On one world the sign of a great ruler is that after years of pursuing a certain policy
he’d found satisfying, he will one day suddenly consider the possibility that
his entire approach has been bass ackwards.
    (“Damn!  –  that’ll strip the shellac off a cadillac and a sleeping  man’s eyeballs!”)
In the land of plenty (which is in fact: the land of the minimally acceptable)
the reverse of the standard is always a possibility: that’s one of the ways life stays alive in this universe, and the conscious part of the brain remains viable.

There’s only one door to escape  –
and it only swings one way  –
and it’s only present when the door frame remembers that it is  –
which it seldom does.
(“Guess that helps explain the rarity of escape.”)
In the way-of-bluntness(which is what is minimally required for certain activity)
explanations need no help.

Fact: Everybody in the army is stuck with the conditions and restrictions of their rank.
Fact: Everybody’s in the army.
 
 
 

The kid said to the ole man:
“My latest thinking is that casual sex is to waking-up as waking-up is to
everything else.  What’d ya think, huh? –  what’d ya think?”
     “Even kids need their theories.”
“You mean: to grow out of, don’t ya?!”
      “Even kids need their theories.”
 
 
 

One man mused:
“Seems to me that in our inner private life we could at least match the
common activity in the outer public realm (for instance):
why shouldn’t the voice-over you hear in your head that accompanies your life
sound as faux excited and cheerful as do those in commercial advertisements?!”
 
 
 

Says a guy:
“Anything the conscious part of the brain doesn’t like, it can disprove.
(Match THAT!  –  all you gods, gurus, kings, and other assorted know-it-alls.)”
 
 
 

Dialogue.
“Listening to someone talk is like watching rain fall on someone’s field.”
     “Seems to me it’s more like having acid rain fall on yours.”
“Yeah!  –   okay.”
 
 
 

A certain sort of edgy aggression is needed to awaken  --  but not directed at others.
 
 
 

“If there are people the conscious part of your brain looks up to,
you’re in a hole from which you cannot step.”
     “But if that’s how I am, I can’t help it  –   that’s just the way I was born?!?”
“Yeah, I know, and  --  tough shit.”
 
 
 

Looking up from a story in the newspaper, he asked his friend:
“Do you find it ironic that a group called the Peace Keepers fired into a crowd
who were rioting to protest-violence?”
    “No, I would find it ironic if it did not occur.”
(Your own good friend can properly translate this for you.)
 
 
 

Conversation.
“Some people believe that working in a doctor’s office will keep them from getting seriously ill (not far removed in a slightly different context from men’s motivation
to become priests and psychiatrists).”
      “Okay, I can see that, but how do you explain people wanting to be
        deep sea divers!?”
“Wow!  –  you got me on that one.”
You enter an intersection on a yellow light at your own peril.
(“Wait! –   that’s it: they go deep diving in search of perils.”)
 
 
 

When they don’t understand what TheThing is,
people like to talk about the next big thing.     (If not want to be it.)
 
 
 

The big question in some quarters is:
 If you don’t talk about you  –   who will!?
 
 
 

A father said to a son:
“If you can just get over taking the conscious part of the brain as being some sort
of a you  –  you’re basically home free.”
   (“Man! –  I hate those baseball analogies,” silently snorted their dachshund.)
 
 
 

Regarding Neural Romantic Entanglements.
The conscious part of the certain man’s brain is never on the rebound  –
because his synaptic heart never gets broken.
Tete-a-tete From The Back Seat.
“Either wake-up, or walk home.”
    “Better yet: I either put out or wake-up.”
 
 
 

And the unblinded blues singer served up his latest version of an old stand by:
    “I know I told me,
      long time ago,
      that I’d never,
      ever let me go  –   but that’s all right,
      I know I love some other me  –  but that’s all right.”
 
 
 

Every feature of consciousness can be explained by its cloistered existence --
its inability to physically put its hands on anything in the entire universe.
 
 
 

Once a man escapes from prison, he no longer takes any crap off of his self.
 
 
 

After years of struggling to achieve that certain inner aim, one man says he no longer needs metaphysical sounding descriptions for his common condition of consciousness (such as: being asleep; unenlightened; in captivity);
he now simply thinks of it as being forced to constantly watch tv.
 
 
 

Some places are stranger than they look,
  and some places look stranger than they are,
    but no place is stranger than it is.
 
 
 

A guy mulled:
“How much of its life does the conscious part of my brain absolutely squander?”  –     and quickly regretted he’d done so.
 
 
 

A man commented to his son:
“My father used to say: ‘You have to stay asleep to put up with being asleep.’”
(Later the lad mused:
“Which I guess translates into: You have to be normal to tolerate being normal.”)
 
 
 

Being in captivity breeds self abuse  --  and worse still:
the illusory sensation of there being a self in you other than consciousness.