Losing Interest in Discussing Philosophy With Others

Ive learned over the years to keep ideas to myself. Most of my philosophical ideas Ive rarely revealed or debated… a awkward dichotomy between what I work on, and what I discuss openly.

Several years have passed since Ive openly dedicated myself to philosophy. Im noticing the things I most focus on are barely even touched by others. I was reading Deleuze and Badiou stuck in the rut on mathematics… and it was stuff I passed by as a ignorant child. My conscious, continued attraction to my earliest thoughts as my authority and light of comparison to the present seems to continiously make my ideas more and more distant from others.

Its at times as if Iwas from a different civilization all together, and learned to grow up and adapt to this strange society around me. Its problems… the vocalized ones at least, are rarely my own. I usually am distant from its prejudice… I have my own, and because of constraints of a same language am constricted to phrases that impose ideological meaning not of my own adherence, but am forced to use them for the sake of brevity.

I say ten things in the space of one, then pass on out of the cinversation. Increasingly disinclined to even talk… always more of the same. I note Pezer noted my unwillingness to discuss God directly as a example. I have good tabboos for doing so, ancient and well justified at that… but also because its boring the living daylights out of me. Its always the same person in the same skin with similar assumptions. Ive seen them young and old, different creeds they reject or accept. Came to the conclusion God ain’t got nothing to do with it… if a society could be imagined without a concept of the divine, something would fill that space in mens minds, and it would be attacked by means of poor ligic and limited reasoning as now.

I know what you mean. I think its the walls. :-k

On a more serious note. I bet most intellectuals/thinkers feel the same way.

As we move from our centre and further and further into the expanding bubbles in our mind, I think we feel increasingly isolated from others. Sometimes I picture this mental process like the expanding universe… expanding in all directions… and forever moving away from each other… locked in bubbles of thought.

There’s a reason real Zen masters don’t engage the mind in its never ending mental games and there’s a reason they and the original mystery schools kept secrets. It wasn’t to hide anything. It was because once you brought the experience of being into the mental plane, it’s translated into symbols (words), cut up, dissected, turned inside out and eventually killed in the process.

Even with more earthly concepts and experiences, it’s just not worth it.

I hate this nook… wont let me scroll down in the text box, so if I go back to correct a spelling mistake, I cant return to the bottom to resume… must either delete or post as there is no copy and paste either.

Anyway… its well beyond just a rejection of current noobs crying about theology. I can accept great insight, but it usually doesn’t happen. I find myself restricted to a ever smaller network of people worth sharing ideas with… and even here, I usually just introduce a idea lightly without going that deep into its interconnections.

I am… wondering why I bother to talk to others though. I had a few people interested in my ideas, and I fled from them, moving to Hawaii in part. Its always just in part… I never have just one reason. I see the same laws and the same original personalities seeking to break them. You get a feel for this… for the range of behavior… old laws dissappear and new ones of controlling and manipulating them appears. But then… after a while… why bother. Ive seen this guy thitry times over. No matter the race, he comes out the carbon copy same each time. Humans are colonial nest builders, like ants. We replicate systems everywhere. Men become very common in the eyes of one who travels after a while. Same for intellectuals. Even the blaise is triggered much the same… substitute the category, only noting that stimuli and categorical identification has to occur… whatever its form and merit, to unleash its cascades. Its substance effects it of course, with nuance change… but its always the fucking same it seems now.

I am less and less fascinated with the uniqueness of my ideas. It was a burden I sought to strategically unload in the right spot, the right people before dissapearing. Now… I am increasingly thinking why. Im becoming a carnival event, a host and a attraction. A substitute priest for atheist dealing with mundane problems. Usually massaging egos and explaining psychological complexes they have, a little psycho babble, a few quotes, perhaps a suggested reading. Then quietness. Im moving on. Im that guy… That Guy… wandering in and out of others consciousness, playing the part of their inner voice they themselves would hear if they were more honest and sincere.

