I presented my presentation on Husserl this afternoon and by all appearances it went well. Being the scattered rhizome(d) thinker that I am, sort of like Joseph K on PCP, I needed lots of prompting to stay the line, and no little direction to remain directed. On the bus, not the British comedy, but in real-time life, I came across the following idea: we, as the transcendental-subjective-ego, reveal ourselves to the world, not the world to us; in saying this I was as precariously close to phenomenological blasphemy as one can come without turning, transmogrifying, into a rhetorical blabbering idiot, a Sartrean savant. Now having said this, this at all this, I find myself dangerously close to the phenomenological horizon, that no-mans-land where philosophers who have out-lived their usefulness live, a bedlam Foucault wouldn’t have dared step foot in; not, of course, unless it had a bath, warm steamy towels, too. So to recapitulate, we have the psychological-ego, that by which we perceive and sense the world, and on the other side of the Husserl coin we have the transcendental-subjective-ego, or, as Husserl put it, pure experience. As I am a relatively new convert to phenomenology, I will stick with the scattered or split-off ego, my ego-less-ego. Phenomenology is like riding a bicycle with no hands, feet, eyes, ears or sense of smell, and as such, and by all appearances, naive, but fun nonetheless.
