Today was a day off, and I went to Aeon to read Shigeki Noya's "Wittgenstein, Struggle as Philosophical Investigation" this morning as usual. I remember that I read Wittgenstein without academic studies because I had started attending the meeting about autism. At that meeting, a person said to me that my style of thinking was philosophical. and I also thought that I was glad if I could weave my style of thinking as a kind of 'my philosophy', even if it sounds too proud. But I can follow very narrow philosophical authors. I don't follow Kant or Hegel, but mainly read Wittgenstein and follow his way.
In the book, Noya explains Wittgenstein's way of thinking plainly. Indeed, his (or their) writing contains a lot of philosophical words so it seems difficult, but just read it without any prejudice then you can find it contains very ordinary things. How is the behavior of understanding the word 'understanding'? What does mean other people's understanding of 'my' feeling of pain? Wittgenstein and Noya try to explain those very, really very primal things with plain words. That mad passion itself is the essence of philosophy I think.
This afternoon, I had time to read Haruki Murakami's "Hear The Wind Sings" and "Pinball, 1973". Those early works tell me that Haruki had a sense of shame or shyness to begin his novels. I, not any special person, start to write the things that aren't special, therefore I have to be shameful... That's the sense Haruki exactly has. I feel sympathy for him because I can understand that shame. I think that being a writer or writing a novel must be very banal things therefore we might have to feel embarrassed.
I guess that Wittgenstein and Haruki stop their walking at the first point, at the beginning. They murmur their truths 'before' speaking their philosophies or writing their novels. I can trust them better than the writers who can express their philosophies or novels smoothly without doubting their actions. That might cause by the experience I had to be ashamed because of speaking stupid things in my life. It might come from autism (I guess Wittgenstein and Haruki might be autistic people, and therefore I have attracted their strange but honest writings).
