Sleepwalking my way through life: Regurgitating 500 year old philosophers

Regurgitating 500 year old philosophers

I know in darkness I will find you giving up inside like me.” Fletch quoted, holding his headphones ot one ear.

“How poetic.”

“Darkness; it’s a metaphor.” He said, ignoring me. “He says as the sun is born the sun shall die. Darkness is him talking about the death of the sun, which leads to the death of everything; therefore death.”

“No.” I said in mid yawn. “You’re forgetting something. He says as the sun is born the sun shall die, and every day will end as it began or something. He’s saying that darkness is the only certainty. Darkness doesn’t come and go, it’s just there. And besides, he says he finds comfort in it and I don’t think he’d find comfort in death.”

“Oh snap.” He got up and walked to the window. “I forgot, you’re an English major.”

I laughed. “Damn straight. Never mess with a guy who has a pass in Advanced English behind him.” I stretched out and suppressed another yawn. It was late, and I should have really been in bed. Fletch remained by the window; the yellow streetlamps reflecting off his unmoving glasses. “But anyway, it's still open for discussion.”

“I used to fail at metaphors and their meanings. But to be honest, how I see it is how it is for me. It’s the truth as I see it, so for me it is the truth and my individual conception of the song.”

I clicked on to a different page on my Lapdancer. “Like I said earlier, to each his own.”

“Yeah, but it’s probably the reason that I was no good in English.”

I looked up at him, still staring out the window. “Apparently there are no wring answers in English. My English teacher told me that.” I paused for a moment, looking at the screen, “You know, right before she failed my essay. I don’t know, maybe some answers are righter than others.”

“I don’t like that they teach a definitive answer to a question which itself really has no definitive answer. A definitive answer has no question, that’s subjective. And if you think about human existence, then there is no right answer to everything; only whichever answer is decided by the most people or by the people with the most power.”

“Two plus two, there's a definitive answer to that.”

“Kind of, but not really. Only because mathematicians at first said two shall represent one and one of the same together and 4 shall represent one and one of these two's.” He began walking around the room, his hands and face becoming more animated as he continued. “Two doesn't really exist; you cant hold it, touch it, smell it, hear it-”

“But you can represent it.” I say, but he doesn’t hear me.”

“So if it doesn’t exist, how can it 2 of it exist to make 4, which also doesn’t exist?”

“But you can represent it.” I repeat.

“It still doesn’t exist. It is a representation, you’re right about that. But it doesn’t exist. A thought, on the other hand, is the only thing you can say exists, because no matter if everything around you is fake, you need to exist to experience that thought, even if the thought is put there by someone else.”

“Fletch, it’s one o’clock in the morning!”

“Shh,” he said as he stopped and turned to me, arms open as if welcoming the sudden realisation. “So the existence of anything else is insignificant, only the property of the thought is insignificant. Say it being a number, there is no proof that what you are thinking is real or not; just that you are thinking it.”

He stopped, a smile on his face and his eyes gleaming with the light of an epiphany. I looked up at him with bewildered wonderment.

“And you have just convinced me of the merit of "I think, therefore I am"”

He set off round the room again, waving his arms happily, “The subject of a thought is insignificant, but in order to have this thought you must exist. The thought itself can be false, it can be an illusion but its existence cannot be an illusion, because if the thought did not exist, then you would not exist to have it. A thought needs to exist somewhere, thus it exists within your mind; your mind is you. Thus you must exist. Right?”

“Fletch, it’s one o’clock in the fucking morning!”

And this, ladies and gentlemen, spurred a three hour long philosophical debate that climaxed at the conclusion that non-existence exists, and that 1a+0=1a.
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At 7:31 pm, Anonymous Marie said...'s like he's the Descartes of the 21st century. Go fletch for (kind of) understanding 1st year university philosophy!


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