Can consciousness be analysed corpuscularly?
In a message dated 9/8/2015 10:19:58 A.M. Eastern Daylight Time,
donalmcevoyuk@xxxxxxxxxxx writes:
"I well remember when the last ambulance came to take me away, I heard
someone say "I think he's lost consciousness" - only to be rebuked for using a
"term of art". Then the voice said "Sorry, I mean his personal identity
isn't the best." I now think the people who took me away were Griceans."
or Dodgsonians.
For there are two terms of art in the utterance: 'consciousness' and one's
ability to lose it.
The Queen asked Alice: "Take a bone from a dog: what remains?"
Alice considered. "The bone wouldn't remain, of course, if I took it—and
the dog wouldn't remain: it would come to bite me—and I'm sure I shouldn't
remain!"
"Then you think nothing would remain?" said the Red Queen.
"I think that's the answer."
"Wrong, as usual," said the Red Queen: "the dog's temper would remain."
"'But I don't see how—"
"Why, look here!' the Red Queen cried. "The dog would LOSE its temper,
wouldn't it?"
"'Perhaps it would," Alice replied cautiously.
"Then, if the dog went away, its temper would remain!" the Queen exclaimed
triumphantly.
Alice said, as gravely as she could, "They might go different ways." But
she couldn't help thinking to herself 'What dreadful nonsense we are
talking!"
Back to McEvoy:
"I well remember" the following conversation:
NURSE 1: I believe, if you ask me, McEvoy has lost his consciousness.
(Ed. He hasn't -- the belief is wrong).
NURSE 2: Are we talking terms of art here?
NURSE 1: Oops, sorry. I meant to IMPLICATE: McEvoy's personal identity
isn't the best."
NURSE 2: I don't JUST mean 'his consciousness'. I mean the whole idea of
'losing' it!
Now back to Dodgson:
i. If you take a bone from a dog, the dog loses his temper.
Dodgson is having in mind a music-hall song.
ii. If you are late for your train, you may miss it.
iii. I haven't lost my train yet*.
"Lose" belongs to w1, 'temper' and 'consciousness' don't: they belong in
w2.
It's different from letting your mind [let] loose -- or losing your mind.
But only _slightly_ different.
Cheers,
Speranza
I'm a modest little maiden from the country
Where I'm living with my Mother quite alone
And its only very seldom she allows me
To betake myself to London “On my own”
For in town I have a sort of second cousin
Who enjoys to take me round to see the sights
And he always comes and meets me
At the station and he treats me
To the various Metropolitan delights.
Yes, there's nothing half so sweet
As the days on which we meet
For he's quite the nicest boy I've ever met
But although I love a lark
In the day and in the dark
I have never lost my last train yet, Oh no
I have never lost my last train yet.
I admit I'm very fond of nature's beauty
Of the flowers and the birdies in the air
And the chickens and the ducks who gather round me
And the cattle who regard me with a stare
Now this sort of thing, no doubt is very charming
But its really getting very, very slow
And I'm longing for sensations
Such as gentle dissipations
Which I always find in London, when I go.
For I've experienced what it is
To have quaffed a glass of “Fizz”
When you're supping with a gay and giddy set
And I've joined with one and all
In a Covent Garden Ball but
I have never lost my last train yet, Oh no
I have never lost my last train yet.
Now although I am as heartless as a lambkin
That has never heard of mint sauce in its “Puff”
I am getting somewhat sick of rural beauty
Or in other words I've had about enough
I should love to have a flat in Piccadilly
And to go and do exactly as I chose
For had I my habitation
In a West End situation
Then of course, I would not have a train to lose.
Yes, I've learnt to know the bliss
Of a stolen little kiss
When you heave a sigh and softly murmur “Pet”
As you gaze into his face
Wrapt in amorous embrace but
I have never lost my last train yet, Oh no
I have never lost my last train yet.
Now a week or two ago I asked my cousin
To escort me to Boulogne - just for the day
Very soon we were on board the Marguerite, boys
And we had a fair old beano on the way
At Boulogne we found the fun was fast and furious
And of ways to pass the time there was no lack
We were feeling oh so happy
When I said “Look here old chappy
Don't you think it's time that we were getting back?”
For when looking at the clock
I received a dreadful shock
On discovering the sun had gone and set
So a telegram I wrote
“Dear mamma I've missed the boat” but
I have never lost my last train yet, Oh no
I have never lost my last train yet.
Written and composed by G. Rollit & George Le Brunn - 1912
Performed by Marie Lloyd (1870-1922)
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