Misery Loves Company and...

May I suggest to you that, vis-à-vis the general operations of the City Yellow Circuitry, that you therein favor short stories, and not lengthy novels.

A few days ago, whilst strolling along a rather dreary street in the City, from a roof top I heard this cry, “I no longer believe there IS such a thing as normality!” And I began to whistle as I walked.

That life seems so unpredictable, and yet not all that surprising, to City consciousness, is witnessed by the fact that at the track there are fifty twenty dollar windows for every hundred dollar one.  (And, I might add, ten bathrooms for every one lunch counter.)

The past is where all those who don’t, “Beware the blank-blanks of the mind,” end up.

One sorta fine day Life looked upon the saying, “Misery loves company,” and found it to be good.  But upon further rumination, realized there was room for improvement, and need for an update.  So Life added, “Misery loves publicity.”  Now it’s right.

J.

Serenity

Organizations operate most efficiently when under attack, or preparing for same; thus Men love to talk of apparent threats to their health, wealth, and even survival.

Serenity is a Revolutionist’s game.

To a Revolutionist, it’s all a matter of “nevertheless.”  No matter that at eye level things appear certain, inescapable, preordained, the Revolutionist sez, “Never the less,” and presses on.

A well placed fanatic is like a super-duper dominant figure, hence his attraction.  (Hint: compare with Man’s concepts of a god.)

If everybody’s saying it, it ain’t worth saying…now is it?

J.

Re-Heated Peas

Remember:  You are instantly on the same level as anything you’re criticizing.

Even the most LUCID of memories are still just re-heated peas.

Habitual behavior is just a substitute for intellectual behavior…hell, come to think of it, habitual behavior is a substitute for LIVING.

From the List of Nevers:
Never trust a god with a name tag.

It always “goes well” for those who go well.

J.

If You Don't Like It, You Won't Believe It

Once, in a fierce battle, a Warrior executed certain life-preserving, day-saving actions, and later his liege and companions attempted to honor him by crying out the virtues he displayed in his heroic feat.  “Fore-sight,” cried out one.  “Bravery,” added another.  “Lightening responses,” cried a third, at which time the Warrior added his voice by declaring, “Nay, you mis-name the true force involved, it was a case of ‘stark inevitability.’”  Such are the elements of a real Revolution and the Revolutionist.

Why else do you imagine Life gives Men “worst fears,” if not to have them realized.

A true guide for the wary, if not perplexed, in the City, is as follows:

Don’t be impressed with something just because you don’t understand it.

One cannot ultimately “do-the-Revolution” from some mere sense of duty; it must be pursued because you find it irresistibly pleasurable.  Remember:  If you don’t like something, you won’t believe it.

Besides what I’ve already mentioned regarding a Revolutionist’s words being a kind of code, it is Life itself that is the supreme cryptographer, always speaking, but in a code known to but a handful of cells.

J.

Do Not Commingle Your Joys

Do not, I repeat, do not commingle your joys with maybes or buts.

Those who believe that true talent will always rise and be recognized just don’t know, hell, they don’t even SUSPECT, how life works.

Expanded Definition & Update:

Exercise-For The-Intellectuals:  A useless and hateful tax unjustly imposed on an honorable, and otherwise peaceful people.

One must never totally abandon hope that again, on some fine, New Year’s night, the refurbished peoples of Albania will once more, en mass, tap dance.

May we now update a bit of semi-prime, cold sliced, would–be religious thought, “And the day will come in the life of Man, when new things will be made familiar, and familiar things marked down.”

J.

The Oppressive Weight of the Heaviest

What is there in the City that can withstand ridicule?  Or, I guess I could just ask, “What is there in the City that is permanently real?”

I guess it is possible to look upon life as a kind of test, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you, awaiting a passing grade.

And we play this next number for all of those fondly dancing with their eyes closed.  Wow, are they in love, or what?  No, the question is, are they in love WITH what?

It is best that all would-be Revolutionists be on constant guard against the oppressive weight of the heaviest.  That’s right, you heard it first.

One guy, who seemed to be some kinda cross ‘twixt routine sore-head and revolutionary dreamer, once said, “I tried to get involved with the religions, but I just never could see what the hell there was to feel guilty about.

