Monday, December 15, 2008

item #0792

I live in a village within a large city, wreathed in the commemorations of others. Different regimes commemorate differently. I accept that. You fought for war. I did not. Because of this, I will walk upon your early grave. For my own part, I am a scientist. This morning, I was a participant in a professional discussion. We all had unusual expectations. I stuck out as a kind of behaviourist; because I believe, briefly, that imagination cannot adequately work out the recognitions with which we franchise the future. Imagining, that is to say, is a kind of Modernity, a kind of fantasy; necessarily utopian in so being. I do feel other methodologies are suspect on this issue; but, really, I am no detective. Our discussion drifted towards an experiment on an animal; during which we sought to desensitise this subject - partly with confrontation, and our own strong feelings. It was held firmly from both sides, until responses emerged. One of us closed its eyes down, freeing it temporarily. The experiment was way ahead. No general problems emerged.


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