Hormones
live in the physical world -- as it is,
while
if you are ordinary, your neurons live largely in a dream world provided
by life;
the
certain man on the other hand lives mentally in a realm mostly of his own
doing -- one which bridges the two supra.
(Being
“well connected” never meant more).
In
his ongoing effort to restructure the working of his mind, one man’s latest
approach is rolled up in the statement: “Danger does not frighten a dead
man,”
and
his mind is not at all sure it fully understands this......and even if
it does,
it’s
not sure it likes it.
If
you want to be thoughtful -- but don’t know how to really think,
you
have no choice other than to believe in something.
(For
the rebel: “being out of synch” with everyone else is the height of belonging).
After
chewing on some of the matters mentioned here, one man
has
this to say: “So! -- this is where it’s brought me:
to
asking the birds if they -- or the cats -- should
be in charge!”
One
thing more than anything else, jogs one man into thinking -- his
own thinking.
(“Self
abuse” has never been less abusive).
In
one binary based reality, it is believed to be extremely bad luck
for
three people to stand up at the same time,
(“listing
ships -- splitting lips,” and all that rot, don’t you know).
The
Underlying Math Of Culture.
The
collective calculation: Anger plus talent equals public art:
the
individual enumeration: Originality mixed with sang
froid
produces
private, creative perception.
(In
no game has a “single hand” ever counted so strongly).
A
father told a son: “Being happy is no permanent excuse” --
which
for a while bothered the lad --
but
he got over it.
All
of mankind’s retold myths, legends, fables, tales and allegories
are
for those who have forgotten the original event,
(“Or
who can’t bear to remember it!” -- “Or who aren’t allowed
to!”
Never
has so little meant so little.)
From
our: Believe It Or Be Dipped In Shit
department:
On
one world is a poet who has never -- that’s right --
NEVER
opened
a work with the word, “I”
-- so: Believe It Or Go Take A
Shower!
If
you will say why you stopped doing something -- you haven’t
stopped doing it.
(Never
has something so far removed from thinking ever had anything to do with
the
mind! [you can bet your slog clogs on that!])
For
some purposes: a man with a chip on his shoulder is not as much of a problem
as
one with a chip on his thinking;
being
angry over the event you’re thinking about
lowers
thinking into something less and much more feral.
(When
the moon is in the second derby,
even
a man in a cutaway coat can piss steam.)
During
a lull in the action, one of the children at the party said: “Let’s play
a game” -- and someone suggested: “Pin
The Answer On The Question” --
and
someone got it going by asking: “What actually holds civilization together?”
--
and
one little girl shouted: “Rules Of
Law!" -- only to be countered
by another kid
who
proclaimed: “Nationalistic Fidelity!”
– then another lad ventured:
“Respect
For Personal Property!” -- and
simultaneously two youngsters yelled:
“The
Concept Of Romantic Love & Monogamy!”
– and still another nipper bellowed: "Double
Entry Bookkeeping” – then the
boy who had begun it all
shushed
them into silence and offered his own answer to the query he had proposed:
“No my friends and fellow revelers -- good guesses one and
all,
but
it strikes moi that the one, obligatory prerequisite to civilization is
that particular sort of seriousness that afflicts our parents and other
adults” --
which
pretty well brought the party to a complete stand still.
(Question
for you: do you actually think this story is about children and a party?)
In
the city’s public forums: a man with nothing to prove,
can
prove nothing to those hanging about.
(Thus
are man’s public neural areas well protected even without physical fortifications.)
One
man says he believes that some if not all of the ideas that come from
this
kind of activity are just for the purpose of making people angry.
(“Change
that to: ‘making yourself off-balance’ and I’ll buy it,”
said
one man responsible for such ideas.)
There
is one fellow who has taken to using White
Out on his thoughts,
and
when he heard it rumored that fumes from the product could cause dizziness,
and
disorientation he said: “So that’s
it!” -- and his mind said: “So that’s what?”
J
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