Real Time
So I suppose right now somewhere in the middle of London (where is the ICA, anyway? I forget. Piccadilly? Bedford Square? next to Hatchard’s? I have no idea) some people (how many, I wonder? fifty? a hundred? two?) are listening to three or four guys talking about truth. I wonder what they’re saying about it. That it can be hard to get at, perhaps. That it’s in a well. That Bacon named an essay after it. That it’s not a bad thing to aim at, on the whole. That people who play certain public roles have a particular obligation to aim at it, and to avoid aiming at the other thing. That it’s just a matter of common sense, when you get right down to it. No, not that last one, that one’s a joke.
Well, I hope they’re all enjoying themselves, at any rate.
Ophelia: The ICA is on The Mall, close to Trafalgar Square.
OB, should that comment have been in green text?
Thanks Allen. Rings a bell now. I looked it up once, then promptly forgot.
Mike, heh. No, that wasn’t an envy-riddled post, just a contemplation of the fact that it was 11:30ish in the morning here etc. I would have loved to be there though, you’re right about that! But in the audience. Not anywhere else. No no. Listening, not talking.