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.
§§81–88 of the Investigations must somehow be more remarkable, more dynamic, than they usually seem. So much happens.
§83 seems to recapitulate §1d: Wittgenstein says, essentially, here's a description (people playing out in the open, goofing around with a ball, doing this and that, 'dazwischen den Ball planlos in die Höhe würfen'), and then (and yet): 'nun sagt Einer: Die ganze Zeit hindurch spielen die Leute ein Ballspiel, und richten sich daher bei jedem Wurf nach bestimmten Regeln'.
I can't help but imagine this 'someone' who says this saying it with an air of penetration, the same sort of affected, mystical farsightedness which is soon to be depicted repeatedly during the metaphilosophical remarks to come. It seems to come from nowhere. Someone hears this description, sees or imagines people doing what they have been said to be doing, and his immediate response is to insist (is that not the tone?) on some other description, not just as one which would also fit, but as one which is somehow needful (—in order to…?). As the nearby remarks make clear, Wittgenstein's mind is on doubt, on a skepticism with onset so rapid and consequences so calamitous that the skeptic, the person in that mood, that frame of mind, imagines the earth swallowing him up (§84). At least, so long as he cannot find or devise a way of ruling those doubts out; all doubt out.
Where does the skeptic think of himself as trying to stand? As making some space in which, from which, to reflect, to entertain and then settle the questions that words, as ordinarily used, provoke, or tempt, or leave him free to pursue? When Wittgenstein makes an entirely characteristic response to the idea of rules which leave no room for doubt (compare §85 to §28: a signpost sometimes leaves room for doubt, sometimes not), he then remarks: 'dies ist nun kein philosophischer Satz mehr, sondern ein Erfahrungssatz'. The 'empirical proposition' in the standard translation is a little too fancy, maybe; it's not as if 'signposts sometimes leave room for doubt, and sometimes don't' was or is to be tested, confirmed, experimented about. 'Empirical…' is a philosopher's construction. But anyone with experience, of signposts or doubts or otherwise, knows what Wittgenstein says about them, can confirm his remark and, with it, using it, get back in touch with the ground of language, with words as they are used in everyday life.
So why 'not a philosophical proposition'? Aside from the fact that, duh, it's not? Maybe because the skeptic is liable to suppose that any response to his doubts is, or must be, philosophical, effected with 'philosophical propositions'. Especially if it seems to work. Because what else could work?!
For Wittgenstein there is nowhere to stand except the usual places, the ordinary ones, where ordinary language is spoken.
Isobel Sollenberger—on a verge which is always sustained.
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.