I know the route to depression and chemical addictions to newness. A voyeur to the fantastic. Yes, its in the back of your head reading this… it has a part in play, but I do have a considerable amount of control over it, and warn others of it often. My divide… it predates this, and is not entropic to it, but does mingles in paralell of similar funtions sustaining them. The next to final portion of the math is ptocessed similarly enough.

My ideas do not match up with that of the world around me. I hate inspiring others face to face… seeing them get excited, only to have to be the harbinger of bad news and rip their world view in half once I explain the gravity of the new information. Its losing its appeal. I have three biographies written about me, afraid to search for a single one. Bullshit stories inside… each one with the few facts not in overlap…so literally three different fake people in the eye of the beholder writing whatever is their fancy. Just dont tell me. Why? The build of their fascination stands opposite of my increasing disintrest. No… from now on I am saying no. I want no more personal question. No more fascination with rarity of character and intellect. I wish to be invisible. The cognitive senses of self, which voids from them am I trying to find refuge to hide from this.

I increasingly… just dont care to discuss the things inside that matters most. I am speaking to cadavers. I am brutally conscious of my mortality. I am like a old man… watching this life pass buy. I take risky jabs at conquering the unbelievable possibilities others fear but fantasize. They think… I go. Now… Ive been there so many times, and Im looking back… at mostly sleepy or wide eyed crowds, most oblivious, some wide eyed… and I can only notice the fact Im looking back. BACK??? What is there anymore for me? My ball and chain duty? I become a macabre phantom without adherence to them. If I play my fiddle loudly, hated and glorified by people I dont honestly relate to… once perhaps, still at times even, but less and less everyday. A trained monkey going through my paces. A sideshow attraction for the bored and easily impressed, and ever more closted, and hidden. I give a pearl of wisdom and hide the diamonds… too gaudy this world. This in and of itself is my upmost point of disgust, for there is a strong moral sense of self that hates this chasm in my introspection and behavior externally. But its the cage I hoestly find myself trappen in more and more. No place to go, to carry it and release. My one continious companion and friut of my labors. Ephemeral… splended, thus macabre.

There are no such thing as Zen Masters, its a inheret oxymoron. On one level, we are supposedly all emptiness. We dont sit zen, zen sits us is the saying.

The other reason… its inherent bullshit. The dialectic of being to negation of being never quite grasped the introverted-extroverted axis in relation to judgement and perceiving. The theories are unbalanced and most variable here, though the related one… internal and external reality is well trodded over. In terms of evolution its rather obvious how they relate… all that focus on a frog like nature… yet no contemplation as to why it croaks in its non being.

Communication is the key. Zen has yet mastered the frog, and if yet to embrace the song of the morning birds. I can just barely see this possibility in the horizon.

Once you realize that all thought, all writing, all speech is symbolic representation and not experience, then one is caught in the schizoid necessity of language -vs- experience. Does this isolate us? Yes-No. As social creatures, we are compelled to communicate and the act of communication can be called an ‘experience’. But the content of communication is always about experience and not experience itself. And so we flip back and forth between communicating and experiencing. Only the few know the difference even as they participate in all the yammering, writing, and introspection. Sentience IS schizophrenia.

“Silence is Truth”

Tenative, non dualist schools of Monistic Advaita do this already. Its solipism in word games is strictly left hemi play. Easy to flank, Ive done it dozens of times.

But that is simply outsmarting yourself, which I guess is OK. Letting all the ‘intellectual’ bullshit go isn’t easy, and holding on to it for more than a few minutes or hours is even more difficult. I’ve said this so many times I’m sick of it: There is a difference between being, and being as. The problem with saying this is it’s too fucking simple.

Perhaps the issue is less losing interest in discussing philosophy and more about losing interest in living it?

Its not outsmarting yourself, its taking a census of your cognition, and systemmatically testing its range against known theory of minds, and examining how movements such as non dualism argues against language and encourages visual perception. Its a lot of effort, but once you make a few connections, rapid progression as you realize how stupid simple it is to check, challenge, prove or contradict their statements as valid or false. Its not out smarting, its mapping out your expereinces. Where your being is known like the treads of a harp… and can be played as such. Each understanding is a build towards a buddhist conception of emptiness. Its not a factor of intelligence, but correct realization of what your conscious realizations are. Nothing mystical or religious about this. Its just you. Barely even philosophical… we currently are running on a 150 year psychology fad in philosophy. Many think thats all it is.

