It hit me during the last Marxist class that the professor reminds me of two people. One really into Robert Fripp. Knows all about Frippertronics and his clothing and why he doesn’t smile much, how the different King Crimson incarnations came about and read every printed interview. Knows all about Adrian Belew and Tony Levin. His love of J. G. Bennet and by extension Gurdjieff. Yet something about someone positioning their life like that that makes me think devoted less to philosophy and more to a hobby.
The other is a French Policeman who was famously confident about his perceptions whether or not the rest of the world agreed with him, a dead ringer for Peter Sellers in a trench coat.