September 14, 2003                                                                © 2003: JAN COX
 
 
 
 

A boy asked a father:
“Is there any subject you will not talk about?”
      “Yes.”
“How will I ever know what it is?”
Fact: Unrealized by cosmologists, but certain planets make sounds that
only they can hear, in fact the sounds are produced solely for them to hear.
Fact: Psychology started out as cosmology (but along the way someone involved evidently came to their senses [those in both fields may take this any way they like]).
Fact: Some untrained look at lawns to understand city water systems,
and ski poles to grasp the carbon cycle (the mind in its native state is quite impatient, and with no time to take particular notice of the obvious).
There is nothing men have ever thought about that is off limits
to the man with the certain kind of mind,
this specialized mind however does not waste itself on the kinds of subjects
ordinary men think about.
In a field of clover (or shit)  wherein others endless present their opinion of clover,
and pronounce their personal like or dislike of same’s smell,
the certain man will be silently pondering the picture of humanity standing
in a field of clover with everyone yammering about what they think about being there.

There are some matters the certain man doesn’t talk or think about,
because as soon as the idea that would spawn such sets the toe of one foot
into his consciousness, he instantly recognizes it, then looks away, thus not allowing
it to wholly enter his mind and become a full fledged thought that he actually thought.
Commonly do ordinary men express irritation with rain getting on their roof;
they curse the rain by name when they hear it hit,
and in metaphysical frustration, attempt to stop it from falling thereon;
the man-who-understands-what's-going-on however,
when his ears hear rain strike his roof,
doesn’t permit his mind to say the word: “rain”.

As he departed the hospital a man thought: “By some diagnoses, I’m in bad shape  --  by my own, I’m not.”
(And he told himself he could take that any way he liked.)
 
 

History Of Lit (In A Dramatic Snit).
Books came about because men had titles and nothing to put them on,
(and thoughts said: “Yeah, we had a similar problem --  until we discovered man.”)
 
 

As he left the hospital a man thought: “By some diagnoses, I’m in bad shape  --
by my own, I’m not.”
(Which was due to the fact that he would not deliver same to himself.)

Ordinary men (without success) --
ordinary men (not understanding the dynamics of what they’re attempting) will say:
“If I don’t think about a certain thing  --  maybe it’ll go away,”
never (it appears) realizing the built-in failure of them thinking how upset they are every time the idea about the thing shows up at the mental door;
being angry at rain, keeps the rain falling;
fighting to get away from your dance partner is just another style of dancing.

The man trying to get to the bottom of things is never in bad shape  --
if he never allows his mind to speak aloud in his head, any words related to
what may or may not be his condition.
In a quite unconventional manner does the certain man protect himself
from certain ills by not hearing them diagnosed.
(“Yeah, I know: if it was easy and made sense, everybody could do it.”)
 
 

Additional History Related To Lit (In A Slightly Different Skit).
Books came into being because men had all these titles and nothing to put them on  --   (a situation not dissimilar as between free time and personality).
 
 

On a private part of his body has one man the following inscribed:
“A farewell said  --  is not worth the wind it’s written on.”
Ordinary men are continually trying to throw out things from their personal cache;
this cache (unrealized by them) is grounded on their efforts to throw out things
they believe to be in it.
Ergo, does not the-man-who-understands have to strive for the condition
so lauded by those who do not: to be: poor-in-spirit,
which they never rightly interpret as being: deficient-in-delusions.