All interesting biographies are fictional  –  just like ordinary men’s lives.
    (“Leastwise the lives they think they lead?!”
Okay -- if you prefer.)
 
 

How The Automotive After-Market Works.
After one man started constantly saying that everything bad happens on Tuesdays
and all good stuff occurs on Fridays, it began to be so in his life.
 
 

A man who gave lectures concerning ThatCertainMatter charged X dollars
per appearance (or if you think that’s too much, a thousand times that figure).
    (“And I’m betting this story is actually about how consciousness works –  right?!”)
 
 

The difference between a brain and a brain tumor depends on whether you are a
brain or a tumor.
    (“That’s ALL?!”
Shhh!)
 
 

The ole man told the kid:
“One way to identify people of mundane intelligence is that they will attempt to get your attention by declaring that you are the only person who impresses them intellectually.”
 
 

The current hot seller in one city is a book entitled:
“The Complete Unfinished Story About Everything.”
(In the city no one notices what you may find incongruous therein;
the sobriquet in fact faithfully reflects the reality of that peculiar place.
 
 

No matter how educated you are, no matter how glib of tongue you may be  –
neither the inside of your consciousness nor your mouth are by nature bilateral;
believing so is an illusion produced by the ordinary thoughts that infect the two.
    (Never forget that four out of five oral-neurologists)
 
 

One city merchant says that every time he tries to take-stock of his self,
he discovers an unacceptable amount of shrinkage.
    (Sometimes even hiring your family doesn’t protect you.)
 
 

One way to determine that you are only thinking in the manner you should be
is if it leaves you unsatisfied.
What makes a life of being pissed tolerable is believing that everyone else is also.
    (“Hell man!  –  not just tolerable, sometimes, downright fun!”)
 
 

One father gave his son this time-&-energy-saving advice:
“You can start to walk as soon as you hear a person open their comments with:
‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned from life it’s......’  --   go ahead and walk.”
 
 

Intown Fashion Tip.
If you’re never serious while in the city –   you can’t ever be embarrassed there.
 
 

Those who don’t see the humor in it all will never see it all.
 
 

A man pondered: “Why is not all city art required to be labeled either fiction
or nonfiction?” and his brain partner replied with the question:
“Because no one there is qualified to make the distinction?”
 
 

A man was so struck: “I wonder if I stopped thinking and talking about other people
that I’d get so desperate for something to do that I’d wake-up?
Humm, but even if I did, under such conditions  --  would it count?!”
 
 

One guy says: “What I enjoy at bedtime is turning on an AM radio and finding a spot where two or three out of town talk stations are picked up simultaneously, then setting it next to my head and letting it play all night; you should see the kind of dreams I have with that setup.      And throw in a big spicy meal just before I retire and  –  forget-about-it!”
    (What his cerebral cortex had to say about this was too muffled to make out.)
 
 

Everybody adapts.
    “No they don’t; some people fight the powers that be.”
Everybody ultimately adapts  –   even Life.
 
 

To wake-up & get to the bottom of consciousness requires not reverse-engineering,
but inverted reverse-engineering.
 
 

Guy at a bar offers:
“Any intelligent person understands that falling in love is all an automatic matter of hormones –  not individual preference and reasonable selection,
but no one realizes the same thing occurs regarding neurons & the thoughts one has.”
 
 

Compared to the Universe (which has none) Life does seem to have a sense of humor,  (or the absurd?) perhaps based on the desperation of the situation  –
making this maybe another example of the eternal story of: The tyrant & the satirist.
    (“Did you just slide us back into the subject of consciousness?”)
 
 

In the city, some produce souvenirs  –  a few, art;
such is the distinction between the pack & the independent wolf.
 
 

Whenever he feels history starting to get-up-close-and-personal,
this one guy’s shivers get shivers.
The man hungry to crack-the-case can only do so acting independently;
history is what happens to the collective; they are rolled up in a rug, placed on a truck, and moved to wherever they are most needed at the moment;
individual preferences pertinent to matters intangible do not enter into it;
only a lone wolf is free to prowl on his own  –  in pursuit of his own ends.
    (“Hey, what’s that in the yard, rustling in the bushes? –  why it’s unconventional
       ideas encroaching on my consciousness!  –   thank god  –   finally!)
 
 

One ole timer sitting in the ole timer’s area of city park was heard to remark:
“Hey, life’s hairy enough without you being a bump on your own ass.”
But would any youngsters listen to him?  –   hah!
  would any other ole timers listen to him?  –  get real!
    does he even listen to his self?  –   you’re not from around here are you.
 
 

And another guy has this to relate:
“It’s weird how now that the sexual intensity of my hormones has diminished,
I so much better understand sex  –  but how come something similar hasn't occurred with age concerning my comprehension of thinking?”
 
 

To the rebel artist’s eye it is the outline of the things sketched that is of
prime importance (or as the gourmet critic of one reality put it:
“The leftovers are where it’s at!”)
 
 

Some Lit & More News.
That normal men see a distinction between writing they label fiction
and that they deem nonfiction, tells an alert person all he needs to know about
human consciousness.
 
 

To a collective-oriented brain, normal liver noises can sound like gunfire;
sissy nervous systems are constantly frightened;
the rebel’s is too attuned to reality to be.
 
 

More About Packs & Independent Prowlers.
Within a species: if one creature can do something his neighbor can’t  –
one of them will feel guilty.
    (Want to waste one of your turns on guessing which?)
 
 

“Okay  –   Attention! young trooper!  Listen up!” barked a general to his son:
“If, on this adventure, you see a dragon, there are four things to remember:
one: no one else will ever see it;  two: no one will believe that you did;
three: you shouldn't be concerned whether they ever see it or not, and four:
you have no business caring whether they believe that you did.”
    “Why are you telling me this bit of strangeness?”
“A warrior shouldn’t carry more with him than is absolutely necessary;
those who do compose the collective cache of cannon fodder.”
    “And you’re actually referring to affairs of the mind and not the battlefield?!”
“What else!?  Where else are profitable battles possible for those of our lineage.”
    (More tales of: The Lone Wolf Patrol.)
 
 

Though independent thinking can be rationally made to sound impossible  –
this does not stop the certain man from secretly developing said ability;
once he can do it, the description becomes entirely irrelevant anyway.
 
 

While on a visit, a man asked an uncle:
“If mad or sad hormones are on a rampage in you  –   what can you do about it?”
    “Next time this occurs, come see me immediately and ask me this again,
      then I’ll reply by asking you what it is in you that asks the question,
      and then (if you’re really a bone fide member of this family)  –
      that’ll knock your head into a hot hole and you’ll have your answer.”
          (One man has a very personal sentence he privately pulls out at opportune times:
           “Get depressed and wear a dress.”)
 
 

Sitting by the park pool a man reflected:
“Being conscious is like having an alien sprite living and talking in your head –
except that it is consciousness-the-sprite saying this.”
(His thalamus then began to softly sing:
“I’ll chase you in the roundhouse Roberta, so that the game will never end.”