Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
It's as if Kurt Vile and his band have some recollection of rock music—exuberant, surging, joyful swaggering noise—but recognize that they, we, now, cannot just have that, do that; what works instead, for now, is measured, deliberate.
The image of a person alone with a book; one way of picturing philosophy.
A person keeping a journal is alone with a book, too. But then, not just a book being read; a book being written.
And not even being read, at least not like any other book. Your journal is never just a book.
And not even in the way that a book you write is not just any book.
One O'Clock Jump.
Steam from a mug.
Steak and eggs, Brussels sprouts.