Living in the city is having only comparative thoughts;
ideas that can exist only via the mind’s contrasting them with other ideas.
Living in the city is never feeling totally confident of your ideas.
On inauguration day, the king announced:
"Dear Adoring Subjects: Have no fear  --  I have just begun to perish.”
Living in the city is having questions for which you never find satisfying answers.
Living in the city is being surrounded by creatures who have the same
doubtful feelings as you toward their ideas, but yet to whom you feel superior.
The cultural difference between one man’s brain state & his lower territories finally became so strained that the entire mapping of his world is having to be redrawn.
Living in the city is being inexplicably excited in your head one day,
and bored to distraction the next.
To his personal arsenal of mental weapons,
one man has added the end to using proper nouns.
Living in the city is always having some disturbing matter to think about,
but with no real idea of how it got there
(that’s why men invented the word, “circumstances” to give themselves a dump-all).
No matter their stated intention: all city institutions are for the collective,
public purpose of: dancing-around-the real-subject :
giving men something to look at rather than themselves.
Living in the city is having a sensation suddenly pop up throughout your life of an unidentifiable humming sound coming from somewhere unknown off in the distance.
The new king of one land made the surprising move of matching where he pointed
with where he told the people he was pointing.
Living in the city is being on a train that never stops,
filled with passengers who think it should.
All mental dances in the city are by nature, incestuous:
only hoe downs in rebel territory are otherwise.
Living in the city is living your life in the house where you were born.
In urban climes: a talent with no name is no talent:
such is the city’s sense of humor and self defense.
Living in the city is talking to others in one manner,
and to yourself about them in another.
After finally concluding that: “Language is a two way street,”
one man revealed that his goal in life now is to have a drag racing tongue,
and speed trap lips.
Living in the city is never being able to fully enjoy and trust smooth seas.
Poets who spend their words comparing things of the city,
such as religion and other attempted models to explain the nature of man,
spit forever in the wind in the instinctive belief that the wind will finally give way.
Living in the city is spending a lifetime with the subtle feeling that you should be
on your way some where.
When a speaker in city park (deep into his ramble) said to the gathered crowd: “Calamities bring out the best in people,”
a chap who had been listening to his rant from the outset mused:
“Well, one thing’s for sure: calamities bring out people.”
Living in the city is being giddily happy in your head Sunday,
and frightened by an unknown specter Monday.
The surer you are in your head of what you say, the fewer adjectives you require
(oh yeah: and no adverbs).
Living in the city is to constantly feel in your head, a slight pressure,
which nothing erases permanently, (no offense to drugs, prayer and gossip).
A king (even a god) with a bad-attitude will never want for followers.
Living in the city is being able only to achieve satisfaction in the body.
Poets who spend their effort comparing the sexes, are children who are
still bewildered that acts find voice through facts  --   hormones through neurons.
 

“But is man truly destined to live his mental life in such a place  --
in such circumstances?”  someone asks  --
a meaningful (not to mention, singularly exciting) question only for a very few people on this planet at any given instant.
What “man,” in the normal, collective sense of the word
is “destined” to do in any particular area (including thinking)
is whatever he is presently  --  by instinct  --  doing;
what the noted few might do is another matter.

They have an anomalously wired spot in the wiring of their instinct whereby
the nature of their nervous system is to not live the life of their mind in such a place,
in such circumstances;
they cannot help what they are nor the interest they have any more than can
the rest of humanity help their condition
(thankfully though, the few are generally weaker than everyone else,
and can thus more readily fail to sufficiently act on their interest,
and live as per what they genetically are,
[but: back to the main, less convoluted road]).

But this immediately raises the question:
"How can this one unconventional spot in a man’s otherwise normal nervous system engage in something totally abnormal to the rest of it?"
How can one rebel overthrow a kingdom of billions?  --  a few rules for doing so:
pay no attention to outside instructions on how to,
trust neither those that appear in your own mind until
you unthinkingly, unconditionally do;
follow no thoughts that are criticism of man or any of his collective ideas,
and never listen to your own if anger is in their voice;
don’t waste any energy worrying about physical “habits” that give you pleasure,
and don’t go along with your tongue saying that something detrimental is otherwise (and for the few, this situation is entirely different from everyone else),
and today’s, above-all:  don’t be a fool and act as though your normal words and thoughts know what they’re talking about when it comes to the life and nature of man:
speak confidently about potassium, if you are a trained chemist,
but to speak so about anything in man’s spiritual, cultural,  philosophical,
(which is to say) city world   --  is lunacy for the few: distracting, blinding lunacy.

The city mind with which everyone is born, by its very physical lay out and nature
can never know what it is talking about when it comes to strictly city matters,
(religion rather than botany; the entire spectrum of the intangible):
this (for the few) is a quite simple, unconditional rule:
thoughts that come from the “city area” of the brain’s consciousness do not,
cannot and will not ever know what they are talking about whenever they talk about any matter that the human hand cannot touch:
this (for their interest and core purpose in life) is an inviolate scientific law  --
to the rest of routine humanity the whole idea is non sense, if not insanity!
(here would be their normal collective reaction to the notion):
“No one’s thoughts know what they are talking about whenever they are
talking about any of the especially significant areas of the human experience:
the spiritual, artistic, literary, historical, political, and philosophical;