What is more exemplary of man’s uniqueness than his talking, and yet, the full realization of his singular extraordinary potential has nothing to do with talking.
(The term, talking, has a special, specific application to the lives of the few who seek to clear their heads and stabilize their sight. It does not mean the same thing to them as it does to everyone else, and in truth, you must have had some personal journeys out of The City to grasp at all what is really meant by the term.)
All of City Life depends on talking. All arts and culture; all forms of mental fascination, car chasing and dozing; if no talking – no City. No talking – no sleeping. No living in Bedlam.
Talking upsets the balance and disturbs the peace. Godzilla and talking are incompatible. Tokyo isn’t big enough for talking and being big-and-clear-headed.
Talking is a conveyance you ride around on in The City as you search for a way out, but once out on the Open Plains, away from the turmoil of town, talking becomes irrelevant.
Talking is the means by which man mentally gets from here-to-there, but not by talking do the few get to that Secret Place.
Talking is consciousness operating at normal speed – which will never reach escape velocity.
Talking makes The City work, but also keeps consciousness from full employment.
Talking is what got Adam into trouble in the first place and started man down this slope City Life. Hey, look, everyone else is cheering the fact. No they are not, they are normal. They are just ignoring it.
Talking is what men do in public to get-along; talking is what men do in private to hold together the City illusion of their self.
J.