For men, there are two distinct worlds: one of dirt and one of words;
those whose lives are directly dependent on the first see little value in the second,
and do not confuse the two;
those whose lives revolve around the latter are little conscious of the former
as a discrete domain, vital thereto;
men’s lives are composed of dirt and words and the inattentive commingling of the two is what keeps the would-be rebel from seeing clearly to the bottom of things.
If you truly want to know what’s really going on with life, just make it your everyday work to be constantly mindful of whether whatever matter has caught your attention
is of the dirt or verbal world; the ongoing, objective awareness of this one simple thing will make your previously constricted eyes/I’s pop out.
 

The travel agent concluded his metaphysical pitch:
“If you find burping, farting and insult humor funny  --  you’ll love the city.”
    (Can you make out the metaphorical feature of this?)
 

Finding something fascinating in another person
is clear proof you do not comprehend what is in you.
The sea is full of fish  --  fish who are all fish  --   through and through.
Being less conscious than you can be is to be hypnotized by waves:
by ostensible speciesization,
but the certain man understands that it is all fish.
 

The Way Mind Works With Those In Power In The City.
A Mozart may momentarily entertain a Prince  --  but he can never be a Prince.
How Artists’ Minds WISH Things Worked In The City.
A Mozart may be momentarily entertained by a Prince  --
but a Prince can never be a Mozart.
And It All Finally Works Out How?
Mozart is Mozart and a Prince remains a Prince.
Metaphoric Musical Moral.
Don’t ask a dead frog to croak for you.
    (“I say! --  are you chaps back discussing my mind again!”)
 
 

What we’re made of physically, any first year med student knows,
what we’re of otherwise, no one knows:
lots of folks guess  --   but no one knows.
A mystery that becomes too fucked with, loses its allure,
(leastwise to puzzle fans with couth).
 

Looking at his body a particular man mused:
"The nice thing about having multiple fatal ills is that it clears your mind of
normal worries."
He then glanced around inside his consciousness, and said:
"Nope!  --  nothing about that pertinent to things in here."
 

To start off each day with a laugh, as soon as he opens his eyes in the morning
one man makes his mouth say (as though it is coming from his mind)
to all his other cells: “Hi guys!  --  it’s me  --  your leader.”
 

How They Wake Up On Some Other Planets.
One being shot himself in the forehead  --  then wouldn't talk about it.
 

Although he has a phone (solely for business HE wants to conduct)
one sage suggests that the most important thing to remember regarding this
form of communication is: “Never answer the damn thing!”
(Same approach he says he employs toward the city part of his consciousness.)
 

And one chap said: "You’ll have to forgive me   --   I’m all talk.”  --  sorry,
it was his mind who said it.
 

If you are committed to a cause established and operated by other human beings, welcome to the: I’m Quite Content To Dream club:
you are committed to someone's bout of indigestion, or fear of dying.
 

Ordinary men think and talk about whatever life wants them to:
why do you think they call the nervous-system-rebel a rebel.
 

Although he admits he’s not quite sure what it means,
one man says that he is nonetheless certain he suffers from mental hemorrhoids.
 

This email arrived:
“When I first started reading the Daily News, I thought it was my friend:
now I’m not sure;
what has happened?
Sincere (but puzzled), Yours,” etc.
Another example of how life causes men to direct certain questions outward
that properly should go to their own mind.
 

How A Certain Temperament Impacts A Captain's View Of His Vessel.
One man says he has become so immersed in certain metaphysical ideas,
and spiritually separated from his physical, carnal self
that he has started to have: out-of-the-experience-bodies.
(Now known in some ports as: How Neurons Some Times Seek To Sink Hormones.)
 
 

In city affairs: not-getting-anywhere is one way of knowing that
you’re getting somewhere.
(And up went the urban cheer:
                                                    “Yeah team!  --  yeah team!
                                                      sic them muthers  --  stick to your druthers!”)
 

Spiritual Tip For Those On Tight Schedules.
Rather than spending the time and effort to live a more religiously acceptable life,
one man had his photographs touched up to make him look more righteous.
Moral: Clear And Simple (And Seen By None).
In city affairs: It doesn't matter  --  it’s all the same anyway  --
you just can’t see it while you’re in the city.
    “Is that perhaps one reason men don’t leave?”
Or even why they can’t?!
Another City Anthem  --  Subtle  --  But Present Nonetheless.
“I don’t get it  --  and I don’t WANT to get it.”
(You might note that life continually keeps the collective adequately cheered-up.
    [The certain man gets humorfied all on his own.])
 
 

One fellow who has begun more and more to hang around the outskirts of town
is reputed to have said: “Not having any particular human emotion
is almost as good as not having any at all” .....................there must an error here:
he surely meant it would be as bad  as not having any feelings at all...........right?!
 
 

An outlier general addressed the troops:
“Remember: there is a big difference in dying-broke, and dying-in-debt.”
A man who finally realizes what is really going on, owes no one.
    (“Die free  --  live free,”  could be his motto.)
 
 

                    Dirt is dirt and dirt is dirt;
                    and as the new day dawns,
                    Osiris kneels down and sifts some through his fingers;

Note: A few of his later kin were able to entice a visit by the Shut-Up-And-See muse.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Jan'sDaily FreshRealNews