July
22, 2001.
OKAY, IT'S NOW SUNDAY MORNING;
DOES YOUR LITTLE
MAN KNOW WHERE YOU
ARE?
________________________________
Just beneath the surface is an
endlessly running stream,
whose existence has moved men
to conceive of such notions as:
UnderWorlds; the SubConscious:
SubtleLowerRegions, & the like,
but none can say exactly what
the stream is, for no man knows;
it is just there, and felt more
by a few than by most.
You can hear it when you are
quiet,
and you cannot when you are
not.
One day, as kind of a joke, a
man said to himself:
”We have to stop meeting like
this,”
and the self that heard this
replied:
”What
are you now -- totally nuts?!”
(The self said this just to
see if the man had any understanding of
what was going on.)
Have you caught on yet
that jokes are only funny
if the set-up is heart
wrenching?
…well….did you find that
humorous?……………..
We
do not know by objective knowledge that we have a brain:
we
do not know by objective knowledge that we have a mind;
we
do not know by objective knowledge that we have consciousness,
all
that we know for certain is that we have thoughts --
but
how reliable is that knowledge ...
...since
it was one of
them that just said that.
One man mused: “To me the best
part of a thought is in the heart of what it covers,” to which another
man responded:
“To me the best
part of a thought is what it leaves untouched,”
and an evesdropping thought
said to itself:
“That’s what happens
when outsiders try to analyze
local
situations with which they are unfamiliar.”
(One
guy’s colon’s motto is: “Leave a tough job to an expert.”)
The true neural freebooter introduces
onto his own intellectual game field, players whose background would be
subject to an endless flow of potentially embarrassing questions
should they suddenly appear
on a legitimate team,
(an officially sanctioned team).
There
are no, "tough jobs" to the real
experts.
Everyone hears
music playing in their head
that was picked out by their
genetic disposition;
a hip listener doesn’t listen,
and especially never calls-the-station-to-complain.
To
be privately bizarre, (in a certain neural fashion),
can
actually be the height of sanity.
Prison jockeys will only ride
a horse who is dead.
Some jobs require not even a
trace of expertise.
“Hey dare boy;
if you is breathing -- climb aboard.”
...(yes sir, not even a trace
is needed.)
A son asked his father: “If you
can talk in such a way that
other people will automatically
assume that you are enlightened,
does that count for anything?”
”Yes sir, my boy – sit right
up there in the saddle,
and make yourself comfortable
--
cause you ain’t going nowhere.”
This
e-mail just in:
“I
have been reading your daily news for some months now,
and
subsequently find myself hesitant to tell other people what I think
for
fear that if I say it aloud -- I might actually start believing
it myself.
P.S.
Is there any chance at all that I may understand what I just said?
Yours,” etc.
According
to a recent poll conducted (without their knowledge),
a
sizable segment of this News’ readership fails to make a proper distinction
between what is humor and what is not;
this
is particularly pertinent in that what is not humorous no longer exists.
In
another galaxy, one man’s routine thoughts all flew little bitty air planes,
and
through a sheer act of will, he turned them all into kamikazes.
The
brains behind one escape plot said to the participants
as
they prepared to make their break:
“If
you are captured and they want you to make a live confession,
at
least don’t look -- right at the camera,”
(of
course a present detainee who already knows the score
won’t
do that even in his cell alone).
Remember this:
They may eat you, but they can’t kill you --
-- only you can do that --
by remaining in the, “I’m-still-laying-down”
position.
One
eyed/I’d men can only travel one way streets.
(Nuff
said.)
Second
Shot: Same Target:
One day, (just as a joke), one
man said to himself:
”We have to stop meeting like
this,” and some self replied:
“I’ve
never seen you before in my life,” as
its little joke.
...(Wonder if the man still finds the episode
funny?)
All
About Taste In The Second Reality:
A clarinetist in a coma
is no better than an accordionist
conscious,
and a reader retorts:
”I am so sick of metaphors that
I could almost puke! …….no,
let me restate that:
that I could almost wake up
to what’s actually going on…….yeah,
that’s more what I meant.”
(That’s what can happen when
you begin to poke your way
all the way through words.)
Warning:
A man with a conviction is a
man with his hand already half way
in your pocket --
or soul -- ‘cordin’ to which you value most.
Some men think that a bad attitude
doesn’t count
as long as it is not verbally
expressed;
some slugs believe if it weren’t
for genetics, they could fly.
Some men who have once glimpsed
daybreak
fail to ever go blind enough
again sufficient to stay awake.
Train
Riding Tip: Once you are, ON,
you have to, by gawd
--
HANG
on.
No one’s going to hold you on
-- no one else can.
(“Well thankfully
there is some justice somewhere --
even if it is on an erratic conveyance covered in grease, and
flying at the speed of light.”)
One man suggests that man’s biological
classification be renamed to either: Homo
Duplexus, or: Homo
Defectus.
(There
is certainly no shortage of sorehead specimen, huh?!)
More
About Prisons & Internal Escape:
Only independent thought never
misleads and is self-correcting;
thus the free man cannot lie
to himself -- for long.
One man’s musical advice to his
bladder:
“Never buy an instrument that
you either: have to tune, or empty.”
(Good counsel
surely, for most any circumstance.)
In one universe, when unusual
& untried times were at hand,
local reality would say to the
inhabitants with thoughts:
”Just lay still, and enjoy it.”
The really great thing about
the inevitable is…well,
that should be obvious as hell.
(Bet you always
wondered why death doesn’t advertise.)
Living-in-a-dream is not
in imagining fantastagigmas,
but is in thinking that you
know what is going on
when you do not.
A
topsy turvy road at its beginning: a slice of pie at its end.
A
son said to a father: “In my efforts to awaken, I don’t know where I would
be now
had
I not had your daily comments concerning the matter,” and the elder replied:
“ Without them, I don’t know where
I’d be either.”
One
man made arrangements to: leave-his-mind-to-science:
shortly
thereafter, science made arrangements to leave town.
J
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