Logocentrism

[Muchasmasgracias at cs.com]

The points you raise below are hefty, and I won't pretend that I can resolve 
them.  Still, just because categories don't have rigid borders (I agree they 
don't) that doesn't mean you can't use them to get a foothold in 
conversation.  This whole deal about radical linguistic skepticism is very 
mesmerizing (whether it's Derrida or Quine), but still we frequently 
communicate with each other with the sense that we are referring to "things", 
and that's not a philosophical crime.  We don't have to provide the 
functional explanation of how language works every time we use it.  Pynchon 
writes fiction and it makes sense to say so, whereas Derrida writes 
nonfiction and it makes sense to say that too.  Unless I can't find anybody 
to talk to by going on like that.  


In a message dated 6/19/00 11:02:28 AM Pacific Daylight Time, wonk at ohsu.edu 
writes:

<< Subj:     Re: Logocentrism
 Date:  6/19/00 11:02:28 AM Pacific Daylight Time
 From:  wonk at ohsu.edu (Kevin Won)
 To:    Muchasmasgracias at cs.com
 
 >>> <Muchasmasgracias at cs.com> 06/17 10:56 PM >>> wrote:
 
 And as far as Derrida being similar to Pynchon, I think there is a huge 
 difference between choosing to write philosophical tracts and writing 
 fiction.  Like categorically huge, if you're somebody who's into speaking in 
 terms of categories in the first place.  Who's more likely to have a 
 discussion in terms of categories between a literary novelist and a literary 
 theorist?  Categories are skeletal, death-like, no flesh at all so what's 
the 
 point unless you've got some hang-up with perfectability.  
 
 ------------snip
 
 Its funny how we continue to talk about categories.  It seems like the whole 
notion of PM is how constructed and artificial these babies really are 
anyhow, how silly and posturing, how vain.  What I love about Derrida is his 
reincarnation of the Nietzschian dance--like, "I'm playful fiction! no, hold 
on, I'm serious philosophy!"  Very silly stuff that sort of rubs the nose of 
perfection into the smelly refuse of its lack of humility.   I mean, look at 
Nietzsche:  at what point in the late 19th century do we ascribe his texts as 
meaningless gibberish from a feeble mind?  And on what grounds?  In the same 
vein, at what point do we start to consider fiction fiction and non, non?  
and on what grounds?
 
 kevin
 
 
 
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