May 11, 2003                                                                          © 2003: JAN COX
 
 
 
 

One man says: “The reason I don’t care to believe in god is that
all religions say he is aware of every thought you’ve ever had, and hell!  --
I don’t even want to be aware of ‘em all, much less have someone else be.”
Another of the benefits of living in the fog:
you’re not much inclined to think that there could be anyone who is not therein,
(which is not a bad thing for the old cow ego,
when trapped in a faceless, thus mindless herd).
 
 
 
 

Living in civilization (whether you wish it or not) is a team activity,
while living the life of a more deeply seeing man is a solo endeavor,
(whether this is what you originally intended  or not).
 
 
 
 

One man’s view of, you-know-what: “While it may not actually BE funny,
it might as well be, for all the good it’ll do NOT being,”
(and another chap wonders whether he is talking about being alive in general,
or something in specific [for all the difference that’d make]).
 
 
 
 

On one world (just after Pleasant Season)
they collect everyone’s comments for the year, put ‘em all in a croker sack,
and send ‘em back to the home office for re cycling.

Q: What is more important for success than repetitiveness?
A: It’s according to what area you are referring to: the herd’s collective range,

If government is now the religion of the non religious,
then endless forms to fill out have replaced endless prayers to present  --
“You see sir, you write your name in the blanks of the areas in which
you want to officially register your whine,
(for example where it says): ‘I ____ do not like how this-or-that thing in life is going,'
yes, sign right there  --   yes, now you’ve done it!  --  now: don’t you feel much better!”
FYI: men’s minds did not create bureaucracies  -- nay, fannie mae --
but the other way around.
“Pa pa, that is most tricky to see!”
      “He who makes your glasses can make himself invisible.”
“Is that the ultimate insight into how thoughts work?”
      “It’ll do.”
 
 

And one man had a private squantra (like a mantra that he’d sat on)
that stated quite openly: “What WON’T do?”  (one he found he could not share,
for when others were with it confronted –
                                                  they watched it whiz by
                                                  when they should have bunted,
[that is]: their minds became bleached in the face of whole wheat [aka]:
“My thinking is part of life’s endless sentence, so:
thanks, but no thanks to your proffered period.”)
No one wants the ball to be over.....
which is why Cinderella is pictured as crippled.....okay, so the popular version
doesn’t have her so, but that is because the minds of ordinary men, by their nature, favor one leg, and to the tilted do the off balanced seem normal.
“Pa pa; would that indicate that the dead do not perceive the dead as deceased?"
    “Why son, I have no earthly idea what you are talking about! --  (unless of course
     you’re metaphorically talking about men’s mental comprehension of life). ”
 

Urban Infrastructure News By Way Of A Dialogue.
“The best parts of the city are underground and unknown.”
       “I don’t know about that, but the most entertaining parts are those
        visible and employed.”
“Which is only because they are verbally-supported.”
      “So you’re saying that we do not recognize the potentially best features
        of city life due to our focusing on those distractions about which we can speak?”
“I could not much improve on your comment were I a professional City Planner.”

One man commonly goes around secretly saying to himself:
“How can words be the vital foundation upon which rests all of man’s achievements, and yet be bustin’ my balls?!”
(Let you in on something: a man who --  on his own  --
can reach a place wherein this question springs naturally to his mind,
has, for all practical purposes, its answer already in his grasp.)

One man confides to a few close friends that his idea of a good-time
is far too much fun to fit into words.
“Like I always told you son: if you can’t even describe it to yourself --
                                                 you’re on the right track.”
 
 
 
 

What has never been filed correctly in the city bureaucracy’s records is the fact that: man’s dreams regarding his mental-only reality
are made to be dreamed  --  not realized.
The three eyed man who finally escapes the inner urban landscape alone can then see that trips to Oz & Camelot are imaginary, and anyone’s belief that they actually arrived there is a bit more use of the imagination than is profitably called for:
this true however, only for him --
for everyone else in the city herd it remains the normal situation of:
dreams are meant to be dreamed,
and dreamers are entitled to believe their dreams to be real,
(“Well, how else,” notes The Wizard Of The Round Table,
“Could bovines hear their own mooing as music?!”)

Without unsubstantiated faith in dreams  --  civilization would implode,
man would have no interesting inner reality afloat in his mind
from whence flows all of his culture, arts and entertaining knick knacks
needed to fill the times between meals and rolls in the hay.
An ordinary man’s life is incomplete without dreams and a blindness to their nature;
the certain man’s life is a restless shambles with them,
(a matter of: “I opened my eyes/I’s, and --  Wham!   --  there I am.”)
 
 
 
 

Curious War Reports From The Inner Battleground.
The ordinary will unhesitatingly defend themselves  --
even from attack by their inferiors  --
and someone asks: “But what possible purpose can this serve to life?”
Fleas maintain the imaginary strength required to take on the elephant  --  no,
let’s be accurate: the imaginary strength required to ignore the elephant,
by their endless conflicts with other fleas (aka):
the constant criticizing of vacuous words BY vacuous words
keeps away any dangerous ones of substance.

The way to peacefully live, while not understanding what you are doing,
is by never becoming aware that you have no understanding.

                                                    Cows are comfy being cows;
                                                    life intends that all creatures be what they are;
                                                    life slips up every now and then,