Don't see the cathedral, be the cathedral

That whole thing I wrote the other day about the savory and the sweet; it's been buzzin around in my cabbage. What was I thinking? Why was I thinking it? But then it hit me; I was goin' back and kickin' it truly Old School: Plato. My conversation was an echo of one of those big epistimological Steel Cage Matches that's be goin' on for, literally, millenia. But I'm not here now to talk about that. God knows I could bather on here for way too long! No, what I'm here to say is that I'm very happy I wrote that post, and a few days later, saw why I did what I did. This is the way I've always wanted to read and think. They're not books to me, they're friends who are in the process of a long beatdown of the stupid out of me. I'm not even sure I like people who "read books." Don't go through the University of Paint Booth and get a nice baked-on enamel of culture. If it's any good at all, it's got to make you destroyed, disfunctional,dangerous. Let it do all that and then make it your own! Sand off what sticks out, polish it, buff it, weld this onto that to make you one of those, and fall in love with that. Keep doing that until you can't keep doing that anymore. Flood over your banks like the Nile, just give it away, out of raw excess. You can't keep it in any longer, you've got a hundred children to father all at once, and hording is for nerds. Then one day you wake up and realize you haven't "read Kant," Kant is this part of you over here, more attached to you than your pinky. You don't refer to your pinky by some external name do you? Of course not! My point -- exactly.