Skip to main content

Knowledge Versus Experience


“The only source of knowledge is experience.” –Albert Einstein

I sit in class and hear the unsure tittering of my classmates in response to the esoteric allusions to John Cage’s 4’33”, “Bartleby the Scrivener”, and The Lady from Shanghai. There is considerably less waving of the hands, shouting “Pick me! Pick me! I know the answer Mr. Prichard!” We sit in silence, and every once in a while—after severe awkwardness—someone will posit a theory, a theory so ambiguous and well, theoretical, that it circumnavigates all scrutiny due to its pure unintelligibility. Anything goes when you sound smart.

The more books you’ve read, the more names of artists you’ve memorized, the more you feign aficion for Tom Waits or Guilluame de Machaut, the better your professors will love you.

Memorizing works and quotes and formulas invented by others is only one aspect of becoming a seasoned intellectual. Limitless and instantaneous access to information via the internet, radio, television, print, cell-phone, texting—pick your poison—has made fools of us. An illusion of “knowing” has plagued newer generations of students identifying with high culture. Alternate forms of communication are handicapping people. A mass social retardation is taking place as we retreat into our plush and secure microcosms. State parks are shutting down as Guitar Hero morphs into its newer version Myspace, a place where you don’t have to face your fears i.e. respond immediately to communication, is literally retarding—slowing down—the development of social skills.

How many friends do you have? Does your relationship mainly consist of texting and trading myspace/facebook comments? Do you dislike talking on the phone? When is the last time you hung out with your friends? Did you drink? Did you alter your state of mind to allay the fear and implications of having organic human interaction? Do people look at you in the eyes during conversation? Do you find your friends to be rather flaky assholes who can’t commit to Friday night?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I sometimes think that happiness is a personal responsibility. But what happens, then, if you can’t figure out what makes you happy? They are fleeting moments cushioned between the mundane and obscene. If I had to describe happiness regarding the big picture, abdicating all of the material pleasures life can offer, it’s merely to be understood. For me, art, and relationships--romantic or not--tend to be the main geyser for such a feeling. When I’m understood, my existence is validated. When your existence is validated, it temporarily quells the sometimes dormant, sometimes active yearning to know why in the fuck we are here. I think about my existence so far… I am navigating the path of the American dream. Subscribing to this path, I feel, sometimes, is an addiction to the illusion of stability, when life really comes down to chance. Or does it? I feel sickened by how much of my knowledge is theoretical. How can I understand ...
2 comments
Read more

"Where do you see yourself 5 years from now?"

It’s been too long since I’ve written. I definitely feel corroded synaptic connections. I have been getting reacquainted with myself lately—with the person I was before I had to build a wall to dart about behind, like a meerkat, shooting arrows of cynicism from the safety of my hate turret. I have come to realize the existence of a fortress in my heart—and like the natives who could not see the Spanish ships approaching shore, I have been in complete fear and utter disbelief of its presence. My mission is to see with eyes unclouded by hate and venture out into this wild, wild world. The only constant is change—therefore, the future is science fiction, right? Five years ago I wouldn’t have believed the present. Would you have? Take a minute to gnaw on that. The things that I have experienced over the last 5 years, both good and bad, would be too inconceivable. I would have told you, exhaustively, however, about my desperation for the tangible: I want to live somewhere s...
Post a Comment
Read more