaofEndtimes disse:

    se fosse um post a respeito do meu pau seria: “o homem (flecha para cima) – A Lenda (flecha para baixo)”

  7. Tiago, é LENDA. Não LÊNDIA.

    Aiai. Reminiscências.

  8. LFTorres disse:

    Lembranças do jardim da infância?

  9. Ferrari disse:

    Tiago copiando uma camiseta.

    Quer dizer que se tu esfregar a casa do Capitão Caverna ele te realiza desejos??

  10. nythamar disse:

    Cool, Fab, very cool indeed! These clips (particularly the first one) reminded me of a former professor I had in Aix-en-Provence, while I did my Masters in theology. This English bloke from Liverpool, P. W., went to school with John Lennon and, besides theology, he was completely crazy about football (I mean, real football -–soccer, of course!), whisky, and rock’n’roll! We became close friends, smoked cigars and listened to Bod Zimmerman’s records together. PW wrote a book on Dylan’s poetry and his interpretation of Christianity –I recall that I only partially agreed with him. Now I realize that there are many other books about Dylan’s philosophical incursions, including one by Axel Honneth and one that came out in 2006, “Bob Dylan and philosophy: it’s alright, ma (I’m only thinking),” edited by Peter Vernezze and Carl J. Porter (I was curious: did you come across this book?) At any rate, your post surprised me, so I spontaneously offer you a few silly thoughts –starting with Nick Cave’s lyrics.
    “Far From Me”

    For you dear, I was born
    For you I was raised up
    For you I’ve lived and for you I will die
    For you I am dying now
    You were my mad little lover
    In a world where everybody fucks everybody else over
    You who are so far from me
    Far from me
    So far from me
    Way across some cold neurotic sea
    Far from me

    I would talk to you of all matter of things
    With a smile you would reply
    Then the sun would leave your pretty face
    And you’d retreat from the front of your eyes
    I keep hearing that you’re doing best
    I hope your heart beats happy in your infant breast
    You are so far from me
    Far from me
    Far from me

    There is no knowledge but i know it
    There’s nothing to learn from that vacant voice
    That sails to me across the line
    From the ridiculous to the sublime
    It’s good to hear you’re doing so well
    But really can’t you find somebody else that you can ring and tell
    Did you ever
    Care for me?
    Were you ever
    There for me?
    So far from me

    You told me you’d stick by me
    Through the thick and through the thin
    Those were your very words
    My fair-weather friend
    You were my brave-hearted lover
    At the first taste of trouble went running back to mother
    So far from me
    Far from me
    Suspended in your bleak and fishless sea
    Far from me
    Far from me

    “Far from me” is probably about getting disillusioned, fucked-up and lost in love relationships, but it may as well stand for the God experience overall. Who is this damn person “so far from me,” if not God qua the Wholly Other –so far from me, yet so near, this fair-weather friend, our neighbor, our lover? Even if he meant someone else (one of his thousand lovers), Nick Cave’s quest sounds somewhat like Bob Dylan’s odyssey –hence their human, all-too-human genius. I like Kant’s view of the genius as a godlike, beautiful creator who gives spirit (Geist) to her creations: “Genius is the innate mental predisposition (ingenium) through which nature gives the rule to art.” Thus Mozart, Beethoven, and Bach create rules out of the blue, as it were, in a sense that Newton and Einstein could not have created this interesting harmony between nature and our rational understanding of things. I think that Kant here breaks away from the Platonic assumption that the beautiful and the true, along with the good, are one and the same. This is of course very debatable, and it gets even more intriguing if we try to make sense of the Hebrew idea of God as the good. To my mind, this is precisely what is at stake here, namely: given our existential finitude, one’s quest for truth (like Dylan’s, Nietzsche’s and other Godseekers’) comes down to the quest for the Other (in Adorno’s formula, the nostalgia for the Other –who never shows up, it’s just like waiting for Godot). The two temptations lie at the extremes: either to name this “Other” or to assert that there is no fucking other.
    Cheers,
    N

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