In that galaxy wherein your destination lies, everything is instantly and conclusively judged by what it does – by what it does, and over there, they KNOW the meaning of the word, “does.”
Do you?
The most accurate name for where you now reside is The Place of Futility. Do you begin to get it? (And remember: this is not saying that reaching your own destination is not possible, it merely makes note of the limited shelf life of all maps.)
PART EIGHT OF OCHO
Only the unattractive demean good looks;
only the dumb, intelligence;
and only those still asleep
speak ill of the condition.
The only way a man comes to dislike his normal mental operation is to become scientifically cognizant of it.
Those who warn of conspiracies unknowingly operate on behalf of the Big One.
Daydreams of the “What if” variety provide the brain with continual millivolts of harmless (?) pleasure.
If you try to get-on-top-of the things that are going on in the brain that no one else notices, two outcomes are probable: the effort will either drive you to total frustration, or to a new kind of consciousness.
J.