In the end, there can no more philosophy, Livia said, we remember. No one can believe in philosophy. Just like no one can believe in God.
A negative philosophy – like negative theology: that’s what we had to think. Where philosophy became apophatic. Where it’s all about what it’s not.
Or even better: a not-yet philosophy – or not even philosophy, Livia said. Philosophy that has forgotten that it’s doing philosophy. Or perhaps philosophy that doesn’t know it’s philosophy.
Amnesiac philosophy. Philosophy that doesn’t know itself as philosophy. That hasn’t woken up to itself, not yet. That hadn’t gotten onto the serious business of doing philosophy.
Philosophy, daydreaming. Woolgathering. Philosophy too distracted to be philosophy. Philosophy that had forgotten what it was supposed to be doing.
Lazy philosophy, humming to itself. Philosophy, writing a poem. The idiot cousin of philosophy, that had been bashed on the head. Which had cartoon tweety birds turning all around it.
Work in Progress 