One guy’s guiding principle was:
The further you are away from home,
The less often you should call.
This month’s figures are finally in, and the galaxy’s most popular published work is, “The Book Of Symptoms.”
The left-overs of anger can be as noxious as the meal.
In the midst of this one other world,
In the inner middle of a certain philosophical group,
They passed along this wisdom, one to another:
“So long as you think man a deed ill-done, you’ve got it made.”
Once, in a time not given in your history books, two worlds went to war over their dispute regarding man. The first said that his uniqueness was his intellect, and the other claimed that man’s singularity was in his sense of morality. A passing comet, observing all of this on the run, mused how the second notion was simply growing pains of the first one.
Graffiti heard near a bush in the park, just after dark:
“Anarchies make little progress, but they pay no taxes.”
When pressed, this one guy would admit it…(which didn’t help much once he returned to his wrinkled state).
Just because things are irrelevant doesn’t mean they HAVE to be irrelevant.
Here’s the latest good one I heard over in the speaker’s area of the park:
“If ‘having something on your mind’ is proof that you’ve got a mind, then a dirty diaper would be voting proxy at Proctor & Gamble’s stockholders meeting.”
J.
When fording the boundaries of prejudice, be sure and roll your knickers up.
Though it is not taught at this level, there is an area of learning best called, “The Mathematics Of History, which could be useful for a keen, neat and subversive student-of-the-strident, for a for instance apply your little brain maggots to this: Your founding fathers did not found anything, but were themselves found thereby.”
After reading, or hearing again the line, “Life is as tedious as a twice told tale,” this one out of towner thought, “Is it just me, or has anyone ever considered that even a ‘twice told tale’ wouldn’t be tedious if they didn’t tell it for a second time?” (Shortly thereafter he figured it was time to go back home.)
How can things “make sense,” and then “not make sense”? Or how can they almost make sense, and then suddenly not do so in some way you can’t quite grasp…ah, forget it, let’s go on to something else: On this one world, the hot new dance going all around is the “Edna,” although the chap who invented it tells me that he’s received so much flack about the name that he hasn’t had time to actually develop the dance.
Sports Tip: As quickly as possible; find out if you can get your opponent to whine.
P.S. - Remember how they hated you in Pittsburg.
J.
This one sweet little child, (he wasn’t, actually, but his mother bribed me to throw that in), asked, “Is the Revolution a Primary or Secondary activity?” And his mother replied, “Guess that all depends on whether you’re asking from a local, or a universal view.” (Later the lad asks, “Does even that much matter?” “No kid, not much.”)
The youngest son seemed unable to go even a few hours without becoming entangled in heated arguments with his elder siblings, so one morning the father took the lad out behind the croquet course and delivered the following words: “My boy, the tensions apparent inherent in many human relationship are not necessarily improved statements of your conflicting position; let me give you an example.”
Often when recalling his former self, this one person would softly murmur, “Your absence means more to me than I can say.”
I heard another father tell his “younger companion,” (his heir I presumed), “Kid, a father that wouldn’t give his son useless advice is no father of mine.”
Over in the thorny bushes in the park, a chap was stamping about, waving his arms and muttering, “Compromise, compromise, gads, how I hate that word – zounds, you despicable concept!” And a wiener vendor passing by thought, “Wow, he’s gonna just love death.”
J.
A strong man makes a particular, funny kinda noise when he falls apart.
As many intellectual fields have been scourged by cabbage, as by mis-information.
Along his verbal way the speaker mentioned: “It would be my opinion that a Real Revolutionist would no longer discuss his plans.” And in the crowd he addressed was a kid who tugged on his ole man’s sleeve and asked, “Pa pa, would that be because a Revolutionist has no plans, or no discuss?”
A guy who’d been hanging around a certain Revolutionist for awhile, listening to his talk, considering his analysis, and attempting to actively pursue some of his maps, one day, apparently contemplating a move, asked the Rebel, “Could I continue this work without you?” And the response said, “Better yet, look at it this way; can you do it even WITH me?”
This one chap over in the Vector Sector, who I had not seen in quite a while, (at least by Vector reckoning), after warm salutations and the expected asking-about-the-health-of-my-planets, told me that even though he was moralistically and economically opposed to them, that if he ever did adopt a personal motto it would be, “Nothing is lacking till said ‘tis lacking.”
J.
A certain ruler called to him, his molecules – I mean his people, and said to them, “No longer will I grant clemency, nor will I issue pardons, henceforth it will be thus – People, you must spare yourselves.” (A disturbed little fellow in the rear of the crowd muttered, “Sire, we are not amused.”)
Under institutional conditions,
in ordinary, secondary affairs:
When you talk about,
What you know about,
And you don’t know,
What you’re talking about,
it’s okay.
One day, around two-fifteen in the afternoon, while they were standing out by a stream just spittin’ and standin’, the ole man looked off into the distance, (which wasn’t that hard to do as close as they were to it already), and said to his younger companion, “It’s good to know that, ‘All things are possible,’ and even better yet, that some things are more possible than others, like for instance…if your name is Peewee Pigsbreath you don’t hardly have a worry at all being chosen for king.”
