On the side of a city bus someone had written:
“For the sake of urban sanity, never forget the debt we owe our possessions” --
what keeps ordinary men relatively upright and in-their-place
is as much what is outside of them as in;
with all other creatures it is only the latter --  all they have is an in
(as in muscles, bones, blood and organs),
but men (having the addition of thoughts) perceive their lives to be in large part
supported-by and dependent-on things outside their physical bodies
which they think themselves to possess  --  non physical things, such as:
religious and political beliefs, morals, love, renown, respect, et al  --
and what a curious illusion: that things which originated inside of him, in his thoughts,
are now said by his thoughts to be things extrinsic to him --
things with their own separate, stand-alone existence;
like a movie projector which treats the scenes on the screen
as having a reality of their own totally apart from it.
    Thoughts can plan and direct the hands to build a craft that can travel to stars
trillions of miles and thousands of years away,
but thoughts cannot say where they are at the present, or were a second ago,
or will be a moment from now;
you look at an extraordinarily complex machine, and know that it came from
human thought, but you cannot look at thought and know from whence it come.
This fact is of no useful importance, but what is is the fact that while thought can look at the world outside of man and itself and see/figure-out the procedures by which
things out there work, and in its imagination can picture how to rearrange these things into new forms to benefit man,
it cannot do anything resembling same concerning itself  --   and most significant of all: thought is completely blind to this (or pretends it is), and rattles on incessantly
with attempted cover-up stories:
this be mind’s normal condition regarding itself, and one which some who managed to step out of have referred to as a, dream-state,
compared to that which they experienced when free of it.
    Thought can see accurately a tree, a star, an atom, but by the very nature of the physical, three dimensional realm in which man exists, thought is literally incapable of seeing accurately  --  if at all  --  itself (that is, except for a few oddities).
 “Pa pa, when I grow up can I be an oddity?”
     “We can only hope my child  --  only hope.
       I am speaking decietfully of course, as hope has no place here:
       you are either born with the seed or you're not,
       and you either cultivate it or you don’t,
       and thinking about it (hoping) won’t see the seed to fruition."
“Then what will pa pa?”
     “No one can say.”
“You mean no one in the whole world knows?”
     “I did not say that no one knows  --  but no one can tell you precisely how to
      nourish your individual seed  --  indeed, posed in a verbally rational context,
      the entire matter looks impossible:
      a field containing a seed that is solely responsible for its own cultivation! --  hah! --
      none but the certain man would involve himself in such a curious affair,
                                                                                                                         (as if he has a choice!)”
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Cows who talk of freedom are fools;
men who think about it --   cows in trousers;
only a man daily fighting within himself the illusion that:
automatically-appearing-thoughts  =  thinking
is actually doing anything to gain it.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

You can use any terms you like, but it still comes to this:
either you are, at this very instant, in control of your thoughts,
or they are in control of themselves:
this being the one and only thing --  again regardless of how it is described --
that makes a rebel live the life he does.
 
 

Ordinary minds never grasp, as does the rebel’s, the reality behind mankind’s myths, fables, metaphors and allegories –
they love and are fascinated by them, but have no notion of why,
or of what they really say.
As though long ago, a parent made up a tale to calm an upset child,
which the now grown child still remembers with great affection,
but whose origins and purpose he has clearly forgot;
obviously this is how life wants it for man  --
and just as obviously is how it pesters the certain man.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

As he pored through books at table in the library, a man was heard to mutter: “Unacknowledged, harried hormones cause more putrid poetry
than all of the writing courses ever taught at junior colleges,”
and a man who had earlier boasted of having, lived-through-the-Dark-Ages
is now being accused by some of having caused them.
In city terms: the herd never lays down on the job;
the collective mind of man is always ready for combat;
thoughts forever prepared to parry;
tongues primed to lash;
the city is always open-for-business (just look in your head while you are asleep in bed).
Ordinary thought’s attempts to defend itself
makes the Maginot Line look like a military masterstroke;
those predestined to defeat,
mock howl the loudest ‘fore the fighting ever starts,
“So what d’ya take me for --  a fool?!  --
I should wait ‘til after the inevitable charge that I am an idiot to swear that I’m not?!”
When anything that occurs in the realm of man’s other reality can make you smile  --  you are beginning to shake the city mental dust from your feet.
(“Now if we could just do something about those pesky hormones.”
        “There is always suicide.”
 “Well I don’t want to kill my body just to stop them.”
         “I didn’t mention the body.”)
In the collectively conceived city-Institutions,
the doors of seriousness guard the chambers of frustration;
only cows  --  perfectly normal cows  --  expect that buildings constructed entirely by, from and for their bovid dreams can offer refuge from their nightmare brothers.
Cattle live a public life  --  and,
everything public is repetitious  –  and,
everything repetitious is a waste of a real man’s time.
Department Of Definitions: Man’s Institutions: prisons with better p.r.
Those who need others  --  always have others;
a man who needs the realization   --   has only himself
(and, P.S. one man does not a prison make [not a man who no longer thinks himself to be two]).
 
 

One man had so many little painful sores in his mouth
that he took the extreme course of renaming his oral cavity his, sore,
and then saying that therein he had little painful mouths,
and a passing proctologist said:
“That brings back to my mind the fact that: there is a way to get out of everything!  --  -- ‘cept sometimes it will get you in deeper,”
and one city’s anti civic slogan for the year is:
“If men could see the ultimate reality of the life thoughts live,
many more of them would be washing the dye from their hair than putting it there.”