on doing wittgensteinian philosophy

In order to be a good wittgensteinian philosopher you have to be something of a masochist. You really have to love pain, shame, misery and looking at yourself from the worst perspective. I am writing a text about work and necessity - about the very strange and metaphysical distinction between "necessary" and "voluntary" that tends to pop up when one is philosophizing about work. Metaphysical, that is, when it is presented by freedom-loving philosophers. There's plenty of them. I'm thinkin': heck, I can look through all of that georgebushist-crap. Yes, I can. So, in one passage, I try to explain one particularly sympathetic aspect of early Marx. And I try to describe it so that it does not get hopelessly stranded in the kind of distinction I try to shoot down. That's why I am really frustrated when I can't do this. Not because I want to save Marx' ass. (That would be boring.) But because I want to bring out the richness of the concept of work being "expressive". I am stuck. I am stuck in this freedom shit. And, admit it, that's what progress is when you're in this business of doing wittgensteinian philosophy. To be entangled in a mess of trouble that is completely your own. OhhhAhhh. Feels so goooood.