In response to cockamamie ideas that appear in his mind,
one man will frequently dismissively say: “In your dreams!” --  which of course
is the very condition of consciousness in which they would normally be acted on.
 

Said a father to a son:
“Of the multitude of talents men profess themselves able to possess,
physical prowess and an aptness for memorization are the only ones you can back up;
all others are plain self assertions, unamenable to any objective judgment;
think about the full ramifications of that: physical gifts and the ability to memorize
are the only talents identified by man which he can back up.
I urge you: think about that: At the end of the day, in every other activity man
has named, his claims of excelling therein can in no wise be objectively determined.

As he was dying one man thought: “The good thing about this is that
no one can now say I have no reason to be bitter,” and his brother countered:
“And what excuses your previous sixty years of being less conscious than you could have been!” to which he replied: “Why do you think I AM so bitter!”
 

One man pictured the words his automatic thoughts sent out of his mouth as:
mental exit wounds.
 

Upon opening his eyes each morning
(and sounding as though he was speaking for his mind)
one man would address any emotions up and stirring in him with the words:
“Okay ladies…”
 

Pharmaceutical News.
There are no drugs that will relieve the pain of the certain man not being awake.
    (“Thank god.”)
 

One guy says: “There is an upside to drinking too much:
you feel so good when you finally get over the hangover.”
(He says he’s now working on the problem of being mentally
too much like everyone else.)
The sick enjoy getting well; the living enjoy not dying,
and the certain man enjoys coming into a fuller state of consciousness.
You can grab life by the horns  --  but not a bull having a seizure,
and only those born with that certain determination can get hold of their self
before the jig’s up; the game’s over; the string’s run out.
(And as a courtesy to our one armed readers: You can grab life by the horn  --  but not a rhino on crack.)
 

Every night one man would be awakened to receive extraordinary significant,
unsigned postcards.....from a place with no zip code.....which only he could read.....
and enjoy so thoroughly that it made further sleep quite difficult    (it might be noted).
 

Everyone is guided by an inner light, but ordinary consciousness is so constricted
you only get to see parts of it, and never the force itself, head-on.
 

“Pa pa: when you’re talking with someone and they begin to argue:
has anyone ever caught on that you always let them win?”
     “Why should they?  --  why would they want to?”
 

City centered people will give you no respect unless you pick on them.
 

Regarding some meaningless matter, the city part inside one man’s brain
(in a specious spasm of sophomoric philosophical splendor) said to him sharply:
“Hey dumbo! --  there’re two sides to everything,”  to which he growled:
“If that were un reservedly so  -- I would be able to ask you to  --  step-outside!  --
and we could settle this once and for all.”
Fact: Sissy boys and apparitions always hide behind someone's skirt.
(And humanity’s standard sized consciousness injects:
“But if I don’t look after my interests  --  who will!”
[Certainly not the attention of the certain man.])
 

For the sake of cultural continuity: in his morning coffee,
one man always drops a dead rat.
 

No matter the conditions: All self-referring systems can expect some good press.
 

A Tip Concerning City Life.
If it is difficult for you to pretend  --  at least play like it’s not.
Only those of less than fully explored consciousness will  --
when a train is clearly going no where  --  mention it to other passengers.
There is a mental uncouthness that is natural to ordinary man
that is virulent to one seeking to push outward the boundaries of his consciousness;

In the streets of the city, a man rushes by and mutters:
“I am too busy to be more conscious.”
In the streets of the city, the city rushes by and says:
“I am too busy to notice whether he is or not.”
Sports News.
With sufficient attention given to the game: its impertinence can be realized --
then: overlooked, forgiven & forgotten.
 

The true knight has as his travel agent  --  his steed.
You take directions from one with something to hide at your peril
(unless of course you don’t actually want to be anywhere other than
where you are now.....which of course, if you’re normal  --  you don’t).
Surprising, no?! --  how easy it is to exclude normal human beings from
so much of the stuff talked about here.