J.

Don't Mention It

Should a City politician ever accidentally say anything of significance, by all means hold your peace, and do not encourage him further.

All Men, even the Revolutionists, hear the voice of their molecules, but are you bound to heed their directions only?

In that faded City area where some yellow meets a certain shade of blue, it is continually taken as an achievement for a man, after fifty years of study and meditation, to declare that, “All religions are one.”  Yeah, but one WHAT?

From the List of Nevers: Never trust a god who’s ugly.

The only differences worth mentioning, aren’t worth mentioning.

J.

April Fools

Even if you fall short of a majority, you will still have a formidable army if you can just attract all the fools to your side.

No need to study time tables; no reason to hang around the depot, watching, I can tell you now that eventually all extremes meet.  (It might be best if you personally were not the point of convergence.)

It is truly hard to succeed on a City team when no vacancies exist at your position.  (Or, when Life seems loath to even recognize your league.)

In the City, ‘tis been said that, “Were it not for his imagination, a man would be as thrilled in the arms of a chambermaid as with a duchess,” and as valid as that may seem, let me clarify it by adding, “Then again, maybe not.”  Hello, hello I say! Is the fun-forum now taking calls from the lower, doing molecules, or is it speaking with the higher, more sophisticated thinking ones?

If mere talk is real encouragement, then we’re ALL Norman Vincent Peale’s grandmother.

J.

Rest Stop Ahead

Was once said to a certain Revolutionist: “We would like to do your life story,” and thought he, “You know, I don’t HAVE a life story.”

In the City, most attempts at self examination result in a form of self immobilization.

The Past is the eternal Rest Stop for the useless.

For those in the City who periodically ask, “Is that all there IS?”  At that particular moment, the answer is “YES…”  Well, you shouldn’t have asked…

Just because you “understand” something in the City, doesn’t mean it’ll do you any good.

J.

Keep Your Distance!

As City People use the Past as a weapon, they fail to notice it is a sword with a second blade for a handle.

Those who don’t keep their distance soon have none.

If asked why he did, or did not, do a particular thing, an enlistee’s safest bet is to reply, “I don’t know.”  (Don’t even THINK about the most truthful bet.)

When it gets down to certain important Revolutionary matters, if it’s not too late, then it’s too early.

To really speak ill of someone is akin to posting one of those parking lot notices that say, “Do not back up; severe tire damage possible.”

J.

A Lotta Good It'll Do You

The Past is the home of the slogan, “A lotta good it’ll do you.”

You’ll never soar like the eagles if you mistake anacondas for worms.

Those who speak about what the “Great men would do if they were still here,” are simply suffering over a bad pull in their own self-approval muscle.

Never trust a god who takes credit for inventing Man.

Ordinary people can’t laugh at life ‘cause they got nothing to compare it to.

J.

Chaos

Through their rituals and beliefs, the City constructively declares, “Some things must NEVER change,” to which the Revolutionist adds, “God, I hope not.”

Chaos is in the eye of the beholder.

The general purpose of the City and its many institutions, is to insure order and predictability, which the Revolutionist strongly supports – in others.

A certain ruler proclaimed to the People, “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, and further blah, blah-more,” and afterwards a new courier said, “Sire, what you told the People was not true.”  “Ah!” said the king, “What’s the truth among friends.”

Would a Real Revolutionist’s life be based on knowledge or experience?

And who would distinguish the two?

J.

Just Who Do You Think You Are?

Anyone whose dying words were, “I tried so hard to do what’s right,” deserved to die.

All City ideas of religion are bridges spanning the gorge ‘twixt ignorance and a cold spell.

Tell me who you think you are, and I’ll tell you who you’re not.

The final chorus of all fanatical operas is a death march of some kind.

Those “artsy” folks in the City who like to begin their songs with the words, “Whenever I get to thinking…” never do.

J.

Just the Facts, Man

In the City, I don’t know why they think it’s such a big deal to just “be yourself,” ‘cause it ain’t…leastwise how they do it.

The real purpose of a bird watching society is NOT to spot sparrows.

To be in debt is to partially die (or, at least, to willfully make yourself short of breath).

Don’t ever let ‘em rehabilitate you: you ain’t worth the bother…even if it succeeds.

