Views From the Rocket Bike
There is 12 minutes of Kyroots being read in the beginning of the audio that is not on the video. If you open the Gallery below in a new browser window, you can read along while you listen to the audio below.
AKS/News Item Gallery = jcap 1987-11-09 (0293)
Condensed AKS/News Items = See Below
Summary = See Below
Diagram = #132
Transcript = See Below
UFN’s – Unidentified Flying Nevers ( Ufneeded )
Diagram # 132 photo
#293 * Nov 9, 1987 * – 1:46
Notes by TK
Kyroot reading to :09.
The Real Revolutionist possesses “second-order sight” –the ability to judge a book by its cover” turned around backwards by the Real Revolutionist with his 2nd order sight. The aphorism is both true and not-true; the combination approaches true ‘correctness’. Cyclopic City sight sees one or the other, can’t hold both. Second-Order Sight (SOS) is the ability to see the other side of the coin in same view. It is seeing 4-D topology. Take ordinarily conceived “willpower”, SOS sees thru that concept; sees thru the next one of ‘psych complex/motivation’ and thru next of psych.-conceived ‘individual responsibility’. SOS sees Life as the ultimate agent.
The Few should not even think in ordinary terms; should not attempt explanatory talk re: This Thing because such is using old data; outdated info which, even worse, makes you think you’re making progress –doing something. The mind fills in ‘blanks’ —connects-the-dots— with the available Life-produced virtual experience (non-personally experienced, secondhand, indirect) to gloss over the staggering area of the unknown. It’s like there is a fog up to everybody’s chin apparently separating the head from the body (drawn figures on board) visually. The heads think they’re in charge while the unseen body below is picking pockets, fondling genitals or punching stomachs. In view of SOS all words mean the same thing; or all real info/words are in code–even if you don’t know it and think otherwise.
Real power is silent. Time converts all villains into heroes. The Real Revolutionist must make of his villains (faults) useful allies or they will never be rehabilitated –made pure. This requires the ability to ‘push time around’; ability to not wait for the usual pace of time; requires silent power. It is like being able to create the time that all ordinary people find as ultimate obstacle to their desired improvements. It’s not demons or psychological complexes any more that obstruct ordinary progress –it’s time: “I don’t have the time to do it”; “The time’s not right”.
Time/doing and the “rocketbike”. You’ve just got to grab what’s got to be done by the horns and do it!!! Time is the ultimate obstacle between you and ‘super-you’. You’ve just got to do it! And what is done cannot be reasonable; it must be irrelevant. Only the irrelevant circumvents time’s control.
Consider again: what difference is there between achieving a state/ability and the forcing of others to believe in your achievement of same? Connect this to making your foes believe they are terminally ill, impotent, that their time has run out.
Controlled ‘aggression’. Aggression is an outdated word. The protection suggested here is like an enhanced emotional immune system –but active– not a stoic response. The Few must absolutely extract themselves from suffering.
1:45 Epilogue comments: use no suggestion of ‘god’ in activities to expand groups.
Simply “being a success” is no sure sign of success.
For those with that certain, equal blood type, there is
almost no joy like that of your own original, meaningful idea —
When you’re a dimension short you’re always a day late.
Although in the City it is not improper for the pigs to
feast on the truffles, in the Bush the Revolutionist should only
execute his talents and expend his energies in a manner that is
ergonomically and economically proper.
From a certain Revolutionist view, there is no such thing
as “good” publicity.
“What you don’t know can’t hurt you.” “What you don’t know
can’t hurt you.” “What you don’t know can’t hurt you.” It’s
hard to believe that some human once said this…..and almost as
hard to believe that no one else understood it, (even if it is
one word off).
You can theorize, rhapsodize, and poeticize about life all
you want, but you still got to LIVE the son-of-a-bitch.
Two ways to tell it’s time to flee an otherwise apparently
intelligent host: First, when he reaches for his bible, and
secondly, when he starts pointing toward his flag. (Excuse me,
but I believe I hear my mother calling me…Thanks Mom.)