J.
Although ordinary language doesn’t cover it all, it covers all that is ordinarily required.
On this one young, developing world, as things began to separate into conflicting factions, such as the categories of “religion and science,” “faith and fact,” and the like, one group declared that they should all resist this inclination, and after a bit they did realize some success in their efforts, but also began to lose the ability to talk.
A man who doesn’t look ahead, or backwards, can, of course, always look somewhere else.
For those who say the worst is yet to come – the worst is yet to come.
If you ever wondered who stood the better chance of becoming famous and admired, an intelligent, strong person, or a weak whiney one, wonder no more.
Drawn by the light of our camp fire last year, and after hearing some of our affairs discussed, a visitor said to me, “Is this not like a search to find that too dear to use?”
J.
Over in the park I heard one speaker argue thusly, said he, “If there is any true justice and equanimity, then is ‘being behind in your debts’ the same as ‘being ahead in your credits’?”
If you can learn or benefit from some else’s mistake, they didn’t do it right.
Peering over his beer at me in that laterally spun sonic bar I told you I sometimes visit, this one chatty fellow told me that he tries to always get up an hour or so before his brain does every morning…”So’s to get a head start on the little sucker.”
If they’re not checking I.D.’s when you enter, who cares when you leave.
A man with a gem clip,
can be a friend to anyone.
J.
“Remember, son,” said the superbly shammed-up, apparent wise father, “When in doubt, brag about your ancestors.” (Oh yeah, as the kid got older to this direction he added his own codicil, “Or whine about yesterday,” which as he might discover, is the same thing.)
Whilst sitting and sipping in this little hip bistro over in the Goatee Galaxy, I overheard this snippet from an adjoining table; this one guy says, “The reason ordinary people don’t like jazz is that they don’t know what’s coming next.” And his buddy rubs his nose, looks at the window, and says, “You know, Clyde, I just suddenly realized something about being alive.”
There is a time
to be serious,
but it’s not
right now.
One ole hairy grandfather called all of his little grandnippers to gather round him, and spoke to them thusly, “By the time most people think of something for the first time on their own, it’s (let’s say it all together now), ‘Too late’.”
After some pondering of the matter, the gentleman expressed himself in this verbal fashion, “It may BE a good thing that everyone can’t dance, or else these chairs would go to waste.”
J.
This one “other worldly philosopher” confided to me that his greatest pleasure came by, “Thoughts too light, to even shadows cast.”
I heard this one chap tell a friend, over in another zone, “I just can’t take it seriously, if everyone else has to.
“Ah”, said Voice Number One, “Tragedy makes philosophers of us all.”
“Ah Hah”, added Voice Number Two, “And puts florist near the undertakers.”
The physics of things
may make them work,
but the physics
do not explain.
Proverbial based graffiti almost written on a wall, over there someplace, “Losing your ticket, is a most minor of inconveniences.”
J.
No information is particularly useful unless it has an escape clause. (Add this: Okay, you can also try it this way: Not even “the truth” is beneficial unless it has a way out.)
The infantile eye says, “Fate ruled my parents; chance, me.”
Those who still claim to be seriously worried over “man’s attempt to play god,” sure don’t have much to worry about.
The mythology of this one group, (no longer as extant as they once were), tells that even though Life’s primary business is change, that the constant disruptions inherent in such pursuits were resulting in inordinate stress, migraines, and the threat of ulcers…but Life found a way out, it made man and turned the job over to him.
In the ordinary conditions of the City: Don’t pity the poor, for if you think you’re not one of them, you’re both poor and stupid.
The older planet told his satellite son, “Whenever you wonder whether a beckoning activity is truly essential or not for you personally, the way to always tell is that only the non-essential comes with instructions.”
J.
Only a Real Revolutionist can listen to almost anything without losing his temper; There are some things a Revolutionist will not listen to.
One low-level sore-head muttered as follows, “I’ve looked at life, and I’ve looked at the alternatives, and I’ll say this – I’d like to look around some more.”
Then he told me that he already had the title for his next book, (it would actually be his first one, but he wanted me to call it his “next book”), and it is: “The Expansive Power And Limiting Factors Of Talk.”
A Real Revolutionist is whatever he says he is…(the beauty of it is that if he says what he is he’s no longer a Revolutionist.)
As he was leaving, he slapped one of the other gods on the back and said, “As long as seriousness passes for intelligence we’ve got a job.”
J.
This one debate regarding language went as follows:
The first speaker said, “Words are the signposts to the truth.”
The next one declared, “Words are to mitigate suffering.”
And the third debater declaimed, “Words are to qualify experience.”
And as the audience was leaving, I overheard one fellow mutter, “No matter what else may have been accomplished, I wonder if any of them realize that words ARE an experience?”
Advice one area gave to another: “If you pretend you know what you’re doing, other parts will pretend that they support you.”
