Staring at the Clues Won’t “Crack the Case”
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Condensed News = See below
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Notes by TK
You must stay focused on “cracking the case” but not stare at the “clues”. There is a scripted quality to the verbal interactions between people. If you watch closely you can see the almost choreographed nature of “tit for tat’ conversation. People don’t listen with their ears; they listen thru their consciousness. And it is like staring at a hole, out of which come words. Your response is triggered, instantly, at the known end of those words—all, in a staring context. (42:12) #3329
Jan’s Daily Fresh Real News (to accompany this talk)
IF YOU DON’T ACTUALLY THINK,
IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT YOU THINK
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Ideas Of Consequence, To An Uncommon Few
JULY 22, 2005 © 2005 JAN COX
Meditated a physician:
“If you undertake a serious profession, can you escape being serious?”
and his immediate seeming antagonist, death, injected:
“What do you living humans know from seriousness!?
Just because men can make up a word and define it,
doesn’t mean that the described concept has any actual substance.
What child cannot tell you about the Tooth Fairy or Lucifer.”
“Ah! – the excitement!” noted the librarian as he surveyed the main reading room
while eating his lunch: “Stuffing your body with food – stuffing your mind with crap;
ah! – the wonder of it all.” (Then finished his celery stick.)
In a really first-class, finite-swindle,
the floor would cheat the ceiling,
the keyhole dupe the door,
and opposing walls con one another,
all within the space in a man’s brain wherein exists his normal consciousness.
A reader emails:
“Why do some of your metaphors annoy me more than others?
And, oh yeah: is it me asking this or my mind? – and one more thing:
how is it possible for the ‘me’ I feel I have within me not to merely be a metaphor also?
Thanks for your time,
Sincerely Yours,” etc.
The sophistication of one city reached such a level that publishers dropped the designation of books being either Fiction or Nonfiction.
(Says a guy: “Something similar to that happened in my mind around 1984.”)
One chap offers what he says is a: “Telling description of second-reality struggles: Having a strong aim and weak facilities,”
(which he admits is still overstating the situation).
Old city soldiers never die – they just change uniforms.
The local god in one place will tolerate almost any sort of practical joke
the creatures in his care may play on him – except one:
having him charged with spousal-abuse.
One guy accused his tongue of picking up all of its bad habits from his thoughts – “Hah!” chortled he: “MY thoughts! – what a laugh!”
(And finished it off with a funny fake laughing sound.)
Note: Some of the stories reported here in the Daily News are connected –
and some of them are not –
and even those which are not – are.
When he was hot on the mental trail of some new and exciting idea,
and his mind would get momentarily distracted and he’d lose the scent,
the determination to pick it back up and carry on the chase was so intense in
this one musically inclined chap that he would thus exhort his neural band mates:
“Vamp ‘til you cramp!” — (knowing that he would later: Bop ‘til he dropped).
One man had an intriguing action toy which made one series of limited sounds
when exposed to outside noise, and another when surrounded by silence,
now guess what this toy actually is?
There’s this really good-natured god who will laugh along with almost any prank his charges may play on him – except, bringing a paternity suit against him.
(It’s strange how, in ordinary men’s world, what’s funny varies so widely from
place to place, while in rebel territory no such distinctions are ever perceived.)
When it rains, if you don’t see that the ground gets wet everywhere –
then what can you be called other than blind!?
(“And asleep! – don’t forget: asleep.”)
“Magazines that fill their first few pages with stories concerning goings-on in
their own company and with their writers are truly on to something,”
said a man to his mind: “you should take a lesson.”
(An unnecessary suggestion if there ever was one).
Elderly hormones tend to be tired,
tired hormones tend to be dangerous,
and dangerous hormones tend to be dictatorial – so there you are!
One guy accused his thoughts of picking up all of its bad habits from his tongue – which someone instantly said was impossible! “Hah!” said impossibility:
“Humans wouldn’t correctly recognize me if I crawled out of their underwear.”
As he lay in the tub gazing at his reflection in the mirror on the back of the
bathroom door, a man contemplated:
“Did we not have others to criticize – sweet jesus! — where would we be then!”
Though externally a well-mannered chap, he one day suddenly turned on his mind
and internally barked: “If you can’t take it – don’t dish it out!”
There’s this one guy who, if you get him in just the right mood, you can get to say: “Okay: everyone who thinks that they’re it – ARE!”
During one of their several annual festivals, one reality
(in the late afternoon, sitting at a picnic table with some of its creatures,
cold beer in hand) mentioned to them a curious coincidence between
the number of trees on their world and the number of visible stars:
“It’s meaningless – but coincidental nonetheless.”
Corollary: If men hadn’t already created the metaphysical seeming world,
they’d have to create it now.
The type of man/mind the city considers exemplary of its desired sophistication,
it sums up in these words: “Life is so innately frustrating
that an attitude of feigned indifference is the only one fashionable and becoming.”
Only those doubly-bent by the civilizing of the mind will accept the perceptions
natural to it as accurate statements of the matters perceived.
(Notes one rebel of his regular mental self:
“I know me far too well to accept my take on anything.”)
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