There was a man who would read his mail, but then deny that he had;
there was another man who did not read his mail, but who would claim that he did,
and a third man who would grab your mail when you weren’t looking
and throw it in the creek.
(This item by the way is further proof that Jan’s Daily News does cover more than
just stories related to consciousness.)
 

According to the transcript, the featured speaker’s comments went thus:
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen; the way normal human thought works is like this: first it flops in this direction  –   then in that.
Thank you, and good evening       –   and where the hell’s my money?”
(In spite of the inclusion of the word, thought, this item too is clearly not really about consciousness       ---         wouldn’t you agree?
   “Okay,” injects a by stander, “the way I see it is if you don’t think that what you’re
     hearing about is consciousness –  then it’s not (of course it may actually be,
     but if you can’t recognize the fact then that’s the end of that –  jack!
     Leastwise that’s how I see it.”)
There is a curious fact regarding the attempt to ride that metaphorical orient express (which is): even if you believe you have boarded a train in paris proclaimed destined for istanbul, you will never arrive there -- no matter what exotic activities you
engage in -- unless you want to get there  --  unless that is your full intention;
yes of course, everyone who boards the train will insist that the metaphysical istanbul is where they want to go, or else they would not be making the initial effort,
but few of these have the personal wiring that will allow them to turn the words into nervous system determination.

How come only humans leave a legacy and not atoms, when after all:
humans are made of  atoms?
(“Is that why you never hear of a carbon culture, or a helium history.”)
 

Being a prisoner has no symptoms  –   not that other prisoners can see.
Once you realize this you understand why waterlogged washingtonians never notice the endless rain round mount rainier.
(Aka: You can’t tell where you are when your own eyeballs are, are.)
 

The Garterio Interrogatory.
“Okay, tell me this: Were you given the choice of being freed from either pain,
or stupidity, which would you choose?”
    “How am I feeling when asked?”
“Okay  –  you failed.”                            (“Somebody call Garterio and tell ’im the deal’s off.”)
 

Quote Of The Day.
“One thing about trying to wake-up is that even while no one cares if you give it up,
no one cares if you don’t.”
 

One man mused: Perhaps I should take up drinking or drugging so I’d have some acceptable excuse for my ineptness  --  which attentiveness would rectify.
 

The winner of this month’s Hiffelmyer’s Award:
“The only reason people continue to talk to themselves is their persistent lack of listening to how stupid what they say is.”
 

In his custom of sticking with only specialists-in-the-field,
one man will accept diagnosis of his intellectual self only from those with
advanced degrees in Engineering.
“Only puss-ass poets and those with hog-stomped-hearts will accept criticism
from those no more insightful than themselves,” (he notes),
“and this includes,” (he adds), “all everyday people.”
 

One man kept borrowing stuff from the local god in the belief that as long as he had something of the big guy’s in his possession, he wouldn’t let him die
and it get all tied up in probate.
Said the muse overseeing the segue 'twixt humans’ perceptions of an
in-here & an out-there:
“Intimate dealings with myself is all that keeps me going.”
(See yet another story having nothing to do with consciousness.  See!)
One man’s original motto was: “What are you trying to prove!?”  --   which,
with an enlargement of his comprehension morphed into:
“What am I trying to prove?” –   then ultimately with the term: “my-brain’s-automatic-consciousness” replacing the word: “I”.
 

Graffito found in a dead man’s ear: “A messy metaphor is a tasty metaphor.”
In one land resides a special creature who no outsider knows how to feed.
This representing another version of the maxim:
“You’ve gotta be there to expire there (and also to be revived there).”
The most dangerous form of flu is the pre-chill.
    “But aren’t you then saying that a man’s biggest flaw is his own self?!”
Better put: His biggest challenge.
    “How ‘bout: only challenge?!”
Bullseyeprofundo!
 

At home on Saturday night a man said to his dog:
“Why is it easier to be faithful if you’re ugly?  –   and what does this have to do with
the thoughts that come-courting my consciousness?”
         (“Arf,” thought Ralph.)
 

At first in his own mind he believed that any wisdom he had came from the books
he’d read;
then he believed it came from nature;
after that he saw it as arising from his own brain,
and once that view sufficiently settled in he became smart enough to shut up about it.
 

Due to the lighting arrangement in this Universe, men are not able to make out any gods or conditions that are not either optimists & positive, or pessimists & negative  –  but just because ordinary consciousness sees darkness in an area
doesn’t mean there is nothing there.
 

At the door in one man’s brain where thoughts normally enter consciousness,
he has posted a sign: “Hey! –   Who Do You Think You Are!?”
(Which he personally finds amusing on several levels.)
 

What disturbs him (says one man) is not the voice he hears in his head,
but rather his automatic inclination to seriously entertain the content of what it says.
(“Bullets don’t frighten me  –  it’s the thinking about them.”)
 

A notice on the telescopes atop the city’s highest building states:
“The Ordinary Only Get A One-Time View.”
An elevator operator there several times has pondered:
“Aren’t the thoughts normal to each man’s mind like puppies he’s given which instantly take to him, and him to them, and yet he never requested them!?”
    “Well, hey!” injected a heart with constricted arteries, “I didn’t ask for this either.”
Yeah  –   nice try –  but the telling difference is:
hearts can’t TALK!  –   and livers can’t lie to you.
   (“Are we back to the notion of each person being their own biggest contention?”)
 

One man used to stand in his backdoor and watch the squirrels  –
until he began to suspect that they were watching him.
“Some things,” he said, “even natural things, are too spooky to deal with.....
.....at least forthrightly.....that’s what we have institutions for:
to collectively worry about them for us.”
(He was secretly pleased he'd said: “worry about” rather than: “think about.”
“I may be a numbskull but one of the benefits of remaining in your own house is that there, you can always pretend to be otherwise.”
Aka: As long as they stay in the city of lights, all parisians are luminescent.)
 

In the city the things most clear are the things first to be criticized.
The fog that at times some sense around man’s inner reality is an integral part of
that reality.
   (“And some of us appreciate you having the decorum to say:
   ‘part-of’ rather than simply: ‘is’.”)
The few truly determined to get to istanbul (and awaken from the travel dream),
want to be shot square in between the eyes, while the rest of the world whispers:
“Just wound me a little.”
You can disembark anywhere between paris and the ultimate destination.
“Praise be to vulcan,” said a dagger, “that you don’t have to be the sharpest blade
in the drawer to still be part of the cutlery.”
Also reflected in the rebel maxim:
“The world’s big enough for everybody  –  that’s why they’re all here.”
     (“Wait!  –   have you tricked us back into covertly examining consciousness?”)
The way a real traveler gets into the water is by bypassing all the yammer and theory and simply throwing himself off a trestle.
 

One man said: “If it weren’t for the existence of the number three,
everything in life would run together,” and a chap next to him injected:
“Nay nay –  if it weren’t for the existence of the number three, one of the first two numerical possibilities would have long ago proven fully sufficient for man’s
mental needs,” (there was a third guy standing near by  –   who listened  –
but never said anything).