A certain foundry man overcome by this, and that, and by his reading that, “being a consumer is now a form of work,” decided that unemployment could have its advantage.
A man who has “secrets from himself” hasn’t much of a self. (And, I might add, damn poor secrets.)
I rode a bus recently with a promising intellectual who, at least in his metaphoric travels, seemed to have his priorities in their most telling order, when he told me that, “An orgasm is like non stop thinking.”
Those of you who may still enjoy the house-of-mirrors torment, or perhaps, exercise for your old world neural muscles, toss ‘em this one – The closest thing there is possible to fiction in this life is in the single sentence that declares that there IS such a thing as fiction.
A father, in the attempt to protect resources and conserve energies, sent his four sons out to survey the world and bring him their reports regarding specific areas, and the first one returned and declared, “Religion is nothing but a business,” and the old man held his head. The second son followed with the news that, “Academia is just a business,” and the father moaned and shook his head. The third scion then arrived with his information that, “Art is no more than just another business,” and the clan leader moaned, swayed to and fro whilst beating himself on the head and cried, “Oh, oh,oh, and ye to come is the last son’s report on business…oh,oh,oh.”