Once humans have eaten, they need a hobby;
most people’s hobby is other people’s ideas and activities;
the religious and philosophical search for something beyond that  --  futilely,
but the search itself becomes their hobby.
If there is another aim to life than feeling good, none of the above mentioned know it;
if you are not personally cognizant of another, entirely off the normal scale goal,
then feeling good is yours no matter what to the contrary you may say.
(’Tis nothing deserving of but a sneeze.)
Only a few people never written about in the news engage in an activity that does not fit the above categories.
Men like all other creatures are born with a nervous system programmed for seriousness: “Thank god,” says the body,
and specifically: “Thanks be to the natural born part of my brain.”
The few (in addition to this) have a non standard neural operating program
that feels no such unbridled joy and acceptance to this normal mortal situation;
an outlier, unconventional area alive in their brain longs for more than just survival,
and distractions sufficient to keep one’s thoughts occupied for sixty years:
they seek to understand what is going on: not just what is going on in their head,
or in other people’s ideas, in other men’s lives, or even in their own life,
but: what is going on.
What the rest of the world thinks of as knowledge is case-specific:
their brains are wired to want to know about particular affairs:
(the heart of science & all useful thought),
while the electrical essence of the nervous system rebel runs on the anticipation of comprehending in a whole gulp the entire matter of being alive and  thinking about it.
(What a hobby!   --  Pastimes ‘R Us.)
 
 
 
 

Some brothers were talking and one of them said:
“The worse thing about popular music is its repetitiveness,”
“Same with movies," said a second, “And novels,” added a third,
“Don’t forget people’s conversations,” injected another,
then they all stopped and en masse shouted:
“Haven’t we talked about this a thousand times before”  --  and scattered for their lives.
 
 
 
 

A son asked a father: “What’s dangerous?”
    “Lightning, falling trees, tigers.”
“Which is the worst?”
    “Seriousness.”
 
 
 
 

Under a nom de plume: one philosophical author wrote criticisms of his own work.
(He  imagined them collected in a book titled:
“How Things Could Be  --  In The Land Of Three, Or More,”
[which he understood would have no attraction to any but him.])
“People are not entertained by what they do not comprehend.”
      “Hell!  --  everybody knows that!”
“Really?”
      “No......not really....................................(but I didn’t know what else to say.”)
 
 
 
 

Just as you’re a nice guy if you act like one, no matter what you’re really like,
and no one can prove otherwise,
so too are you a medigastical mystical fly-about if it pleases you to say that you are,
with other people’s counterclaims of no consequence.
 
 
 
 

All cows need companionship:
some cows need many other cows for the purpose;
some cows need only a few;
you may think this reference is to other cows physically,
which in part it is, but in other part it is not about something material.
When a knight rides out, he rides out alone;
only equals can equally entertain one another.
Ordinary men cannot meet their own standards;
ordinary men are born with neural systems programmed with standards
they will never meet;
the few come with a brain which has active, a normally unused area
outside the city part wherein conventional humanity’s consciousness resides;
their heads hold a standard unknown to others;
thus remains their activity inconceivable to routine perception.
Apparently as a joke, one rebel said his motto is:
“No one understands what I am doing  --  not even me.”
(‘Twas surely just a joke wouldn’t you think?!)
 
 
 
 

The certain man can double his pleasure by mentally considering things
before his natural born mind ever actually thinks it.
    “That’s weird.”
You mean that sounds weird to you.
    “..........Yeah.”
(One man’s favorite historical Native American figure living-inside-him goes by the name: Pokeaneyeoutdailyhontas.)
 
 

One man named the natural born part of his mind: The Inevitable Brothers,
and the area he had personally cultivated: Never Mind Everyone Else.
 
 

When one man heard of people being blackmailed with photographs secretly taken of them at a drunken orgy, he mused on its quaintness:
“Men feeling incriminated via mechanical depictions of them engaged in
mechanical behavior.
Geese paying money to suppress them appearing as priests is one thing,
but as geese?!  ---  gimmie a break!”
Seeing you for what you are: a grown man's game.
 
 
 
 

Another clue that you are still in the land of metaphysical philistines
is that they consider Art should be a reflection of mere survival instincts,
and thus serious in nature:
murder in music; shit on canvas; screams of frustration on paper and film.
The city culturalists’ motto: “I am miserable in mind, ergo  --  an artist.”
(You’ve never been curious: “Where’s all the awakened men’s art?”   Pst!  --  in their head.)
 
 
 
 

A full understanding of what is going on does not automatically contain the ability to convey to another the information in comprehensive form.
 
 

Ordinary men and minds are wired to feel that a recounting of the past
is good for their health;
ordinary thinking will never get to the bottom of things.
 
 
 
 

A father said to a son who had spent the requisite time in city schools & surroundings:
“Regardless of the so-called conventional wisdom they presented you,
here are the facts:
If you load a library of books on a camel’s back he will  become learned,
and if you save a scorpion’s life he will  remember it and never sting you,
and pigs can fly if you understand aright the inner purpose of technology,
and stick jet engines up their ass.”
 
 
 
 

One man said:
“No one understands me as well as my own partner,”
who happened to be passing by and injected:
    “But I don’t understand you at all.”
“SEE!”
 
 
 
 

Any question that has-an-answer can be answered  --
although the two are not necessarily the same.
Ultimately: it is only the blind man  --   blind to blindness  --   who sees.

Said a son to a father:
“Are you aware that you threaten to overwhelm me with all the stuff you tell me?”
    “Very funny.”
“Yeah  --  it was pretty lame.”