Any time that you forget that “the house always wins,” you
have ceased having fun, and are now gambling with your own
cerebral rent money.
You should never merely despise words, but rather, know them
and treat them with all due respect and disbelief.
Only the ultra-common could truly hate a dead man. (I
don’t suppose any of you expect me to carry this any deeper into
the unchartered interior.)
Back in the City I once read this, “The moment a man begins
to ask himself the ‘meaning of life’ he is on the inalterable
road to sadness and depression.” …I hardly know WHAT to say.
The Real Revolutionist knows that only the truly powerful
can keep a secret.
The People do periodically display a belief that life “could
be measured,” but they forever lack the resolve to discover the
necessary, new geometry. (Potential without execution, of
course, remains but a dead man without a cause.)
Anytime you feel disturbingly despondent, serious, or
excited, just remember, even the President doesn’t know all the
words to “Louie Louie.”
Is the Real Revolutionist the ultimate specialist, or the
Listening to serious music can make you serious.
Can a man feel “guilty” over any action unless He can
mentally remember it and think about it? Can the “conscience”
conceived of in the City go any deeper than the width of words?
I’ve heard men say that “To teach is to learn twice,” and
I gotta admit that it will at least reinforce one’s present
opinions and ignorance, and that IS what it’s all about, right?
If, as some City religions believe, wearing one’s collarbackwards is good for one’s spiritual being, just imagine the
benefits, were one able to do likewise with one’s head.
In the City Library I once read this comment, “The most
pressing of Man’s problems are not to be solved, but merely
outgrown.” (I wonder how long he expected the rest of us to
On his deathbed, one Ruling Power serenely summarized
thusly, “Ah, all is surely well with my life as spent, how ELSE
could I have possibly gone wrong.”
Truism Update #24: “Evil is to whom evil thinks.” Version
1987: Lithium is to whom lithium thinks.
“And-then-I-wrote”…No, seriously, folks, I composed this
little song for Man, and it goes something like this: I got
molecules that taste, I got molecules that touch, I got molecules
that hear, smell and see; Then I got this “elemental sensation,”
an “atomic generation,” called “ME.” (For the time being, supply
your own tune.)
You should probably never agree to “hold hands” and “be
buddies” with anyone who doesn’t like latin music. (Or at least,
And off at a certain right angle, I surveyed the falling
place of the few recruits, and discovered on each hidden
headstone the same epitaph, “There was none, save one, to show me
my way home.”
VIEWS FROM THE ROCKET BIKE
Copyright (c) Jan M. Cox, 1987
Document 0293, 11/9/87
While the city is based upon binary appearances and cyclopic perception, the Real Revolutionist has available to him what amounts to a second order sight. Second order sight would be that which would allow someone to derive fresh information from outdated binary contraries.
How about an example from the great, wide world of city maxims: “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” Second order sight could theoretically learn something from that proverb as given. I say “theoretically” because the nutritional value has already gone. But if the Revolutionist was pushed, forced, threatened, or wanted to, he or she could stand up and wax poetically, preach sermons, and concoct on the spot a whole new system based upon the fact that you obviously cannot judge a book by its cover. There are even some people in the city who can almost do that.
But second order sight reveals that you can turn that proverb backwards, and it is just as true. Just as true. It should strike a lot of you immediately. You damn well can tell a book by its cover. You have got to be an idiot, city born and city bred, to believe that you can’t judge a book by its cover. What the hell is the sense in having a cover?
Now this is not simply funny. With second order sight, you can take any statement of cultural, psychological, or spiritual import from the wonderful world of Man and turn it backwards. And you then can derive new information from it. Lest you take this too easily, this is not word play. It is taking fresh information from outdated binary contraries for which the expiration date has long since expired. Without second order sight you are buying important information and accepting data having to do with your very life, which is, dare I say it, thousands of years out of date. Of course, there are people in the city who could say that “the old truths have now been superseded by fresh insights”. They take the new insights as being an update. But from a revolutionary view, if it’s an accepted fact in the city, it’s outdated. Whether it be five minutes or five thousand years old, it is all the same thing.
