In an effort to put himself in proper photographic perspective
one man began referring to himself as: "The guy on the left.”
 

There are three things you can do for people: help them get out of trouble;
help them get into trouble, and amuse them.
    (“And that’s also about all you can do for yourself, no?!”)
 

Not Only How Mind Is --But Also How Things Are.
It’s not your fault you’re overweight unless it is.
(Alternate headline: More Regarding: Reality vs.The Truth.)
 

From course outline: “Advanced Jazz Appreciation:
Once you have faithfully read the score of, then faithfully described, a bare wall,
what is left to do but  take up the sax?!”
This is why graduation is not possible from any religion or philosophy;
all such ordinary based ideas about life are a self sustaining narrative sans conclusion.
The cliche's true: the city does never sleep  --  for to do so would mean its demise;
only the man with unencumbered eyes/I’s sees where trails end:
where narratives cease and reality takes over.
From his singular perspective of the city, the certain man’s mute motto might be:
“It’s been nice enough being here  --  even though your here is illusory."
Full time citizens of the city never mention living there  --  for good reason:
they’re not aware that they do.
Coda: If you truthfully don’t know where you are  --
that tells you exactly where you are.
Men’s minds are born to be confused about all the things they can think about --
but not touch.

How Mind Must Work.
Not only do doctors think of a hospital differently than do those seeking
treatment there, but also must the patients not think about this fact.
Ultimately in how the mind pictures intangible situations:
there is no right and wrong  --  only what must be.
Ordinary minds must be  --  and will be  --  satisfied with ordinary ideas;
for the man determined to get to the bottom of things,
this is not in the realm of options.
 

Food & Culture Prep In Prison.
The half-baked always praise one another’s culinary efforts.
 

As long as you are alive: life is a perpetual event.
 

A mind that can think apart from man’s collective one is like a wind tunnel
put in a swarm of bees.
 

As regards life in prison: one guy has concluded that the aim should be to:

Press & Literary Update.
Even though stories useful to the few have no moral  --  they are the moral.
The best of one man’s work was always unsigned;
that which is attributable is useless.
Any land already discovered is meaningless to a true adventurer:
once Leif found America --  he forgot about it.
In the uncommon areas of the rebel’s mind: only narrative routes
ever come to an end  --  right where reality begins,
and this is where the real-deal-explorer really gets going.
 

Abstruse Archeology.
Everyone’s principal neural patterns look just like their facial profile,
and while there is no conclusive proof of this, pottery fragments recently unearthed
at Site Two Forty Seven do offer some supportive evidence.
 

Fact: Facts are a terrible thing to waste: hence  --  none are wasted.
 

One view of why man’s mind is so pliable, and his vocabulary ever expanding
is that Archeologists and Zoologists will not merge themselves into the beckoning, befitting oblivion of obviousness.
 

Facts not only can never be wasted  --  they cannot even be stunted.
 

There is but one true harbinger of life: thinking, not on-the-cheap,  but fulfillingly.
 

Man’s thoughts ride a wondrous steed  --  the likes of which even they cannot imagine.
If you don’t know what is carrying you  -- that tells you precisely what is.
 

The corner the special seeker must ultimately turn
does not lie on the narrative boulevard.
 

The Big Bang Amplified For The Few.
In the beginning was everything that came right before now  --  and so on  --
until you can see better.
The History Of Everything is known  --  it’s just that there’s no one to know it.
Paths don’t know from whence they come or they wouldn’t be paths.
One man expected so much of his thoughts that they finally delivered.
Every morning one man required that his parrot swear allegiance to him,
(well, on those days the man forgot he was a rhino.)
 

A good prisoner spends a life time in his cell yet never examines it.
 

Even those who proclaim  that their head is screwed on right,
fail to realize that someone screwed it on for them,
(and not their parents, priests or peers.)