All of ordinary men’s entertaining narratives are about human anomalies
(in the negative sense);
only the certain man tells himself tales of the positively different sort of man.
(And one with characteristics he considers attainable.)
 

One man muses:
“If you don’t do what gives you pleasure  --  what’s the point of living?!”
and his partner replied: “Why to be ordinary, you nitwit!  --   someone has to be.”
 

Everyone physically and obviously: rides everyone else’s coat tails,
and ordinary men want to mentally also;
ergo conventional wisdom and the collective’s sense of reality;
the certain man however is not at all satisfied to be part of this normal arrangement.
 

Men frequently say they believe everyone reaches their peak in life
at some particular event, and the ordinary determine this by
their being recognized by others as having done so.
 

Amidst the increasingly rapid rate of change,
and in the grip of his own negative perception thereof,
one man spitefully scoffed and spat: “Progress  --  Hah!
Why when I was young we didn’t even have progress.”
 

There are fairies at the bottom of everyone’s well........wait......
does that say well, or will?!...........
 

Asks one man: “Is it not interesting that it is only when you are a nitwit
that you believe there are interesting things to tell about yourself?
(Is, interesting the right word?”)
 

One man has sent out notices announcing that he does not want his case reported on
in anything but prestigious journals.
 

Apparent Success In The City: A Poem.
                One man moved
                the clock from his bed,
                but couldn’t remove
                the one in his head.
There is: local time and universal time;
cellular time and somatic time;
components time and systemic time;
hormonal time and neural time.
“Honey, the game’s going on; while you’re up would you get me
another way of thinking about it.”
 

Optics: Expanded And Optimized.
So pondered a man:
“Since the pupils of our eyes expand in reaction to our interest in things seen --
why not likewise with our consciousness?”
Corollary From The City Perspective.
                Maps too pliable
                result in
                reality too unreliable.

                In the city there is a secret police in charge solely of night time affairs.
 

After a crowd had gathered, the local philosopher began to speak:
“A man who lives a life not continually reflected on has lived but half a life,”
and someone asked: “But if a man never makes any effort at all
to scrutinize his existence, how could he ever be aware of his omission” --
the wise one smiled (adjusted his toga more becomingly) and replied:
“Ah! -- I see we have a bookie in the house.”
 

As the people pondered the selection of their new ruler, one contender announced:
“I will allow my name to be considered only on two conditions:
One is that I must be chosen, and two is:
that I must be chosen."
 

The more promising reader need not be concerned about Bruno being questioned by the Church, or Socrates by the faex populi for the fact is:
if a man-who-knows ever stoops so low as to respond to questioning by
the Philistines  --  he has become one of them anyway.
“I have but one faux me to offer up to moi.               (Thank you sweet Caesar.)”
 

At an early stage in the mortal earthly game men decided that if reality was going to consist of: Kickin’ ass and takin’ names  --  they had to redefine: reality.
(And upon so deciding  --  did  --  and it took.)
 

Through endless war stories does Odysseus stay alive.
 

Inside the structure a first voice said: “Only when alone do I feel safe,”
then a second one noted: “Only when alone do I feel wise,”
and from somewhere came a third voice:
“If there is any connection between the two  --  I’m leaving town.”
 

At one time one man thought that the reason ideas about enlarging your consciousness are not popular is because it is impossible for men to agree or disagree with them;
he later altered this to: “…is difficult for men to agree or disagree with”  --
then ultimately abandoned the whole shmeer.
 

The King (in a drunken rage of lucidity) exclaimed to The Court:
“I too am a shill for fate  --  but at least I admit it.”
 

While struggling to swim  --  one guy learned to fly.
 
 

Ordinary man find their talk about themselves comforting  --  just the opposite of its effect on the real-deal-man.