Why The City Opera Never Ends.
The fat lady is afraid that if she ever does stop singing she will die, or somehow otherwise lose her part in the production and vanish forever from the stage.
If the role you play in life is based entirely on the sense of a self that naturally appears in the conscious part of your brain –  then persistence in pursuing this role
is of paramount necessity;
any show biz success  --  even survival itself  --  is absolutely dependent on
your unflagging efforts on your behalf.
    (“Yes, I may be a shaggy dog story  –  but at least I’ll see that I’m oft told.
      Yes indeed –  that is the ticket.........it must be.)”
 
 
 

One prisoner confided: “The worst part of being in here is that everyone thinks
they actually know what’s going on.”
(Magellan’s kid brother never went three blocks away from home --
and was thus able to geographically remain mister-know-it-all.)

One man distilled his complete understanding into eight words:
“You’re only really conscious when you’re not thinking.”
His success in spreading this idea has only been matched by
his listeners' enthusiams in immediately thinking about it.
(Torqued Theology.
There is a special place of hellish torment awaiting those who take irony seriously.)
 
 
 

Ordinary minds can’t believe they’re hearing anything of value
unless it is in some fashion a condemnation of man.
 
 
 

All fun is at someone's expense,
(information that may offer little solice to fleas as they endless try to contend with the presence of dogs).
    “Did you say, all fun, or food?”
 
 
 

The ole man said to the kid:
“No matter how free and democratic may seem the setting,
nor what verbal support the leader may give to such ideas,
they will never hesitate to restrict any and all liberties to remain in power.”
The younger mused on this for a bit, then said:
    “You’re actually talking about the hierarchy in a man’s brain, aren’t you.”
 
 
 

When you don’t have a self produced self in your consciousness,
you have a natural proclivity to constantly talk about the unpleasantnesses which
befall the self you do have.
 
 
 

Words in conflict have no significance until they get some human’s thoughts in a dither.
(To help keep his ordinary consciousness pacified, one man wears a strip of fatback
wrapped around his head.)
 
 
 

When you don’t have to worry about starving to death (and you’re an ordinary person)
the only thing left to make life interesting is trying to make other people
envious of you.
 
 
 

The Law is unquestionably the most human and rational of all human creations,
yet it is the most hated? –  why?  –
because it strives to offer impartial judgments  --
for which ordinary men have no taste.

There was a man who frequently said that anyone who was awake
would never say that they are  –  which he never did  –
and which made him bulletproof in his subtle presentation of himself as maybe
being awake.
(A raven has got to be super slick to outfox a mongoose.)
 
 
 

Music In The City.
When the blues is being played in the basement,
it’s soon being hummed in the penthouse.
 
 

The Version You Never Heard.
Lucifer was expelled from heaven for not being sufficiently serious.
 
 
 

Proverbial Wisdom Update.
Knowledge in the material world can be power, but in man’s intangible other reality,
to believe that it is is to be forever trapped in a dream.
 
 
 

Regarding the inner explorer’s special game:
one guy’s personal shibboleth is:
“Take note of your discoveries  –  but don’t keep score.”
Only men not really awake try to compare their state with that of another.
    “Yeah  –   I may still sometimes be a dozing dumbass,
      but at least I’m not as asleep as ________(insert desired name here).”
 
 
 

The source of all you need to know is consciousness;
the secret is not in consciousness, but about consciousness,
(a distinction few ever stumble on.)
 
 
 

Every morning as he leaves the house this one chap glances in the full length mirror
by the front door and shouts at his reflection: “Outta my way!”
 
 
 

If ordinary consciousness was a rat hole,
routine thoughts would be a forty ton rat.
 
 
 

During a recent open forum in the city, a man stood and announced:
“Every time I  get to a place where I think I actually understand what is going on  –   someone comes along!”
Many people could fly before the wright brothers – what kept them from it
was having an audience of by standers observing their efforts.
    (“Is this why the certain man is secretly an internal hermit?”)
 
 
 

The things you know via your birth consciousness are discrete,
while what self constructed consciousness gains is too seamless to be so described.
The Love Cry Of The City: “Hold me helen, I’m just your type: I’m coming apart.”
 
 
 

City structures do not require deep pilings  --  hell! –  truth be told: hardly any.
Another of the beauties of the secondary reality.
 
 
 

Vehicle News.
If you wanted to you could say that the certain man’s intellectual ignition is hot wired.
 
 
 

If you consist of an ordinary self and want to be famous  –
self promotion is imperative.
 
 
 

The funny thing about the view from prison is that anything can be mistaken for reality;
what brunhilde reports as being so  –   is so  –  in the land of frost.
    (“Well, all that is important in a man’s life is what occurs locally anyway, right?”)
Well what could be righter    --   if you’re content with the consciousness you have.
   As long as you don’t know anything  –  you can believe whatever is handy.

“Oh, pa pa,” squealed the boy, “please tell me again those two things about automatic consciousness
that are so meaningful to our blood line's determination to escape?”
    “It is unintended and impersonal.”
And the lad rolled up in a ball,  happy as a hedgehog on heroin.