Thirty-Five

Philosophy is rare – rare. It’s only every now and again that there’s Philosophy, capital P. At other times, there’s just … commentary.

You make it sound so mysterious.

Is there Organisational Management, capital O, capital M?

There’s too much Organisational Management.

 

Thirty-five is the most terrifying age to be a would be philosopher. It’s the midnight hour, when you have to finally face up to what you are – no excuses. You’ve had enough time, post-PhD, to show your mettle. To really Do Something.

But have you really Done Something?

What do you think? Anyway, it hasn’t been a bad life. I don’t need the genius cherry on top.

But you’d like it anyway.

Sure I would.

 

So do you think, if you work hard you could be a one of the greats? Have you got what it takes?

You only find our in your mid-thirties. That’s what your mid-thirties are all about: finding out where you really stand. Who you really are. Working out your place in it all.

How long do you have left?

This is the year.

So you’re waiting to have some world-shattering insight.

I don’t know. I’m not like other guys. I like to write.

To write?

Literary stuff. Literary things. That are kind of philosophical.

Like, novels?

Kinda novels. There’s a whole genre in France. Not over here, though. Not in English.

Wow, so you have literary dreams. As well as philosophical ones.

I have literary dreams in case my philosophical ones don’t work out. I can write about my philosophical failure.

Cunning.

 

We were never any good – none of us.

So why did Cicero employ you? Why you?

Because we weren’t very good.

And are you any good at your literary philosophy?

That’s a consolation prize. That’s a booby prize.

You think you’re going to win, after all. That you’re going to capitalise on your failure to be a great philosopher.

And what will I write about: philosophy? The move of philosophy to Organisational Management?

Sure, why not?

You’re not going to amount to nothing. You’re going to write the definitive novel about philosophical failure. A sequence of novels!

 

Why do you call yourself stupid? Do you even believe in your stupidity?

What’s that supposed to mean?

How can you be stupid? Do you listen to yourself. You’re smart. You use long words.

What’s stupidity, anyway? What do you mean by it? Are there such things as stupid philosophers? Is there an anti-hierarchy?