It is not that the reverse of a statement is correct, but that the reverse is as true as the original. Neither one is correct, but both of them put together at least bring you to the level of second order trueness. You are still about one horse shoe shy of the post of correctness, but you now have enhanced truthfulness. You would then have a certain kind of sane, irrational person who could see both sides of a question simultaneously, and they would be prime candidates for This. If you have the ability, while everyone else in the city is hollering, “Heads is true, heads is true,” you can turn it over and understand that “tails” is also true. And it’s not simply that the other side offers new theoretical insight. There is a connection. There is something holding the fact that “you can’t judge a book” together with the fact that “you can”. That connection is where fresh data comes from, that big old “E” farm. The Real Revolutionist would be continually expanding ordinary knowledge into a kind of 4-D topology.
Let me go off at a slight right angle. Take the example of “will power”. That is, when someone quits smoking or drinking, it is attributed to that person’s “will power”. It apparently took an act of will. Second order sight would go beyond what everyone else calls “will power” and would look into the area of motivation, to use ordinary terminology. A person does not, in some isolated way, suddenly decide to lose forty pounds and then actually do it. There was some motivation if that person changed. A doctor said, “If you don’t lose weight, you’ll die in a year.” Something motivated the person’s act of will power.
Now for the quick part: if second order sight can go beyond such areas as “will power” into such areas as “motivation”, then Revolutionary consciousness has to go even deeper. It has to be more angled still. Revolutionary consciousness goes past the point where, even with “motivations” thrown in, and individual was apparently responsible for some action. Revolutionary information exposes Life itself as the ultimate culprit. It is Life that is the real cause, and this fits no psychological, philosophical, or scientific schematic (unless we’re talking about some theoretical, anthropomorphic idea, which is simply a warmed over Grecian dream). City folks cannot handle it.
It’s not the people involved in a recurring situation, such as wife beating: “Why does he do it? Why does she keep coming back for more?” It’s not them, it’s not their parents, and I hate to tell you, it’s not even society. It’s Life itself. That is where This goes off at a very surprising and ofttimes untraceable angle. It is information so fresh that it doesn’t really fit into old ears. It is a key so fresh that Life has yet, on any large scale, to make locks which it might open. Nobody needs to get past those locks except you people. And some of you, me (and the kid) have doubts about. But at least we got you off the street and our hubcaps are safe twice a week.
A little more about 4-D topology. Those attempting to do This should not even be speaking in ordinary terms of thought. You should not even be thinking in ordinary terms of speech. You should not be thinking in any way that you could talk about. If you do any of that, you are using outdated binary contrasts which are of no value, to say the least. Because it’s worse than that, it makes you think you are going somewhere. It makes you think you are thinking, when you are not. You’re just having a citified mental turnaround. You should be forcing the Yellow Circuit into taking 3-D reality to the level of 4-D topography.
Again, lest any of you thought it was too obvious, you are surrounded by cliches, such as, “you can’t judge a book by its cover”. From a revolutionary viewpoint, if it has been said twice, it is a cliche. Maybe you do not speak in cliches, but take a look. You think in cliches. You continually deal in cliches. It is as though you are continually being aware of the picture of reality and it’s a connect the dot picture. You fill in the missing information between the dots with information not derived from your personal experience. And I repeat, in the city this is fine. It is a short cut. It’s a way in which you can operate without having to have experienced every little thing in the complex life of the city.
The important thing is to finally realize that you “know” things in the ordinary Yellow Circuit which you don’t really know. You fill in reality with that which you have never experienced. I’ll tell you one more time, it is not “wrong”. You could not live in the city at the rate at which men are forced to live, did you not do that. But in between is something necessary and useful to see. It is a useful gap from which you might derive new information.
