I was newly arrived in Columbus for my first “real job” as a mathematician.  I immediately made up an Ohio State University riddle: Point to the nearest nuclear reactor.  It was in the building across the street from the Math Department.

I went to the Ohio State Fair.

The Ohio State Fair’s claim to shame was that they had blacklisted The Weavers back in the McCarthy days.  They had booked The Weavers as a headline act, but when they arrived the Fair wouldn’t let them go on.

Nonetheless, I went to the Fair.  I saw this and saw that.  I ate popcorn.  I had an ear of corn.  There was a Black dame walking around with the a bullwhip.  I smiled at her and held the ear of corn up. “Can you hit this?”

“Hey, you’re alright.”  She eyed the corn, took aim.  And lowered her arm. “I don’t trust myself.”  We smiled and parted.

There was a stand taking computer photos and printing them on things.  It was a bit new-fangled.  Buttons, mugs, I don’t know what all. They’d print your face in the oval of a giant cloth million dollar bill, and it could say something under your face.  I committed art.

You can meditate on your asshole, though I didn’t know that’s what I was doing at the time.

I was walking across campus and my asshole started itching like crazy.  But for some reason, the Great Chain of Being had broken down, and it is that very Chain that ordains that an itch must be scratched.  Instead, I got interested in it.  “What is an itch?”  I questioned it closely.  I wasn’t after the biology — what is the irritant, is there something special about itch nerve cells, what does this activate in the brain — I was interested in the experience.  What is the experience?  How well located is it? It’s located in my mind (wherever that is!) and I could easily guide my finger to it, but experientially, I don’t think it’s located in such high definition.  It’s aversive.  Is it hot?  sharp?  pointy? jagged?  What it is this thing?  I suppose the sheer irritation of it, when diverted from action to thought gives the thought itself the quality of urgency.

And then I got it.  Or you could say I copped out.  I was able to name it: “Sensation”.

This gave me mental resolution.  In the scheme of academic philosophy, it’s hardly a new idea.  But I felt my mind had taken a new stance.

Angie: Did you finally scratch it?

Rev: I don’t remember.