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Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
WHAT THE CITY’S COOKING — MEN EAT:
WHAT THE CITY’S COOKING — IS MAN
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Secret Recipes For Those Still Not Quite Done
November 28, 2003 © 2003: JAN COX
Civilization (In Prose).
The mayor of the city stopped the bus, stood and addressed the passengers sternly:
“You people might as well face it now: you’re all whores! –
it’s just that some are already bent over, while others are waiting to.
Now shut up and settle down!”
And off again went this wondrous conveyance.
The directions the nervous system knight requires for his quest can be identified
by the fact that when he hears such, he always inwardly smiles.
The Royal Sage addressed the King:
“I bring news of the good and the bad: the good is that there is no bad,”
(and it takes an exceptional Court to accept news like that.)
The mayor of one city confesses:
“If my dick didn’t stay in a sling — I’d have no mental life (to erotically speak of.)”
Unwarranted seriousness has kept more would-be warriors home
than any form of physical illness.
From the certain man’s view:
the city mis-conceives of: correction as a synonym for: growth.
And for your dining pleasure, this side definition:
The Complex: Yesterday’s simple.
Note: many people, when they first begin trying to take in this sort of thing,
get a headache;
those who persevere, come to love it.
Men live in universal and local conditions;
the rebel has no interest in the latter.
One man offers: “Ninety seven per cent of all odes to love
are written by men who cannot bring themselves to call fuckin’ — fuckin’”.
(And this surely has no possible application to any other area of human existence.
“Yeah! — right!”)
If men’s physical circuits could think, they’d think they’ve really been put-upon
by his mental ones.
(And some mental ones said: “Yeah! — thank god for their stupidity!”)
The great thing about being king is that whatever game you want to see played
by the people is the one you see them play
(not to mention the fact that you get to determine the score.)
Those whose understanding of man is based on observable features, such as: sexual, social, religious, cultural, racial — have no understanding of man.
The Captain told his son:
“The only thing that keeps this tug afloat is the passengers’ miss-comprehensions.”
The man-who-knows is he who no one sees — sailing away in a one man craft.
Up (A Poem).
Man’s future is in the sky,
way up high,
above his eye/I.
One man pretended to be interested in other people –
just so he could talk about himself —
which didn’t fool anyone —
except him —
and everyone else —
who were playing the same game.
One of the building’s security guards recently mused:
“If you look at everybody long enough on the monitors, they all begin to look like you.”
Psychology (In A Family Way).
“Remember,” chided a father a son:
“it was man’s thoughts that came up with the notion of him having an unconscious —
not his consciousness.”
A Pastoral Scene.
Cooed thoughts to consciousness:
“I love to run barefoot through your fields,”
with no acknowledgment that without it, they would have no feet.
On one world the road you take determines your destination.
“But that’s true everywhere!?!”
Believing that is why you’re still at the spot where you were born.
Financial News.
The past is a no-growth industry.
The Transcendental Life (In A Nightclub Setting).
Mystics are to the religious as drinkers are to bartenders;
the band to the MC;
dancers to the doorman.
Those who, for the collective toil,
miss the individual experience.
(Aka: You can’t wake up on a passenger ship.)
A father sat a son down and to him said:
“Going through life with a normal frame of mind costs you nothing —
but for our kind it will also get you nothing.”
From this simple truth came the most complex: Religion Of The Serious
(into which all normal minds and other dickheads are joyfully welcomed.)
Question: Can one be deliberately stupid?
Suggestion: Think about that really carefully.
Man & The Survival of The Mental (A Sonnet Submitted By Life).
“Those not hired,
can’t be fired,
but all you bums can be kilt!”
“Hey!” complained a man to the judge:
“They stole the idea for the Gordian Knot from the way my mind is set up!”
(The court called a hurried recess when someone asked for a sword.)
J