The principal problem of people who live in civilized circumstances
(their life not taken up by the struggle to merely survive)
is finding something to entertain them (that is):
to keep their mind from having nothing to do but hang out with itself.
 
 
 

The neat thing about any fact man’s mind has conjured up
concerning some subject in his inner, other-reality
is that no matter how many times it is meaninglessly repeated,
the person presently perfunctorily mouthing it will still feel that doing so
is proof of his intellectual wherewithal;
as he does it, you can see the specious pride swamp a dense man’s face;
every pig believes that HE invented squealing  -- or:
skunks smell the same no matter how many people handle them.
The functional distinction between ordinary humanity,
and the man who knows what is going on is in the total divergence of their interests beyond their common instinctive one to survive;
routine people’s non essential thoughts are entirely tied up with matters which,
to varying degrees, they nonetheless take seriously --
matters which the certain man cannot, due to him understanding what they are.

The core of collective man’s mental life is the constant picturing of potential dangers;
the attempt to measure possible threats, and calculate the odds of destruction;
the normal brain of man is programmed for bad news,
like a tabloid reporter seeking stories that bleed, disturb --  even frighten,
yet as is undeniable to any ordinary man (in a moment of pure lucidity)
there is only one piece of bad news: that he will someday, inescapably die --
all other sad-stories so pale in comparison that there is no rational comparison  --
yet to all humanity, living in non subsistence conditions,
their singularly significant, intangible inner world is replete with demons, criminals, the deranged and all manner of other nefarious, immaterial forces.
The greatest and only danger possible to Seigfried is seigfried.
 
 
 

One man said he decided to be over-and-done-with, and officially changed his name to, Guilty --
‘course if you live in the city, that name comes with your residence;
mind is programmed to sometimes fight it –
sometimes embrace it, and be always amenable to discussing it,
but only a man who has internally fled normal urban existence
sees the reality-behind and purpose-for what men call their feelings-of-guilt  --   frequently so non specific as to be like a generalized feeling-of-guilt
for simply being alive;
it certainly sounds insane when put like this,
but easy observation does nothing but support such a description.
Breathing cannot be the crime, since all creatures are shamelessly guilty of that –
there can be only one thing causing men’s feeling-of-guilt  -- their being men  --
there is no other possibility.

Ponder now this: the realization of what is going on vanishes all feelings of guilt  --  so: is a person who accomplishes this --  more, or less of a “man”
(via the definition of such that men have formed and accepted).
 
 
 
 
 

When consciousness is totally lost in thought --  you are living not in plain reality,
but in the shadow of reality.
And someone asks: “When you say: ‘in-the-shadow-of-reality’  --
do you mean near reality, or in a place that is just a crude reflection of reality?”

From the more realized perspective: something is wrong with anyone who
believes that  --  “something-is-wrong” with life or with them.
(And if it helps make you feel better [less bad], remember:
this is strictly from the non commercial, irrelevant perspective of
a man who knows what is going on  --
a meaningless anomaly in the worldwide population.)
 
 
 
 
 

In the city: everybody wants a motto, and the bigger a nothing you are,
the hipper needs be your motto.
 
 
 
 
 

One man’s boilerplate is: “I no longer eat anything that is not sweet,
or drink anything that is not either a stimulant or a depressant.”
 
 
 
 
 

And another man says: “All that most people want,
who say they are trying to achieve enlightenment
is to be able to say that  --   they are trying to achieve enlightenment."
 
 
 
 

Only a man who doesn’t know anything has anything to teach.
Only a man who doesn’t know anything believes he has something
worthwhile to teach,
and instead of saying, “a man”  think, “a mind” (ergo):
only a mind that doesn’t know anything believes it has something worthwhile to teach.
(Remind yours of that next time it corrects you, or tries to make you feel guilty.)

(Second Stanza)
Only a mind that doesn’t know what is going on
believes it has something worthwhile to say regarding what is going on  –
and only the fully realized man is vacuous enough to escape this folly.
The city-stupid will argue over whether they are or aren’t,
while the super refined so are always silent on the subject.
Who but an inordinately dense Dumbo bothers to point out to others and himself:  “Hey, have you noticed  --   I’m an elephant!”