This one little chap inquired of his older, fatherly-type chap, “Could you be part of the Real Revolution and not know it?” And the father-chap replied, “At least ‘tis neat that a few questions have absolute answers, eh whaty…eh whaty?”
On this one other planet, last year during their annual “Public Cerebral Confessional Day,” (known in some parts as “Admittin’ Time”), one participant spoke as follows: “I cannot deny, ‘tis with the worst of friends, in the worst of inns, my days thusly passed, and always with my brain-flag waving at half mast.” And the crowd responded with a solid round of, “Boo, Hiss and Boo some more!” to which he replied, “Hah! It was persons like you that made me resort to poetry in the first place.”
True intelligence is not much harmed by education…sometimes…in some placers…under certain conditions…
J.
You only have one "last chance,” and the cute thing about it is that it’s never the one you think it is.
Any poet given to opening lines such as, “Oh Death!”, “Oh Fame!”, “Oh Heartache!”, or “Oh anything!”, is not a good credit risk.
May we not enjoy the pleasure of my quoting of another of the road-side-philosophers I often encounter – one of them last week noted, “The benefits of a bad memory are far too numerous to note even could I recall them.”
Even the personally discovered “truth,” that is astounding, eventually becomes tiresome – that is, if you know what you’re doing.
Everything predicted in the City has ALREADY come true.
In another galaxy on a mid-sized world with certain specific, literate – ergo, intellectual interests, it has become decreed that, “All antonyms will be believed to rhyme with the words they are opposite to in meaning.” (To say that the latent applications of this is prodigious is simply to interfere with saying it sis SUPER prodigious.)
J.
Sometimes there is no fall between summer and winter, and sometimes there is (which is what makes the whole thing workable).
Then there was this one guy who had a thought – I mean a partner – almost younger than himself.
You can't flirt
with a herd.
It’s actually quite open and ingenuous once you see it; that which can’t be understood in man’s secondary world is simply those things that can’t be connected.
The spatial consequences of this one planet called to inform me that, “Being back-to-back is quite close enough for us."
J.
At least one good thing about operating with ordinary intelligence is that your worst fears and premonitions don’t mean shit – they’re laughable.
“Rhyme For The Times”:
One guy’s brain
was so disjointed,
he thought his thoughts
were divinely anointed.
In partial repetition of what he’d heard from his elders, this one kid said, “Good things DO come in small packages – except for my shorts and my brain.”
In a land of connections, there are no rules or laws, only temporary junctures and intersections.
The home grown Intellectual repertoire does not include “willful ambiguity” – Oh, I know they use such a term, but they mean something else.
J.
In matters secondaire, putting the blame “where it belongs” can only profit those not at all involved.
He who says he will, may or may not;
He who says he won’t, is subject to the same possibilities;
But about he who says nothing, what can be said?
Hey, what can I tell you.
Almost everything worthwhile to a Revolutionist should be…almost effortless.
One Diabolical Duo had this little game they would play; the elder would ask the kid a question, and if the lad couldn’t answer, the ole man would kill him. Well, one day the dialectic dance went like this, “Okay son, what is more plentiful than thought?” And the scion replied, “Conflicting thought.” (Later that hour their mother told them it was time to change the stakes of the contest…For a Real Revolutionist that time is always NOW.)
If you care enough
to say you don’t care,
you still care too much.
J.
One fellow, with perhaps more to commend him than there be commended, says that as soon as possible, he intends to change his name to, “I Am A Verb,”
Un-connected, Revolutionist intelligence, is not unlike a wildebeest stalking a lion.
Why sure, once it’s pointed out to them, most everyone can fill in the blanks…(especially since there aren’t any.)
The ordinary intellect simply does not perceive Processes to be their own payoff.
Once, during a moment, the ole man said to his younger part, “Kid, I trust that your Dad is not at times TOO dominant.” And the stripling thought, “What an ordinary and Never-dreamt-of notion – 'TOO' dominant.”
J.
Only the stagnant say “I’m sorry.”
No City short of cynics is for history bound. (The winds of opposition complete the two edged sword, and a people scarce of sarcasm remain unrecorded. Thus, the only history of the Real Revolutionists, are in their own memory.)
In man’s part of this universe, speech is the inaugural connection from which the Secondary world flows.
Those who take some human as a hero, a role model, have a most interesting and honorable life upcoming.
The reason you’re told that “Ignoring a problem won’t make it go away,” is that if you did learn how to do it, it would.
J.
The ordinarily perceived connections act as a cheap form of variety.
On this one planet, during their several continuing wars, the battle cry was, “The innocent must not go free!”
Those who want to “get on the bandwagon,” couldn’t get a job carrying a tuba case otherwise.
Everyone hates a monopoly, thus god’s wide-spread popularity.
After studying how everything’s connected, then later pondering how they’re equally un-connected, this one person developed a whole new living motto, “When it rains it rains, when it don’t it don’t.”
J.
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