for Desirée
You read Wittgenstein (his works), but can I assume that you have thoughts while you read his text, or am I to assume that you read Wittgenstein (his works) with such intent concentration that no thoughts of your so-called own arise while you read him (his works), that no primordial gap opens between his words from which your so-called own thoughts spontaneously arise, out of emptiness, or out of the emptiness of Wittgenstein’s text — every word, genius empty stuff! — and as I construe the phenomenon (your reading of Wittgenstein (his works)), that, namely, the latter, the pure reading, the reading sans editorial commentary, the empty clarity of deep listening, the perfect hollowness of perfect understanding, that would be the transcendental experience, yes? no? maybe so?; nevertheless, when I learn you read Wittgenstein (his works), I am impressed by that, by what?, by the possibility of this, of your, so-called pure reading, and/or by the possibility of your so-called independent thoughts arising as you read — it occurs to me suddenly that if we give up the proverbial ghost, if we absolutely let go of duality, then it’s all the same, in other words, all thoughts in all minds at all times... (I am not afraid of the possibility of nonsense, or truth in nonsense, or nonsense in truth!) — nevertheless, I am compelled (why?) to ask you what you so-called think of, say, his essay, The Inner and the Outer (which I like), I am curious about, in plain words, your interpretation (why?), why? one might ask, well, mostly because I trust your capacity for sincerity and truthfulness, and this dialogue (in which I have faith) gives us movement (which I desire, deeply, in the cells of my body, in the gears of my being) and so it happens, and so we read, and so I beg, without purpose or center or end.... Anyhow, have you read that one? (it reminded me mostly of Ken Wilber (his works)), the one that says, “If a lion could talk, we would not understand him.”