Now we are getting into a real good right angle area about which I’m not going to say much more, because I could potentially spoil it. Some of you might think, “Ah, I see it.” You recall my picture of a person passing a Do Da Warehouse? You ordinarily fill it in, “Oh, yes, a Do Da Warehouse,” even though you’ve never been in a Do Da Warehouse. But your fill in makes enough sense that you do not stop and become immobile. Life does not come to a standstill while you realize, “Wait a minute. Who am I fooling? What in the god’s name is a Do Da Warehouse? Matter of fact, I don’t even know what a warehouse is. Oh, I’ve seen them in movies and I know the word, but I do not know personally what a warehouse is.”
That is the nature of ordinary Yellow Circuit activities: filling in between the dots.
If you are being a Real Revolutionary Recruit, you should not allow yourself to think in ordinary terms of thought. You should not let even your speech be based upon the ordinary terms of thought. And it is not simply a matter of stopping thought. That has been tried over and over and over. And it is not enough for a Real Revolutionist to sit around and hope that one mystical day something will come upon him and stop all of his mechanical, preordained, and non-nourishing perceptions, so that he will be suddenly freed to see miraculous things. The Few people who are not “to the manor born”, but “to insanity born” — to the bushes born — should be making the active attempt to find the usable gap between the mind’s continual filling in of the blanks, and something else. It’s not THE something else. It’s not the opposite of what your mind would have filled in, but that is a place to start. Because the opposite is just as pregnant and potentially nourishing as what your mind would normally have supplied.
In the city, people are living in what amounts to a fog up to the chin, and all of the heads believe they are in charge. All of the heads pretend they’re in charge, and yet, right below the haze you’ve got pockets being picked, shins being kicked, parts being fondled, and deciding blows being dealt. But from the fog up, it’s a whole other pretend world. Of course, that’s more truth than fancy, is it not? That’s more reality than allegory. It’s more certain than cartoonish.
How much goes on? How many of your daydreams are filling in the blanks, and “making sense” of that which, from one viewpoint, makes no sense to you? Or making that which is outside your experience become apparently instantaneously operational and understandable? It would seem that this process is taking place from the chin up, and that each and every head in the city pretends it is in charge. But below the haze, I suggest to you, nefarious, notorious, cogent, and telling deeds are taking place which almost seem removed from these floating heads.
I will point out to you another exciting area. From second order sight, all words are seen to be basically the same. All words mean basically the same thing. Don’t they? Or, if that’s too strange, let me put it another way. All real, new information words are in code. This has no pertinence whatsoever in the city, but for the Few, it does. If you can listen fast enough, a Real Revolutionist attempting to convey some new information not known in the city would be conveying it in code whether he intended it to be or not. It would be in code whether he knew it or not. (This is not exactly true, as always, but it is true enough for me to say it.) If it’s new information, it’s in code. That’s just a fact, I’m sorry. (Of course, I am not sorry, it’s just a figure of speech.)
It is only ordinary outdated information which seems, as it should, to be obvious and self evident. If that were not so, the city would fall apart. Real, new information is like a spoiled four-dimensional brat. It’s in code whether you like it, don’t like it, recognize it as such, or recognize it not as such. That is, even if it seems to you to be self evident and direct, you are wrong. It is not. You are only seeing shadows of something through contrast.
Next section: Real power is silent, and time turns every deranged, disreputable conqueror into a heroic warrior.
The Revolutionist must take all of his thoughts, apparent shortcomings, and complaints, and turn them into willful weapons, controlled combustion, and useful allies. If he does not, he will never rehabilitate his villains and deranged me’s.
I’m not talking about a citified rehabilitation. This is more like making a virgin out of that which seems to have been corrupted. In the city they do not believe in real rehabilitation — they call it reform, and it is based on gradual improvement. But as I pointed out, given enough time, every villain comes to be remembered as a hero (at least in his homeland). There is a way in which you must turn your villains into useful allies, and to do that in one lifetime you have to learn how to push time around. If someone listening is indeed attempting to go off into a right angle time warp from the city, I assume that you do understand, there is the distinct possibility that if you wait until you die, some hope may be gone. Some possibility of extensive change may be lost when you die. To do it in sixty-five years you have to push time around.