Generally speaking, from the Revolutionist’s view, the facts Men see are not, and the ones they don’t, are.

J.

Only the Strong Survive

Although metaphors are insufficient, they are often the best insufficiency available.

And one Enlistee once thought to himself: “This activity is indescribable joy, it is a challenge without parallel, and it is weird beyond belief, and yet at times I still wonder just what it IS that Life wants me to do about it.”

Never trust a god who tries too hard.

In City affairs, even the most important ones, the formalities CAN be everything.  “Pardon me, Sir Winston, but would you please pass me the butter and your largest naval base?”

Only the strong survive, and only the weak survive to whine about it.

J.

The Ease-Up Song - Holiday Edition

Although I can see how it can disturb and frighten them in the City, the truth is, dead may well be a step UP for many.

Okay, so I haven’t mentioned anything recently about the always present?

Maybe I shouldn’t tell you some of this stuff, but what the hell: 

One Revolutionist used to have this personal “theme song” which He would make his enlistees “sing” as they marched along.  It went, “You gotta ease on up, and then you bear back down.  And then you ease back up, and then you bear back down.  Then you ease on up, and then you”…well, you kinda “get the picture.”  Oh yeah, those that began to understand what the song meant claimed it kept their feet out of pain, and the sweat out of their brain.

The Past is where ALL dancers step on your toes.

One guy in the heart of, or at least the pancreas of the City said, “If you ain’t got no imagination about sex, you either got no imagination.”

J.

UN-Lived-In

Could a Real Revolutionist use the idea of having a house that seemed almost “un-lived in” internally?  Could he almost leave no trace OF himself IN himself?

The common characteristic of all things that dimensionally exist is that they HAVE characteristics.  And from a certain, more spatial view, a Revolutionist strives to be a thing with no characteristics.

The smart and properly primed health consumer, should pay no heed to ads for proclaimed “anal transplants.”  (My god, even in the CITY enough should almost be enough.)

Birds may
look down,
but they never
look back.

I have read some City thoughts that proclaim that Men should use this life NOT to merely “drift,” not to stay safely at “anchor,” but to “sail,” to continually “sail to one’s ultimate port,” which is noteworthy so far as it goes, but it fails to take into account the unnerving fact that those certain breezes also cause the ports themselves to shift and change.

J.

This Day

Those who blithely believe that Man’s culture is his one possible salvation have obviously never played Chopin with a bloody nose.

What do you make of this graffiti I saw written on the bullpen wall of a Yellow-Circuit/Blue-Circuit Gladiator’s arena; it first read, “Only those who KNOW they’re strong are strong,” and someone had drawn a line through and written their version, “Only the strong KNOW they are strong.”  What do you think?

Men only measure what they see, AND only see what they can measure.  What could be fairer?  What would be more confining?

At times when forced to muse on the general level of intelligence of City life, I sometimes recall the large headed lad of a prominent banking family that had to be taught how to fart.

In the Bushes, even jackals and philistines have their day…it’s just not THIS day…ever.

J.

Patent Pending

If a Revolutionist should admit that HE knows “anything” about a subject, He should later claim not to “know enough,’ but better, should keep quiet in the first place.

Neuralize, Definition Number Yet-Again:

To confront data without acceptance or consideration, of its present measurements.

Somewhere, on all human nervous systems, is stamped the notice “Patent Pending.”

It doesn’t really do much good to tell City folks to “change”, but you CAN encourage them to dress differently and get a new hairdo.

Overheard over near where History Street meets Irascibility Avenue, “Well, sure he can afford to be patient, he’s fuckin’ dead.”

J.

A Creek of Pique

To willfully sit in a cramped, dark place may well be one of City Man’s great philosophical pleasures.

One Revolutionist told his enlistees, “It’s probably best not to let anyone put you on hold.”

While wading in a creek of pique, one would-be Revolutionist once muttered, “The only thing I don’t really care for about this activity is, in the beginning, to discover the invisible path to Camelot, and then find out that nobody else really wants to go.”

One benefit of a true dictatorship is that there is no doubt about who is in charge.

And finally, Consider: What should be one’s proper obligation to one’s possessions?

J.