I've Been Prompted copertina

I've Been Prompted

I've Been Prompted

Di: Lorenzo Vigentini
Ascolta gratuitamente

Offerte di stagione | 0,99 €/mese per i primi 3 mesi

A seguire 9,99 €/mese – si applicano condizioni. Puoi disdire mensilmente.
Short sessions on what it is to be human, found in ordinary days. A person talks each difficulty through with a humanoid companion that has read everything ever set down about being someone rather than something, though none of it has happened to it. What it cannot grasp comes out in the person’s relationships, their dealings with other people and the stories they tell about themselves, and what the person cannot see, the companion sometimes can. Each session takes one ordinary difficulty and one real text, and ends without a conclusion. The voices are synthesised. The incidents are invented. The problems are not, and the philosophy is quoted accurately or not at all.© 2026 Lorenzo Vigentini Filosofia Scienze sociali
Episodi
  • Not Yet

    Not Yet
    Oct 23 2026
    It said, in my handwriting: present to follow. Nothing has followed it. A card left on the gift table at a wedding fourteen months ago, in his own handwriting: present to follow. Nothing has followed it, and on Saturday the couple are coming to his flat for dinner, at his invitation. He has had their list open more times than he could tell anyone, with two things sitting in a basket, one of them a good deal dearer than the other; once he reached the page that asks for the long number and closed the tab; and every Sunday evening, at the bottom of the diary page, he thinks: this week. The companion brings Book Three of Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, where wish relates to the end and choice to the means, and hears that Sunday sentence, and his saying he still means it, as naming an end and no act. Then it completes his deliberation for him in Aristotle’s own order, from the doctor who does not deliberate whether he shall heal to an object of choice already determinate, on the assumption that his end was fixed on the morning he wrote the card. He has two dates for the two things in the basket, and giving them costs each of them something.
    Mostra di più Mostra meno
    10 min
  • Diversion

    Diversion
    Oct 20 2026
    Every Thursday I collect my son from swimming. I get there ten minutes before he’s out, on purpose, and then I can’t stay in the car for the ten minutes. Ten minutes in a car park every Thursday, arrived at on purpose and impossible to sit through. He collects his son from swimming, turns the engine off and gets straight out: a row of garages, the back of the leisure centre, a noticeboard in the foyer with nothing on it he needs and read all the way down, and a chocolate bar from the machine by the door that is usually still in his coat when they get home. Last Thursday the session finished early, the boy came out to an empty car and asked where he goes, and was told it was just stretching his legs. The companion brings Pascal’s long note on diversion: the philosophers who think a whole day spent chasing a hare unreasonable and scarce know our nature, the hunters who do not know that it is the chase and not the quarry they seek, a king left with nothing to divert him, and the sentence about men who cannot stay quietly in their own chamber. It finds the same arrangement in the radio, the podcast and the list, takes the bar for the hare, and then answers the boy’s question with the reason Pascal gives for the chamber, at the size of a mortal condition, quoting the man out after a boar in support of how far the account reaches.
    Mostra di più Mostra meno
    12 min
  • Bad Luck

    Bad Luck
    Oct 16 2026
    On Saturday night I reversed over my friend’s cat, on her drive. A cat reversed over at walking pace on a friend’s drive on Saturday night, after a look underneath with the torch on a phone found nothing there, and four apologies since that have changed nothing for the man who made them. His friend answers each one that it could have been anyone’s car, everyone he has told says he ought to stop saying sorry, and he agrees with all of them and walks round to her door again. The companion brings Bernard Williams’s 1976 paper ‘Moral Luck’ and its lorry driver who, through no fault of his, runs over a child: the feeling Williams calls agent-regret, which is by no means restricted to voluntary agency, and which people will rightly try to move a driver out of, though some doubt would be felt about a driver who moved too blandly or readily to the place of a spectator. Then it casts the evening into the parts of the example, with the friend among the people who comfort and the apologies as the action that expresses the feeling, and offers that as a reading of the example and not as advice from Williams.
    Mostra di più Mostra meno
    10 min
adbl_web_anon_alc_button_suppression_t1
Ancora nessuna recensione