We are here talking about doing the impossible. We’re talking about having silent power. We’re talking about an understanding that out in the bush, the only question is: “If this needs to be done, am I going to do it?”
That’s the only question. It’s not the question, “Am I going to do this tomorrow? Am I going to do this so that someone will see me? Am I going to do this and then explain it? Am I going to do this and then tell someone about it? Am I going to do this until I get real tired and discouraged?” And so on, and so on, and so forth. If there is any one thing that almost makes me want to abandon and/or engage in fisticuffs with people who by all appearances and smell are very likely “to the bush born”, it is their serious inquiries and concern over “the pressing difficulties in their lives keeping them from making the necessary progress”.
It is as though they think I’ve been saying that everyone here should have a rocket bike. And it’s as though after some length of time they come to see me, and they are apparently pushing this thing that I’ll assume is a rocket bike. Either literally, physically, or otherwise, they sort of push this invisible thing and then they want to ask me about how to get going. And what it amounts to is that I want to turn to them and say, “Have you got a rocket bike, as far as you’re concerned?” And people more or less go, “Yeah, I believe I do.” And then I say, “And you’ve got your rocket bike license?” They say “Yup.” So I say, “And you have your rocket bike shoes, leather pants, and all that?”, “Yup.” “And your inquiry seems to be about why you are not someplace quite far from here?” And they reply, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
It is at this point, if you and I were just 3-D characters, that I want to put my hands around the throat and say, “You idiot, why don’t you get on the son-of-a-bitch and ride it then?” But no, they shine it, and kick the tires while bemoaning their inability to travel.
Of course, in that situation there is the tacit “time problem”. It takes time to learn to ride a rocket bike, perhaps even to become accustomed to having one. And, of course, it takes time, even if you get on it and ride, to get from here to god knows where. Well, so what? You are certainly displaying all the signs of an astounding intellect by standing there talking about it. Right off the bat, I’m impressed.
Pushing time around is being able to grab what needs to be done. And far too many of you people are leaning on your imaginary handlebars. You already know what needs to be done. Right now, you know things you should do. But there seems to be always the matter of time. The only way to deal with so-called problems in a revolutionary acceptable manner is to grab it and do it. And, in fact, to do it silently.
You could look at time as being one of the prime villains standing between you as super hero and a new order of treasure inside the castle. There are some of you who now think, “Hey, time is running out.” There is a way in which you can see this perception of horizontal time as being an arch enemy. Because if it weren’t for time, what stands between you knowing what to do and doing it? If you depend on horizontal time to deliver something extraordinary to you, the very best that can happen is that just as they are throwing the first shovel of dirt into your grave, the extraordinary will drive up in a limousine and have a story (if you could hear it) about being late.
You do understand, don’t you, that when I say, “Do things directly, and don’t fool with time,” I’m not talking about anything relevant. That doesn’t count. Only the irrelevant can be done outside of time. That is the only way to get what feels to be new energy. You don’t start off with your own villains and shortcomings and attempt to change them. You’ve been attempting the relevant all your life, and have you succeeded? I’ll hold my breath while you tell me.
It’s got to be the irrelevant (not grossly irrelevant; you can’t even comprehend that). If you find out how to do the irrelevant, then you find out that what appears to be the press of time does not seem to apply. It’s as though time doesn’t care. And this is not by any means limited to some physical activity you take up. To put it crudely, you could decide to think in a different way about something. You as a citified person have no inherent interest in changing your thought patterns about this specific thing, but you do it anyway. It’s a useless hobby, like someone who does 1000 sit ups every morning suddenly working up to 2000. And time goes, “Huh?”
But we have a different story if you try to deal with something naturally abhorrent to you in yourself. Then it’s another matter. For some reason, will power, motivation, who knows, you decide to lose that extra weight you are carrying. Buy some diet books, read about it, think about going to the gym. If time were taking any notice of you under these conditions, time would know all is well with your soul. You are then city born, city bred, and you’ll buy the farm in the city. Time has no worries about you at this point.
