September 16, 2003                                                                © 2003: JAN COX
 
 
 

The simple think there is nothing very serious about life except death,
and even that, they don’t take overly serious;
the more sophisticated think that there must be something to living
that is more serious than merely dying...........but they can’t figure out what it is;
there is as always, a third, quite, quite small,
never mentioned group of men who (as always) have a view completely different
to those of the other mainstream two;
question: do you know what is the only thing they see as possible for a person to do
in life that comes anywhere close to being serious?
(More verbally valid than leaving this with the word “serious” would be to note that eagles have no choice but to search for air.)
 
 
 
 
 

Definitions.
Being Civilized & Citified: Feeling the urge to have neurons override hormones.
DoingTheCertainManThing: Having a hunger for something more extraordinary than: being civilized.
Dogs in the basement howl  -- residents upstairs try to hush them;
the certain man rolls with wolves and gags talkative renters.
Locating News.
A man-who-understands-what's-going-on is neither this nor that:
neither wild nor tame; never giving himself a name.
The real rebel life is to live being driven by a desire
for which no one has the real name.
The Underlying Law: “If you know  what it is  --  you don’t have a clue what it is."
 
 
 
 

The power of conditions extends as far as you think they do.
And someone says: “How can you ever get out of Bucharest
if Bucharest is all you know?” --  the puzzler that seems unanswerable  --  but it’s not: the problem here is with the problem as it is perceived:
to escape your native born condition does not require that you know about anything beyond its boundaries  --  what you need is an understanding of knowing.
On one world you become an ophthalmologist NOT by studying other people’s vision.
 
 
 
 

Every city in this universe has a special area wherein street-level-seriousness
is produced (and readily consumed [it might be noted] by all citizens).
Law: If everything you know comes from where you were born,
you can be fooled by anything.
(The nearest to an exception would be if someone said to you:
“You’re not really a dickheaded dumbass from Bucharest,” and you replied:
“I most certainly am!”)
It is possible to deceive Einstein  --  but not Little Miss Muffet.
(Make note of this fact to your own mind................if you want to.)
 
 
 
 

It’s: There’re –Two-Kinds-Of-People Time Again.
There’re two kinds of people:
those who think you shouldn’t listen to anyone dumber than you are,
and those who believe that everyone is smarter than they are;
question: in which group are you, and how long did it take you to decide
after being asked?  (Plus: if you reconsider the question:
can you respond to it without acute embarrassment?)
 
 
 
 

One man kept wanting his life to be perfect,
and finally life said: “Okay --  I’ll be if you will,” and the man replied: “That’s not fair --  you’re smarter than me,”
and life came back: “Yeah, but you have a head start: there’s more wrong with you than there is me.”
Bucharestites who never leave home will always suffer from Bucharestitis,
and there’s nothing that can be done about it.
Corollary: A man who will identify himself as: “Dumb” will so forever be.
 

Constantly do people expect-the-worst, but sad to say:
not every day can everyone’s anticipations be fulfilled.
 

Mental Health Outside The City.
If a rebel DID ever need to be analyzed  –  there’s no one qualified to do it.
 

To save the expense of books,
one man told himself everything he wanted to know.
 
 
 
 

The Joke (Or Maybe It’s: Fable) For The Day.....(No, It Can’t Be A Fable,
There’re No Animals In It.....Okay): Our Fairy Tale For The Day.
One day, deep in a secretive wood, a secluded man thought to himself:
“I’ll bet that a man who has waked from the city dream
never tries to get others to do likewise, and I’ll bet it’s because he has his hands full trying to keep himself from drifting back to sleep,
(either that or he knows something I don’t.)”
After so thinking, he melted even deeper into the soothing wood.
 
 
 
 

From The Metagnostic’s Handbook.
“Art that is no more than a mirror-of-man is no art at all  --  merely recorded whining.
To a real man, the real study of man is not the counting of warts on a frog (correction): is not the counting of warts routine men imagine they see,
whose presence they blame on the civilizing of amphibians.
Every civilized person knows that something is (quote): 'wrong' with them:
people like that are idiots! --  even a damn frog ain’t THAT stupid!”
(and the pages after that are missing.  [No they’re not --
you’re hiding ‘em in your head --  Ha ha!])
 
 
 
 

On the q.t. –
whilst sitting on his settee,
a man so mentally sauntered:
“If: The Truth!  --  The Great Secret itself is a: point-blank-wall,
and IF I do finally see it for myself,
what will there then be left for me to think about?......(okay: fret about?)”
How The Critical Faculties Of Men Function In The City.
    Slop to he who sees slop;
    sleepy eyes by nature, slop see,
    now let those in the city sing:
“Oh, we’ll never get away, never get away  --  but that’s okay  --   to slop I’m born.”
(If you so desire, you may consider this story to be more metaphorical than