“The past and present wilt—I have fill’d them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.
Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.
Who has done his day’s work? who will soonest be through with his supper?
Who wishes to walk with me?
Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?”
-Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”
a. fleshbag is contradiction.
it is a creature for whom paradox is essential.
it is fluid and solid, intimate and aloof, sorry and unapologetic.
it is everything and nothing.
one question that won’t leave me alone, though:
what does Kantian autonomy look like, in the flesh?