With
us in the class (so the whispers went) was Jerry Mathers, aka “The
Beaver”, now quite silent and overweight. Hard to be an ex-child-star.
No-one ever outright asked him “Are you…?”, and he for his part was
just silent, taking few notes, so I don’t really know whether it was The
Beaver or not. And in particular, I have no juicy celebrity anecdotes
to sell. Anyhow, be well, man, wherever and whoever you were/are.
To resume.
In
the course of this class, arriving at the subject of Ontology,
Professor Searle, introducing the views of (one whom we would then have
described as) “one Meinong” (later known to his admirers as “Alexius the Great”), pronounced (in his typical, slightly nasal, “but I want to argue that…” voice, as far as can be from mysticism or reverie) the following astonishing sentence:
“The Golden Mountain does not exist”
…
(pause)
…
(* sigh *)
………………………………. (dream dream dream dream dream ) ………
What a beautiful sentence. What a wonderful collection of words.
Now,
Professor Searle is a busy man; having dispatched the matter of
Existence and Subsistence and suchlike Meinongian curiosa, he hurried on
to the next topic (if it’s Tuesday, this must be the Theory of
Descriptions). Yet did I continue to dream…
How sweet the fragrance of thy meadows, O mountain of gold! Thy brooks -- how pure! How melodious, thy larks!
Thy non-existence -- but a gentle defect, we forgive it freely.
Well.
I shall have nothing further to say about the Golden Mountain, here;
nor about Saint Alexius.
 |
| Supposedly a photograph of Meinong, but more likely a spectral image |
This post is simply to have something to link to, when, in other essays,
when the fit comes on me, I blurt out “Golden Mountain!”
and the readers wonder, What the F---?!?
So now you know all about the Golden Mountain.
[Update 2014:
[Update 2014:
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