Another guy who obviously, if not indubitably,
recognizes the power, if not the terror, of words,
tells me that he’s changing his name to “Bill” just to
throw ‘em off the trail.


At some other time at this one place, there was a kind of cultish little collection
of people whose leader one day accidentally cut off a finger, and on the next occasion
they all met, the followers expressed their concern over his missing digit. He
covered himself by immediately declaring that his injury was a predictable result
of a certain “mystical ritual” to which they were not privy. Several days later when
they met, many of the faithful were missing a finger whilst those others who still
had some potential were simply missing.


Stiffening joints have made more men metaphysical poets
than spiritual compassion ever did.


I once became acquainted with a man who for many years toiled over his
“grand epic poem” which centered around the theme,
“Those things I once did see I gradually see no more.”
(You might care to know this was in regards not to his
growing blind but to his growing up.)


To more completely fill the unknown definition of a “Real Revolutionist” or a
“Neural Subversive,” a person should have almost no
ordinary psychological inner life.



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