The Mix-up

Today in one of my classes, when a group was doing a presentation on Rene Magritte's "The Treachery of Images", I raised my hand and talked about how it could relate to Bertolt Brecht's playwriting, in the sense that Brecht's plays made sure the audience knew that they were watching a play, and that nothing in the play was plausible to real life. (For those of you haven't seen the piece, it's a painting (oil on canvas) of a wooden pipe, and then underneath it, it reads "ceci c'est ne pas une pipe" (this is not a pipe).) I brought up Brecht because by Magritte informing us that it is indeed not a pipe, he wanted to show people that it was just a painting of a pipe, and therefore, it cannot be a real pipe. My professor seemed to think it was a pretty good point, but the group presenting seemed lost and didn't respond to what I said. Turns out, we never discussed Brecht in this class. We discussed it in another class I'm in. My three philosophy of literature courses are all starting to blend together now and I may not be able to keep my stories straight. So, it got me thinking. If I were to be dating three different girls concurrently without either of them knowing about each other, I could go four weeks before I started to confuse what I was doing with one, as opposed to another. Not too shabby. (Except I have to get the one girl first.)