b's log, stardate 3.30.05
For perhaps the second time all year, I feel like I've made good progress on my thesis. I actually produced some decent discussion of Cartwright on the limits of scientific knowledge. I have also resigned myself to the fact that she's an irredeemably bad writer and no amount of rereading on my part will make her more articulate, elegant, or intelligible.
Now I'm back from a brief trip to the Amherst library, where I pilfered about 30lbs of books for my thesis. Unfortunately I'm too tired to take advantage of this great bounty of more incomprehensible philosophy texts, so I'm going to bed with a headache. I put on Dave Matthews with high expectations that some mellow music would soothe my burning brain-in-a-vat, but it turns out that Dave isn't as mellow as I remembered him to be. Too bad.
Now I'm back from a brief trip to the Amherst library, where I pilfered about 30lbs of books for my thesis. Unfortunately I'm too tired to take advantage of this great bounty of more incomprehensible philosophy texts, so I'm going to bed with a headache. I put on Dave Matthews with high expectations that some mellow music would soothe my burning brain-in-a-vat, but it turns out that Dave isn't as mellow as I remembered him to be. Too bad.