Last Word

A strange sort of meeting with a Yale professor. Think I was out of sorts because of the fast and in the absence of tea or coffee it's not easy to have a civilized conversation. But something else..you can't quite put your finger on it. Of course, the overriding sense that we're intellectual pygmies here. A sense of embarrassment, I suppose, at being shown up (no-one here would really count as an academic or intellectual outside the land of the pure). But it's not that either since what's left of your ego has been deflated a long time ago. 

Not, it should be added, out of a genuine sense of humility -which at least would have been something-but more as a  result of a listlessness, a stupefying indifference to (academic) success. In the final analysis you can't be bothered with a final analysis. Dress that up as a holier-than-thou turning away from institutional determination but, no, it's more like plain old incompetence and laziness. A self that doesn't strive for movement and that simultaneously cannot rest in itself. Out of sorts, sort of. 

Okay, since therapy here is so expensive Herr Roxana I'm going to carry on with a bit of more self analysis (apologies to long-suffering readers).

For a civilized conversation one shouldn't care too much about having a civilized conversation. Your lack of humour bothered you more than anything. Nothing worse than a clown who can't make people laugh. And so we were stuck in this humourless conversation for over an hour with no cultural affinity between us (I read that as a fundamental difference between British and American humour). But more than that it's that academics always have to show off, demonstrate their intelligence, have the last word. As opposed to intellectuals who can have their cake and espresso and not say anything (yeah, you can see where the real problem lies here!). 

You do wonder if things would have been different if the professor had been a woman. Maybe.  

Increasingly you're of the opinion - see the false notes here?- that universities produce dour specialists when what you enjoy most is intelligent banter. Daniel Bell, when asked what he specializes in responded: "in generalizations". 

So, there I was, reeling off names of authors and books. Not that I could remember a bleedin' word of them if pressed. The artificiality of the conversation reached breaking point. "Where are you from? Who are you?". The kind of personal questions that cannot be admitted (we're back to Turing again). No, just blank ideas, opinions, posturing. 

What really got my goat was that he kept on saying things like "we __" or "Ah, now this is where __ would say..".  A bit like me saying, "As an economist I'd say...". Know what I mean, anton? Don't blame him to be honest. That's all part of what being a professional academic is. And you ain't one so get over it, already. But there's nothing ventured here. Same old, same old. 

"Why are you interested in this topic?". I find that kind of question much more revealing. "What drew you to it?" 

The first time I met N, now deceased (may God grant him peace), he said to me, "What's your story, then?" Typical bluster and showmanship from a northerner.  Most people when they ask that- if they ask that- really mean, listen to my story. [He says writing to himself on his own blog!].

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Later today a meeting with an old friend who I haven't seen for ten years. Bound to be a bit awkward since the last time we met he threatened me with physical violence. But maybe that's par for the course since "as a mathematician..