Those who say they have difficulty saying-what-they-really-mean  –
don’t know what they mean (or for you in high school):
Those who claim to be artists who speak of their difficulty in saying-what-they-mean, don’t have anything to say.
And from a reader comes this e-mail:
“Why do I prefer that the stories you report on have as their subject:
‘Those,’  or: ‘People who,’ rather than: ‘You’?
Sincere & Slightly Puzzled,” etc.
Come now: slightly puzzled?!?
 
 

The speaker said:
“If things were any plainer I wouldn’t have to speak about them,”  and the audience replied: “If things were any plainer we wouldn’t seek you to speak to us,”
and the owner of the hall thought:
“If things were any plainer I would be trying to get a second mortgage on this place,” and a dog passing by the building mused: “Wow & Bow!  If things were any less plain, just think: I’d HAVE to speak.  Such is the normally ignored hierarchy of things  –
as they get played out in men’s minds & mouths, that is.”
 
 

Another positive reading of the city’s vital signs is if its institutions
never get their just-desserts.
For Life’s survival in this Universe and on this planet:
the health of the collective must dominate;
for the certain man’s tolerable existence and ultimate aim  –  no such thing.
    No justice  –   no peace;
    no phony wars  –  no stress of conscription;
“I am delighted to have but one faux life to give  –   UP!”

The city teaches citizens: “Having hope-for-the-future is having the ability to look in front of your house and imagine you see a road.”
(When they get older it begins to include shoes in the mix.)
 
 

There is no such thing as good-advice:
there is valid direction, but not good-advice.
 
 

“The city,” said a guy, “you want to know about the city? –  I’ll tell you about the city:
The city is the kind of place that won’t issue you a name tag until you tell them
your name  –  that’s the kind of place the city is.”
 
 

As he walked down the cleaning products aisle in the store, a man given to
obscure explorations and unexpected inner experiments mused:
“The very best dust cloth in the world is one’s own hands,
so why has no one noticed this?  –   or have they?!  –
but it lacking commercial potential, have simply never mentioned it?!”

The acting office manager made an announcement:
“Some of those who called to complain, called a second time;
they did not say if they would be calling again;
they didn’t have to;
(this is the city, you know).”
 
 

Some men (when in the company of clowns)
claim their true calling is that of soldier (and vice versa).
P.S. The clergy disfavor this entire affair.
 
 

This gratis offering from one chap:
“All it takes to pass for an intellectual in the city is: a glib tongue, a harried look,
glasses and sufficient excuses, specific to your area of expertise.”
 
 

A man recognized by some as being insightful, today said:
“At this very moment: Human life is undergoing distinct change  --  though no one can describe precisely how; I can say that here now in 2005;
I could have said it in 1995 and I will be able to say it in 2025.  That's how it goes.”
 
 

As long as you believe that explanations may or may not ever be able to
explain anything  –  then that’s what you’ll be stuck with.
 
 

At the picnic their mortician uncle muttered in disbelief and bewilderment:
“Why don’t men believe that they are dying!?”  –
and one of the nephews asked: “Why don’t we realize that we are living!?”
(which of course sounds insane  –   but the unc understood the essence of the comment).
 
 

“Anyone who says that it is NOT all-talk is lying to you.”
   “About what?”
“I stand by my comment.”
 
 

At city auditorium the featured speaker presented the following:
“The god in charge of one locale admitted that things were not going quite as well
as he had thought they would  –  but which was all right  –
since he had never thought about it.
In the battle between conditions and those who coined the concept  –
put your money on who was here first.”
    “Okay,” came a voice from the audience, “I get your point, but how about this:
      was: who-was-here-first actually here before was: those-who-gave-it-a-name?”
“Sometimes you peoples’ follow-up comments and questions are surprisingly....well, something-or-other.”
    “Yeah!” shouted another voice, “additionally confusing.”
“Thank you and good night,” said the speaker –  and left the stage.
 
 

If you are the only man in your kingdom with a dragon, you can keep him
anywhere on your property with no concern for zoning laws.
 
 

Overheard in city college’s coffee shop:
“How do they expect me to ever be a great (or even just decent) poet
when nothing ever goes wrong!”
 
 

One man’s latest offering: “The less you talk  –  the less wind resistance you create.”
 
 

On his office door, one god taped a note:
“Fretting over intangible problems is one of the free perks OF being alive.”
 
 

A previously mentioned man revises his earlier comment:
“The less automatic thought you allow in your consciousness  –
the less inner wind resistance you experience.”
 
 

And in a related NASCAR story, a man in the infield intones:
“After being alive  –   AND fully aware of it  –   what could frighten me now.”
 
 

The king of one land would get up every morning.
 
 

On one world, by law, they have restricted belief in things to only
public, collective belief.                   (A place obviously destined for oblivion.)
 
 

Okay: The king of one land would wake up every morning.                           (Happy?!)
 
 

Always do men’s reasons for doing things follow the need for them having been done.
 
 

The local god in one reality said to his newly assigned assistant:
“I figure that your primary responsibility is to help me avoid responsibility.”

One man says that sometimes just sitting in his house, he’ll look in a certain way
at the stuff sitting all around him and be struck by the fact that it is there,
and that at that moment he is specifically aware that it’s there,
and that even though the stuff is there all the time, it’s only there
in that meaningful way when he is either looking at it or thinking about it.
He admits in advance that this may not sound very exciting to you,  but that the
first hand experience of it is a first class pleasure    (and informative in a most devious fashion).
 
 

Heard from the kitchen:
Quarterback: “Everybody is somebody’s left-overs.”
Tight End: “Does this include thought?”
Quarterback: “Especially thought.”
Referee whistles, signals, and announces: “Definition due to holding:
Ordinary Intelligence: Garbage that is alive.”
 
 

One guy with a gleam (or something) in his eye says now that he is totally convinced that complaining to yourself doesn’t do any good  –  he is looking for fresh faces.
    (“I say old sport: but could what you have just described have possibly taken place
in one chap’s mind?        No....wait....I don’t really want to know.                         Carry on.”)