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Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
TRAFFIC IS ALWAYS
JAMMED UP IN THE CITY
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Waving On Through The Certain Few Since 1932
August 18, 2003 © 2003: JAN COX
A father reminded a son:
“As you read and listen to things said about that special subject of interest
to our family, remember: Don’t choke on the medium — on the middle-man:
be forever striving to locate the true source of whatever it may be
presently captivating your mind, and not stay mired in thoughts about
the thing named as its source.
If talk be necessary to get to a certain place, never forget that talk must use words,
but that you cannot mistake the medium of language as the reality
it is intended to symbolize;
not operationally grasping this is what dozing-your-life-away-in-a-secret-prison is.”
* * *
A just recompense and an obtuse object lesson,
in one city, the first person of each new generation who declares:
“There are two ways of looking at everything,”
is both exonerated and executed.
The solution found to the rodent problem in one urban area was
to attach pretty pink ribbons to all the rats.
(Does anyone need a fresh reminder of where the city is in these writings.)
* * *
Using a system he personally developed,
one chap has adapted his mind to run on its own exhaust.
(Nascar Note: Only super efficiencified efforts will make the final field.)
* * *
News Re The City’s Rhetorical Neighborhood.
You will never be able to properly pronounce a word you don’t like.
And a son asked a father:
“Is the line in one of the stories you’ve told where someone says:
‘My hormones made me do it’ really a good excuse?”
“My boy — they don’t come any gooder!”
Although it can never be officially admitted:
in every city on every planet in every galaxy,
there is set up at least one bus stop at which
no bus is ever going to stop.
On one world goes on a never ending card game around a table at which
every creature sits, and which some players believe is rigged,
and the more that you believe it is — the more you lose.
“Dad — is that fair?”
“If it was any fairer it would be complete carnival.”
* * *
During a lull in the activities, a man looked to the sky and mused:
“The really weird thing about life is not how weird it is,
but how weird everyone thinks it is.”
After the war, as the king was stabilizing his territories, and establishing public institutions, he was asked if priests of the state’s religion should be permitted to wed, and he replied:
“Nay — not permitted — required.”
“Pa pa: what is the thin line between: being dedicated and being pig headed?”
“Son, it’s like this: a man either walks that line or he IS that line;
don’t forget: hormones equal acts and acts speak silently for themselves,
while neurons equal facts — statements made quite likely, about nothing.”
Humans learned to hypnotize sheep by watching how their own minds does it to them.
* * *
Dialogue Number Forty Eight.
“Those whom men choose to lead them are those who lie to them the most.”
“Are you really talking about a situation amidst neurons in each man’s head?”
When they become sufficiently plump — acts become facts.
One would-be vain & gloriously-thought-of chap decided that what his life needed
was its own theme song, and hired a well known composer to that end,
who, after surveying the man’s total existential impact on human affairs withdrew, declaring that he didn’t work in the area of minimalism.
Those concerned about the effect they may have on others,
never have any of significance (another of those unrealized laws).
* * *
In the apparent theatre district of one city, an old timer noted to a young apprentice: “Kid, in any of the stuff that goes on here:
there ain’t no need to ever hang around, looking for the final curtain —
I’ve been here long enough to have heard the fat lady sing,
and I can tell you this up front — we are her.”
There is no actual drama —
it is the actors not realizing what they are that gives the illusion of such.
Every time he was just about to have a breakdown –
this one guy would suddenly leave, and thereby cure himself once again.
“Father dear: what is the difference between a treatment and a cure?”
“Who, when hungry, wants a bullet to the stomach as a means of
And someone inquires [or seems to]: “Would you not admit that it is most difficult
to make sense of something you are reading if it is written in a code for which
you do not have the key?”
* * *
If facts weren’t certain to change, pages would have no margins.
“Nor minds, empty spaces, huh Pop?!”
Note: what distinguishes the rebel explorer from the arm chair variety
is that only the former can cause such spaces to appear IN their mind.
And someone objects [or pretends to]:
“But how can you create the lack of something?!”
Yes, it seems an imponderable,
but that’s only because your natural born mind wants to.
“So you’re saying that the way the unconventional thinker actually gets somewhere
is by not trying to?!”
Close, but like this: by not getting bogged down in the thoughts that
automatically come along in your mind concerning your trying to:
it is the unconventional distinction that the certain man can make in his head
between acts & facts IN the activity in his head.
A father poked a son: “Why be spooked about: times and places,
remember: It’s always some time some place — it has to be
for the mind to keep the mental concept of such alive in its special reality.”
“Is this why you once told me that I should never be any place where
I knew the time?”
“It is most improbable for a man who lives in Oslo to ever find himself in Rio
if he continually thinks about his being in Oslo.
(which can be couched in an even grittier form):
How do you ever get smart while aware of your stupidity?”
“Ah! — as in: You’ll always be in the dark if you think that
enlightenment is something that comes from outside your darkness.”
No one ever enjoys shouting: “Bingo!” more than does he whose eyes
have just opened by his own prodding.