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Simeon Wade’s Followers (2)
Simeon Wade
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Foucault in California [A True Story—Wherein the Great French Philosopher Drops Acid in the Valley of Death]
by
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published
2019
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23 editions
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
“I love California,' he reiterated many times. 'You live in one of the choice places on earth.' He continually stressed how much he liked the variety and experimentation in lifestyles, as well as the marvelous climate, which allows people to stay in touch with the body, to literally see the body.
'And you have such intellectual freedom and vitality here,' he said. 'Ideological dogma and partisanship are still so rampant in France that compared to California we live in France under an intellectual reign of terror.”
― Foucault in California [A True Story—Wherein the Great French Philosopher Drops Acid in the Valley of Death]
'And you have such intellectual freedom and vitality here,' he said. 'Ideological dogma and partisanship are still so rampant in France that compared to California we live in France under an intellectual reign of terror.”
― Foucault in California [A True Story—Wherein the Great French Philosopher Drops Acid in the Valley of Death]
“Grass is very hard to come by in Paris, but I smoke hash whenever I can get hold of some. We have been in good supply recently, thanks to Noam Chomsky.'
'How did that happen?' I asked.
'I appeared with Chomsky on TV in Amsterdam, and after the show the sponsors of the program asked me what kind of remuneration I would like. I told them that I would like some hashish, and happily they complied with my wish with a large block of the stuff. My students and I refer to it as the Chomsky hash, not because Chomsky himself had anything to do with it but because he occasioned it.”
― Foucault in California [A True Story—Wherein the Great French Philosopher Drops Acid in the Valley of Death]
'How did that happen?' I asked.
'I appeared with Chomsky on TV in Amsterdam, and after the show the sponsors of the program asked me what kind of remuneration I would like. I told them that I would like some hashish, and happily they complied with my wish with a large block of the stuff. My students and I refer to it as the Chomsky hash, not because Chomsky himself had anything to do with it but because he occasioned it.”
― Foucault in California [A True Story—Wherein the Great French Philosopher Drops Acid in the Valley of Death]
“Just a few nights ago the roaring fire prompted a conversation about Gaston Bachelard's Psychoanalysis of Fire,' I said to Foucault. 'Did you by any chance know Bachelard?'
'Yes, I did,' Foucault responded. 'He was my teacher and exerted a great influence upon me.'
'I can just visualize Bachelard musing before his hearth and devising the startling thesis that mankind tamed fire to stimulate his daydreaming, that man is fundamentally the dreaming animal.'
'Not really,' Foucault blurted out. 'Bachelard probably never saw a fireplace or ever listened to water streaming down a mountainside. With him it was all a dream. He lived very ascetically in a cramped two-room flat he shared with his sister.'
'I have read somewhere that he was a gourmet and would shop every day in the street markets to get the freshest produce for his dinner.'
'Well, he undoubtedly shopped in the outdoor markets,' Foucault responded impatiently, 'but his cuisine, like his regimen, was very plain. He led a simple life and existed in his dream.'
'Do you shop in the outdoor markets in Paris?' Jake asked Michel.
'No,' Foucault laughed, 'I just go to the supermarket down the street from where I live.”
― Foucault in California [A True Story—Wherein the Great French Philosopher Drops Acid in the Valley of Death]
'Yes, I did,' Foucault responded. 'He was my teacher and exerted a great influence upon me.'
'I can just visualize Bachelard musing before his hearth and devising the startling thesis that mankind tamed fire to stimulate his daydreaming, that man is fundamentally the dreaming animal.'
'Not really,' Foucault blurted out. 'Bachelard probably never saw a fireplace or ever listened to water streaming down a mountainside. With him it was all a dream. He lived very ascetically in a cramped two-room flat he shared with his sister.'
'I have read somewhere that he was a gourmet and would shop every day in the street markets to get the freshest produce for his dinner.'
'Well, he undoubtedly shopped in the outdoor markets,' Foucault responded impatiently, 'but his cuisine, like his regimen, was very plain. He led a simple life and existed in his dream.'
'Do you shop in the outdoor markets in Paris?' Jake asked Michel.
'No,' Foucault laughed, 'I just go to the supermarket down the street from where I live.”
― Foucault in California [A True Story—Wherein the Great French Philosopher Drops Acid in the Valley of Death]
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