The Tree In the Other Way

The Previous Tree Presently, February 24, 2015

The Tree In The Way

Above Santa Cruz Harbor, November 2, 2014

Harbormouth, Santa Cruz, 2014

Santa Cruz Harbor, September 2014

Santa Cruz Harbor, October 2014

Across Santa Cruz Harbor at Daybreak, October 2014

To the mouth of Santa Cruz Harbor, October 2014

Time and Being in a Rearview Mirror

Hats off to the first to show that Heidegger's philosophy required of him his Nazism, or conclusively establish that Nazism was merely a quirk of character unconnected in any essential way to his formally arranged thoughts. His newly released black notebooks provide enough material for a decent argument about how Heidegger managed to glide from the one to the other at the time, e.g., in the mid-Nineteen-Thirties, when he put himself in service of Hitler's regime as rector of an important university, and did a little cleansing of the staff.

As chairman of a society, which is named after a person, one is in certain way a representative of that person. After reading the Schwarze Hefte, especially the antisemitic passages, I do not wish to be such a representative any longer. These statements have not only shocked me, but have turned me around to such an extent that it has become difficult to be a co-representative of this.”

—The seriously disappointed response of the chair of the Heidegger Society, Prof. Gunter Figal, chair of the philosophy department of the famously seriousminded University of Freiburg, Germany.

For the timebeing, West Coast edition

Is It President's Day Yet?

The last update of The Quotidian came some months ago, just as the San Francisco Giants began their, to my mind at least, improbable playoff run which somehow led them to victory in the 2014 World Series.

Now it's almost time for pitchers and catchers to report for Spring Training: the Giants are scheduled to open things up down in Scottsdale in nine more days.

February isn't particularly unbearable in Santa Cruz, not like places I've heard about back East, Ohio and Michigan and upstate New York and, jayz, Minnefuckingsota. The force of such a hint of Spring as the promise of pitchers and catchers once more arriving at their appointed stations in Florida or Arizona is somewhat mitigated in Santa Cruz relative to that presumably enjoyed by Easterners by the clemency of its February, Santa Cruz inconvenienced by a range of weather in the month rather than bludgeoned by the sterner stuff had by those back East, the hurricanado and its cousin the Nor'Easter and all the snow of it and the freshets of frozen wind.

Uh, no. Santa Cruz has its own evidences of spring in truth, even absent the welcome reminder that the game is soon afoot, the game of baseball once more.