(For those who enjoy rumors, there’s a current one that says):
Eternity is stored in a closet  –  just over that hill  --  just over there.

Another way you could spot a more awake man (if it were possible)
is that he would not be impressed by anyone who is impressed by him.

It was troublesome enough when he was diagnosed with a small brain tumor,
but then he became even more concerned when he realized that he didn’t know
which of the two nouns the adjective was meant to qualify.

One man mused: “How far is the actual distance in man’s intangible world
between the magnificent and the ridiculous,”
and (unknown to the world) the man who can correctly answer this is beyond either.

Every failed public figure assumes peoples’ memory of him
will ultimately make him successful.
How magnificent men perceive to be the mental images of themselves.
    (“But without them man would not BE the singular creature that he truly is –
       so is not a mite of imagination proper and essential to his normal life?!”
To his normal life, yes.)

“Fleas don’t care if an elephant dies.”
    “Yeah.......I guess.”
 “But they should  –  if they’re living on him.”
    “What the hell are you really talking about?”
And another man offers this question:
“How can you change what you are if what you are is a person who wants to
change what they are?”
Then another guy notes: “If you have to convince those who are affected by your undertaking of its ultimate benefit to them  –  you’re faced with a real challenge,”
and his consciousness broke in:
“Hey –  are you talking about me?”
And in reply the guy said to his brain: “I’ve been far too lenient with you up ‘til now.”
Then yet another man (speaking in the voice he hears in his head) said:
“Is my consciousness MY lackey, or am I its?”

Another way to tell that your consciousness is normal:
it leads you to pay for the privilege of watching someone else do something to entertain your consciousness.

The crucial feature of any modern festival or public celebration
is the listing of all the things you can’t bring or do there.
    (“You know,” notes a contemporary chap, “it almost makes sense.”)

Speaking on behalf of all normal humanity one man says:
“There is nothing more spiritually satisfying than delivering bad news --
particularly when someone else wrote it.”

The nervous-system-rebel leaves no written history of his efforts in the great struggle, least he mislead any of his kin who may follow.

One guy’s slogan: “Always be cool  –  except when emotion is needed.”

To the rebel nervous system: excitement and pleasure are not just synonymous  –
but inseparable.
On the physical level: just being alive is exciting;
the certain man however, enjoys yet another level unknown to ordinary men.

Serial Update.
Whilst noon-day nibbling at the university's Nosh Nook, a natty historian nodded to
a just seated colleague and noted:
“So many astounding things happened in the sixteen hundreds
that it was inevitable they have the seventeens.”

Martial Rundown.
The original idea for heat-seeking missiles came from thoughts
looking for someone to think them.
The world of ideas is like a 24 hour market, and humans  --  the immigrant clerks.
(Concerning work forces familiar and otherwise: one guy’s motto is: “You got to start somewhere.”)

Literary Reminder
People in prison always write about what they don’t know about.

To freedom loving minds: non aligned ideas are music-to-the-ears  (the inner ones).

Rather than the gradual, peaceful death of captivity,
the certain man would prefer to be excitedly shot, point blank between the eyes/I’s.
The rebel wild-wester wisely sings:
                         “I’m a lone cowhand,
                           not a part of no band.”
                                 (He understanding well that watched cattle never boil).

After years of exercise, experimentation, and just plain determination,
one man says he has honed his alertness and attention to the point
that he can overlook almost anything.

One man named his new estate: The Predictability Of The Inevitable.

Excitement over second reality affairs is not unlike sexual arousal
in the primary, produced by pornography.
    (“Oh my god!  –   look over there: isn’t that Cinderella!?”
“Yes! –  and she’s going to strip as she reads us today’s spiritual message!”)

In prison: the ability to think of only one thing at a time is the best insurance
to serving your time while remaining reasonably sane.
(Note: the would-be escapee lacks this talent.      “Thank god,” thinks one.)

Cell walls hide behind paint as reality does behind words,
but what the nervous-system-rebel must first realize is that words hide primarily
behind themselves  –   infinitely, like a hall of mirrors that has no end.
(Which is why the mind was pressed to invent punctuation,
especially the period & comma,
to give itself a moment [albeit artificial] to pause and catch its breath.)
The certain man’s ultimate escape is in and through his unexpected understanding of the nature of captivity: the same situation life is faced with in this universe  –
which is also what a man struggles with in understanding the universe of
his consciousness.
Into a closed system we are apparently born,
based on a neural system trapped therein perceiving it so;
the certain man (on some other hand) has a special frolic in his consciousness
that allows it to peer & hear beyond the boundaries of its own expressions:
thus can such a consciousness step to the very edge of man’s collective, inner reality,  (while realizing clearly where it ordinarily stops  --  and why) and look beyond:
out into the areas normally dark in the human mind,
due to them having no verbally describable nature.

A man who's escaped doesn't laugh at prisoners  --  only prisons          (and those who pretend they've escaped).
 
 
 
 
 
 

JAN'S DAILY FRESH NEWS