If you start doing that which seems to be almost useless, you can begin to push time around. And I assume that many, many of you suspect that the point of this is not to spend the rest of your life doing irrelevant things. Of course, you could suspect that, and you’d be wrong, but you can suspect it, if you want to. It just shows that you’re still logical. It just shows that you’re still partially sane, and we’ve got a long way to go, and what is running out?
I believe it is time to ask you again: What is the difference between actually being in possession of certain abilities, and forcing people to believe that you have such abilities? What’s the difference? I am aware of the fact that I’ve asked this before. (Of course, in the city they would think I meant that you’d be forcing other people to believe you have some ability you really don’t have. I guess if I was going to say that in the city I’d have to rephrase it. Well, I don’t have time to think about it.)
What if all of your shortcomings, quirks, psychological San Andreas faults, and semi-secret perversions do exist? What if you and everybody else are full of little horny-toed demons with little horns? It’s not a bad picture, when you think about how jealousy and anger can make you almost choke, like there is a little bitty demon inside squeezing on your windpipe. Everybody tries to fight them. But what if, instead of going through this obviously useless battle, you could begin to make them think they are suffering from some terminal illness? As though they were impotent? What if you forced them to believe that you had miraculous powers which you might not really have?
I have mentioned in the last few weeks a kind of absolute self-protection, a kind of controlled aggression. Let me remind you, ordinary aggression is a city ill for which there is no treatment. It is part of that fog I spoke of earlier. You cannot live in the Bush while suffering from city bred aggression. What I mean by controlled aggression is far removed from ordinary hostility of any kind. It is like an internal individual molecular production of an enhanced emotional immune system, and it has to be active. It is not some version of imagined stoicism. You cannot protect yourself in the Bush by curling up like a hedgehog. There are no fox holes in the Bush. The only way you can defend yourself, revolutionarily speaking, is through a kind of willful offense.
Who knows now whether I’m talking about affairs between you and other people, or something else? Time is running — where? Short. So you figure it out. But I will tell you this: as long as someone is throwing water on your combustion, as long as somebody is rattling the cage in your lab, you’re not in the bush and you are not doing anything. Period. I won’t say you’re getting any worse, but you’re not doing anything, no matter what you seem to be doing. No matter even if you are sitting here listening to me, which we might assume for a laughing moment is the epitome in your life of the conveyance of new information. If you are suffering the slings and arrows of routine misfortune, then you are molecularly the same creature you were born as back in the city. Anything else, under those conditions, is a cartoon. It is your mechanical day dreaming.
There is a kind of willful hold you must take on protecting yourself. It takes a kind of revolutionary, unnatural strength and it’s not something you show off. It is not something that other people will necessarily know you are doing, but it is at the heart of what some of you believe are the pressing interpersonal problems of your life. The ordinary level of the shit creek can not be part of your everyday affairs. It’s there, and the others are still playing in it, but you have got to extract yourself from it. There is no such thing as holy suffering. You will not be righteously benefited by having your feet stepped on, nor by believing your feet are being stepped on.
And yet, look at this. If the undesirable aspects of your life were suddenly jerked out from under you, what in the hell would you do? You would be overloaded with free what? Time, not coupons. Would you be bored, or what? What would your own Yellow Circuit lab be dealing with after that? Would it be the ultimate shooting of the ultimate wild duck, all dreams are gone, all bets are off, “Where do I go from here?”
Ah, but wait, if you had that much free time, then you could worry about having too much free time. Such are the built-in remedial aspects of the city structure, because that is what would happen. People would be so bored they would begin to look for new ways to commit suicide.
It’s only in the bush that things come to an inconclusive conclusion. I’ve tried to teach each and every one of you: commas, commas, commas. Nothing but commas. It always seems to end in a somewhat inconclusive manner, do it not? Or do it ever! But I should point out, that’s just from your view. Because I’m always satisfied. All right, it is a little unfair, but since there are no questions at all, we will stop here, if I have enough time to stop.