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Note for those whose neural civilization makes camp outside the City calendar:
While there “are” four seasons,
there are five times of year.

 

 

Then there was yet this other chap (with two "p's") who had twin kids; he told the first one that the most important thing in life was to be mindful of "what he said," and to the second one he instructed that a man's most pressing consideration should be in what "other people said"; then one day, (near puberty, just outside London), he stuffed them both into a valise and disappeared.

 

 

After much "soul searching," this one young man says that from now on, when confronted with filling out personal forms, he will, under the question of "Occupation?" write in, "Blabbermouth."

 

 

After a clean-and-rinse, if you “are” going to send out your
tongue for a press, be sure to note, "No starch."

 

 

Another Scene Taken Directly From "Human Life":
A man says that his "greatest fear in life" is that he won't live long enough to tell everything that is in his mind; his partner states that his greatest fear is a slightly "different" version of the same general idea.

 

 

While on one of my recent sojourns, I overheard a couple of creatures talking, and one of them said, “I hear that on planet Earth local fears are now all the rage.”

 

 

Threats and actions are two separate creatures and only the ignorant confuse the two...I'm sorry, there's a typo here somewhere that should apparently say, "and only the ordinary confuse the two," or else, "only the ignorant are ordinary" ...Sorry!

 

 

At a certain level, nothing (as they say in the City)
"presents a significant health hazard";
while at others, EVERYthing does.

 

 

A poet stood on a high, windswept forehead -- that should read, "cliff," and
be-swooned to the crashing waves below,
"Oh, for a life of sensation rather than thought!"
and an apprentice troll behind a nearby rock be-mused,
"Oh, for a life of the sensation “OF” thought."

 

"Real" SERIOUS lovers have untraceable genetic bonds.

 

 

Another chapter in that great sarcastic book,
"Oh My God, Look What Life Has Done To Us Now!":
This morning's mail brings a scented letter from a man in a neighboring City who states right up front that he has been following my ideas and comments for several long periods of time, and now that he has a car that will go two hundred miles an hour, there's no place he wants to get to that fast.

 

 

Primary affairs are universal and require no encouragement;
secondary ones are local and need advertising and solicitation.

 

 

During the noon hour, down in the City's financial district, while window shopping at a knish cart, a man in a coat joined me and after a certain amount of tuber tinged sniffing told me that he was now solidly convinced that they had the Dark Ages on purpose.

 

When it's all said and done,
(trust me) someone'll ask,
"That's “IT”?

 

 
  J