I suspect that we would find mostly agreement with perhaps a few quibbles, but my ‘outsmart yourself’ is taking the step beyond, where in daily practice, one forgets all this and simply participates in the act of becoming. Heightened awareness and all it brings is nothing special and it most certainly doesn’t make us anything special. Like any tool, awareness is useful, but only to the extent that we focus on using it, not just having it.

So yes, discussing philosophy becomes entertainment, not the end-all be-all of living. The focus is meant to be making each and every experience meaningful. Where others are on their journey may be interesting (as entertainment), but are part of the field, not the focus. So losing interest in discussing philosophy? Of course. That leads me back to what I stated earlier: “silence is truth”

Why can’t we establish a decent mocked-mocker relationship? Have you become unsure of that which allows you to mock?

I am at my depth when talking about things like this, but it seems to me that FilmSnob was right, before he changed his picture----as usual, he just doesn’t expand on his insights. Let me try to do that. It seems to me like you have your eyes turned around backwards. Nothing wrong with that for intervals of 48 hours or something like that. But if you can hear slow piano music, wine and whining, in everything you say, then you need to turn them outwards again. What might help are slutty women. They would have to be slightly overweight and not especially attractive. If they aren’t, you’ll be inclined to get into your guru mindset as a way of flattering whatever you see when your eyes are backward. Which is part of the problem. And whatever sex is had should be unprotected, to give you something to worry about other than not having decent friends. Pull out. The key to my advice is the suggestion that it’s all about balance, and that it’s possible to spend too much time in the realm of ideas. But as I said, I am at my depth here…

It ain’t easy being cheesy.

I honestly just don’t feel I know what makes this guy really tick, or maybe I think I do but I don’t want to even go there. So I refrain from honest advice. I just hope he becomes fun again.

The more you think yourself away from the average mindset, the less people you can meaningfully talk to about it.

Actually, it’s kinda a sign of success, or complete insanity. Whichever.

I can only speak from my experience, but a few years ago I just kinda lost interest in
talking to people. I had nothing to say. I didn’t care to carry on the bullshit little talk that
so interest people. I even stopped talking to long time friends and one of over 30 years
because I had nothing to say to them. conversation now is almost painful because I just
don’t care enough to carry on that crap conversation people feel the need to have.
So I have basically found my self friendless and I don’t even care. I write my book and
I devote myself totally to writing. If I take time away from writing, I actually get mad.
work is on the rampage about some new crap policy and they are threatening to demote or fire
anybody who doesn’t comply and I just ignore them, because its just not that important to me.
I studied Philosophy for over 30 years and now I don’t even read anymore. I have 4000 books collecting dust
because I devote myself to my writing and only my writing. People ask me what my book is about and I don’t
have the interest to tell them, so I make up some bull and try to get them to go away. Leave me the hell alone,
that is basically my motto these day.


You remind me of the character Joseph Grand, from Albert Camus’ The Plague. Have you made it past the first sentence of your manuscript?

Mo:You remind me of the character Joseph Grand, from Albert Camus’ The Plague.
Have you made it past the first sentence of your manuscript?"

K: finished first book and at present, shopping it around to publishers and agents.
No bites yet, but this takes time and at present writing second follow up book.
It took over 4 years to write the first book so no rush in either second book or getting published.


Shopping it around must be tough, when you don’t like talking about it…

Oh well.


I lost my interest when I graduated with a undergrad in philosophy. I realized a) everything said here is not even philosophy, and b) philosophy is largely useless and almost everyone in society gets mad or uncomfortable when you think philosophically.

So it became: why come here to engage in non/kiddie pool level philosophy? I remember I used to post different excerpts from my essays and no one had heard of the people inwas referencing. It got dull quick.