When one man would see marital aid ads touting: “Products for sex!”
he’d always think of: “Invisible food for hunger.”
After men become civilized and settle in the city area of consciousness,
they undertake to expand the scope of survival essential activities:
turning eating into dining; fucking into romancing;
being sheltered into architectural sport;
one area normally untouched in this evolution is the one that makes it possible  --  consciousness;
only the certain man endeavors to turn man’s minimal, essential consciousness
into something else  --    expanded, personally-meaningful consciousness.
 
 
 

A father said to a son: “Consider this: what if you were part of a grand puppet play
in which the puppets normally had no self awareness, nor could think,
but you did and could  --
what good could you make of this?”
 
 
 

With a face full of smile, one man says: “You wake up in the morning, feeling so-so  --
you take a pill, and soon you feel good all over, full of good will for the whole world, and bubbling joy over just being alive  --  what’s wrong with that!”  --
and his sister keeps waiting for someone to raise a counter to this.
 
 
 

When you’re thinking about, and trying to interpret human life,
you’re not really trying to interpret human life  --
your nervous system is attempting to interpret the nature of your temperament.
 
 
 

One man says:
“While this guy Buddha, in saying that: ‘Life is suffering’ was on to something,
under today’s conditions that is perhaps a bit overstated, more like:
‘The way other people act can make life for YOU an imposition.'”
 
 
 

Fact. No one can tell a puppet in a play who appears to talk and hear, that he is one
(that is: he appears to talk and hear as directed in the play’s script).
 
 
 

Whenever believers remember to look:
there are always increasing signs of their faith’s apocalypse.
 
 
 

How Mind Imagines It Could Act If It Could Act That Way.
Listening to an impressive, sightless pianist, a would-be musician said:
“Hell, if I was blind, I could play that good  --  what else would I have to do!”
(Notes and melodies  --   words and ideas.)
 
 
 

Fact. With city folks, the whole benefit of being a puppet is in not having to fret over whether you should do-this, or do-that; think-this, or think-that,
while simultaneously feeling that you are responsible for such;
you have your force-fed cake, and have it too  --
and between gagging mouthfuls, mutter something about how famished you are.
 
 
 

 Forget about fingernail extraction, and electrical shocks,
the worst torture a man can suffer is feeling guilty about being what he is.
 
 
 

A brief, but pointed letter arrived at the desk of the city paper’s editor
from an apparently concerned citizen that read:
“Dear Sirs: the Huns are at EVERYONE’S door!”
Another “advantage” to living in the city is that it is impossible to make overstated comments regarding  men’s many important incorporeal matters.
(Wherever the word, “hyperbole” came from --  it wasn’t here.)
"Yes class, a boulder resting on your foot can weigh too much,
but not a thought on your mind concerning justice, god, or any of the other goodies
in man’s inner-only, other reality."
Fact. You can’t overdo the non do.
 
 
 

Fact. There are no circumstances that can frighten or confuse a self aware puppet.
 
 
 

After having one of those routinely frustrating, civilized days in the city,
one man looked down into his pants and mused:
“Well at least my own sex organs won’t give me grief,”
and his pecker thought: “Just be glad I can’t talk.”
Moral: To ordinary men, life may be unfair, but it is never unfair to itself  --
(how ‘bout this for a move: align yourself more closely to life  --
maybe something good’ll rub off on you).
 
 
 
 

As he took his final breath, the Commissioner of City Feelings And Stability whispered to those by his bed:
“Glue and cement may be lonely states of affairs  --
but affairs nonetheless necessary to survive here.”

Someone sent this question to Dr. Answer:
“Dear Doctor: Are men’s minds tied directly to life? (or let me put it):
is each person’s individual mind tied directly to the ever changing,
impersonal circumstances of life (or perhaps deeper still):
does the mind’s connection to life go through an intermediary?
    Looking forward to your response, Yours,” etc, and the Doctor replied:
“This should have been sent to Mr. Obvious.
Thank you for your interest, Yours, Dr.” etc.

Now some advice from: The Remodeling Man:
“If you are going to try to rip out your mind, start at the edges”  --
a suggestion well founded regarding carpet,
but minds laid in city residences HAVE no edges  --  no beginning  --  no end;

The reason it is so difficult to leave the city is that you don’t know how you got there,
(the certain man finds a way around this little difficulty).
 
 
 
 

Conversations From City Life.
“Only the dumb call others dumb.”
      “Man, is that dumb.”

                                        Stupid is as stupid does,
                                        and its reflection, stupid loves.

It takes two to be properly distracted from realizing what is really going on with life:
one to do the distracting and one to BE distracted:
wanna guess who the necessary two are?
better still: wanna take a guess where they both LIVE?

                                        Round and round the dancers go,
                                        on a floor built of dancers.

The reason you cannot see what is going on from the view from the city is that you are already dead in the middle of what you are struggling to see with no awareness of this fact being possible while you are there.

                                       Justice, justice,
                                       who’s got the justice?  --   no one on the dance floor for sure.
 
 
 
 
 

Standing tall and semi stable amidst the debris of vino scraps, mental hair twisting,
and a life time of late night musings, its voice cried out:
“I am a mighty city!
I cannot be destroyed, and no man can breach my boundaries!
I am invincible to mortal assault  --  yet I am strangling on my own pollution.”
Such was a fleeting day dream had by a knight on his way out of town.
 
 
 
 

Another Conversation Heard Coming From An Urban Condom (or perhaps that is: Condo?!).
“Help! --  let me out of here!”
     “How did you get IN here?”
”If I knew that I wouldn’t have to be asking for help, now would I?!”
    “Well, I wouldn’t know about that  --   I’m not from here.”
“Funny!  --  you LOOK human!”
     “Hell then! --  let ME out of here!”

And one man has wondered:
"Is man's inner-only, intangible-reality life's way of smiling-through-man,
or a manifestation of its on going struggle to understand its own temperament?"

The man behind the counter said: "The main thing is to always remain the same" --
of course he would say that  --  that's why he is behind the counter.
 
 

Near City University's far gate,
a man with snack in hand notes that since he has personally learned-to-think
he has given up reading about what others believe they think,
(but leaving room for an occasional girlie magazine).