Firing-up the cortices
Yes, it’s been a long time since I have written in my Blurty. I’ve been too busy having a life to take time for writing about the life I’d wish. Two weeks ago, I unwittingly began a rite-of-passage. Everybody knows I’ve been "starting over again" since the beginning of last summer, when my body rebelled against me, and circumstances colluded to make me face my dreams, demons, and desires…
But all of that is much too formal and way too fucking intellectual. It probably represents the contents of my over-active, over-working, over-amping brain; but it ain’t nowehere near what my gut says. Not really. My gut has much higher standards for honesty and integrity. I’m a much better person in my gut than I ever could expect to become n my brain. Funny, huh? While they’re just getting to know me, people generally remark my "brilliance" first, and it’s only later that thy realize how "down-to-earth" I really am. Funny, because it’s the opposite of the way I regard and value myself. I really ought to find some way to reverse the presentation and representation, so that my brilliance sort-of gradually overtakes people, and they discover it while they’re commuting, stuck in traffic at the 5/805 merge, listening to a Norah Jones song on the radio, and it just kinda hits them: "Wow, that sumbitch really is one smart motherfucker, huh? Damn, never really noticed, but he is really one smart sumbitch. He got one helluva set of cortices on him, don’t ‘e?"
You can tell I barely escaped the academic world with my values intact, because it’s those academic assholes who make the tragic, often fatal mistake of confusing cortices and intellects and degreees and diplomas with balls. Sorry, boys and girls, but it just don’t work that way. We see a prime example of the contrast and confusion in this week’s confirmation hearings for sweet little Condie, George’s bitch. Okay, of course, I have the Berkeley bias: For the sake of this discussion, let it be true that Berkeley runs on pure principles of democracy whereas Standford runs on some kind of noblesse oblige. For the sake of this discussion, let it be true that Barbara Boxer arrives as the avatar of Berkeley, and, of course, Condie represents Stanford. What’s with the hair, Condie? African American women everywhere wanna regard you as a role model, but you gotta do something with that mid-fifties, cleaning lady hair. It’s just too distracting, and it really subverts your credibility, your plausibility as a sterling example for aspiring black women and debutantes. Barbara takes her shot: "You’ve lost your respect for the truth in your zeal to sell the war." Condie responds, "Please, don’t impugn my character." It’s a fucking miracle I even know how to spell "impugn." It’s a GRE word—from the Latin word for "fight," like "pugnacious." Does anybody really care about the Latin root? Most importantly, however, Condie’s response misses the point—the worst thing an esteemed academic can do: I know, because I once was accused of "systematically and deliberately missing the point." Coulda been the story of my life. Barbara was going after the point that zeal in the President’s defense seduced Condie away from the mission of finding and standing up for the Truth. Most of Berkeley’s so-called liberalism has nothing to do with conspiracy theories or left-wing scheming; it has to do with learning and facing the Truth—pragmatic idealism, the lesson I ultimately carried away from six years of painful graduate study; the lesson never taught in a classroom. If, however, you focused too long on Condie and Barbara, you probably missed the point of this paragraph. In the hearing room, one man sat comfortably with his priorities, values, and sac all in order. Watch Joe Biden and see a smart man who knows the difference between intellect and character, cortices and testacles. Watch Joe Biden and see how conscience and intuition can lead and brains can follow; see how pragmatic idealism really can work in everyday life. Face the Truth of Condie Rice learning to face the Truth; then, work with it. Although she’s prone to selling-out for the sake of a good title, we’re pretty confident that Condie does, after all, have a conscience; let’s work toward revealing it.
I can’t run for office--not even in a blue state. No, I’m not a fellon; I’m just bi-polar, and I just have paid way too high a price for coping with my "disorder." I inhaled and forgot to exhale; I played around with the interns, and I didn’t feel remorse or the compulsion to deny it. I cannot make that little fist gesture, shake it in America’s face, and claim, "I did not…" I did, and I probably would again, because I loved… I’m impeached before I even get an office. I cannot emulate Joe Biden in any literal way, but I seek some meanigful way to emulate his principles
For a long time, I have advocated intuition’s leadership: intuition leads and intellect follows, adapting all the resources and all the thoughts to reify intuition’s prompting. That’s still way too fucking intellectual, huh? It’s also probably a sophisticated rip-off of some dumb-ass self-help book. It translates to "trust your gut, asshole! Trust your gut." Once ya got that trust goin’, then your brain falls in-line behind your intuition and things go by their own natural processes and sequences; if intuition leads, then things just work-out naturally. The halcyon’s joy came primarily from my spirit’s willingness to follow this mandate, obey this injunction, do what intuition said. In other words, during the halcyon, I was happy because I was learning to follow my gut. You’re really gotta understand that I grow just as weary of my intellectual self as anybody else does, not because I somehow loathe being smart, but because somehow being smart frequently gets in the way of being wise. I know that everybody knows that, but we all also understand the difference between knowing and experiencing. I want to vote for experience; knowledge sometimes carries the electoral vote anyway.
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