April Fools!

From one passing-though informative view, every day is April the first, and Life is constantly sending men off on fool’s errands; committing them to being harmlessly hornswoggled.

Homegrown intelligence usually seems pretty insignificant…(except to those you-know-who’s).

This one ole dude used to like to say, (leastwise, I hope he liked to say it, seeing as how he used to say it so much), but anyhow, he used to like to say, “Having an eye for beauty don’t mean you are one!”  And he’d generally have a hearty chuckle, while folks would uneasily ponder what he’d said.  Then one day right after saying this he thought to himself, “Instead of saying this about beauty, what if I said it about intelligence – would that mean anything?”  After pondering his own idea for a bit he said, “Naw,” then pondered a few more meters, and added, “Gawd, I hope not.”

For every traversible track that info lays down in the sensual world, it also cuts a phantom one nearby; sometimes running parallel, sometimes not.

Those who discover the secret then only HAVE one secret.

J.

The Real Redundancy

To the Revolutionist
 the first time around
is the real redundancy.

In the City, all family squabbles can only get worse.

          First P.S.: “I guess you realize what this suggests?”
Second P.S.: “Yeah, either stay out of the City, or out of families.”

(Perhaps I sometimes do not hesitate enough.)

One version of the, First and Final Chapters of Secondary History:

What goes in must come out, except for the fact that what goes in was already out.

To subversive minds that really “want to know”:

Contra Knowledge, (note I say “contra knowledge” – not ignorance),
real contra knowledge is always attractive…(or at least amusing).

A certain would-be thinker at the City College described his present intellectual state as “Dead without conviction.”

J.

Staying Power

Even after all these years, this one guy still faithfully places flowers at the site of his last thought.

 Those who can refrain from checking their progress can probably do well.

 The mediocre tend to find much of what happens, “highly un-called-for.”

 One ole gent offered this terpsichorean truism for a Tuesday:
“In that ubiquitous City ballroom, we all dance backward to someone’s favorite tune.”

 An ordinary thought
with “staying power”
also has dismaying power

J..

Rude Noises

One kid said, “I don’t care to live anywhere but here.”
And the ole man asked, “You mean ‘right here’?”
And the kid affirmed, “Yes, ‘right here.’”
The father queried, “You mean ‘right here’?”
And the son answered, “Yes, yes, you could not be more correct, Each and Every ‘here.’”

In certain minimally stabilized time zones, the “guy in Chile” ain’t really, unless everyone else says he is.  (“Hey, don’t wait supper for me.  Hey, if you don’t hear, I did – I didn’t.”)

One ole sorehead father, (I suppose in his sweet, paternal attempt to prepare his youngster for the upcoming ole-sorehead-future), advised his off-spring like this:  “Kid, EVERY thing ‘serves you right.’”

Rude noises issue
from rude appliances.

One of those petulant park speakers was discoursing thusly, “Organized crime will never be eradicated so long as a single man is alive.” 
And a listener spoke up and said, “I don’t understand that.” 
To which the speaker replied, “Say what?” 
And the passer-by restated, “That doesn’t make any sense.” 
To which the discourser summarily replied, “Ah, but it will to that last man alive.”

J.

Go Out With A BANG! (Post-Holiday Edition)

When one knows how to expansively, and ultra-dimensionally, re-arrange dichotomously presented choices, one may see affairs catered such that one may have one’s cake and eat it too, and enjoy indigestion shared with the choice givers.

The ballad of one celestial, if not cerebral Casanova:

“Let us romance our thoughts,
Without guilt, without score,

Fuck ‘em tonight,
Leave ‘em next morn.”

The saga of “Known Dangers And The Three Unknown Implications”:

Regarding “Known Dangers,” they are either:
One:     No longer alive,
Two:    Are not dangerous, or
Three:  Were not properly known to begin with.
(Storyteller’s Addendum:  This could have specific, orthopedic significance regarding City attempts to change known “bad habits.”)

When asked about it directly, almost everyone will say, “Yes”, they believe, “it’s important.”

Remember:  It’s better to go out with a Bang, than to either just “go out,” or to bang.

J.

The Beach (Holiday Edition)

A new fable I wrote for this occasion:

 There was once an island in the middle of an ocean, and on the island was a beach – a beach with unusual characteristics:  The beach decided that it wanted a full knowledge of the island’s nature: The beach studies the cyclical ebbing and flowing of the tides surround the island.  It studied the endless turning of the heavens above the island; it studied the effect of the ever blowing winds upon its terrain, and the beach ultimately tried to include a study of itself in its efforts.

But, there was one thing – one critical aspect of the island that the beach could not study, (or even see), and that was, what was below the island!  Was the island floating on the water…or was it resting on something below, and if so, what?  No matter how sincere, intense and informed was the beach of the island via its visible environment, without a knowledge of what lay below it, no full understanding of its nature was possible.

This is my latest tale; I alone wrote it, and the responsibility for its meaning and intent rests solely with me.  I must say to you that:  I do not know what it means nor what my intention was in writing it…other than to have something to do…with my mind…at the time.  Thus, are potentially elucidating tales loosed upon an unprepared public.

J.

A Walk in the Park

Simply admitting “you’re human,” won’t impress anybody…(leastwise anybody of any consequence).

When you hear someone say, “May I have this dance?” it’s already too late.

The proper response to all “meaningful” City axioms, proverbs and laws, should be the question:  “For what?”

Wearing two pairs of pants won’t make you smell any better.

While walking through the park one day, this one chap had the sensation of the park walking through him…he never forgot this experience, although, he never remembered it either.

J.

Do You Have A Choice?

Under routine conditions, if you “know what’s coming next” – it’s not.

In a warm, misty shift through which I recently passed, I heard one time-layered voice say to a certain ink-stained ear, “Yes, that’s all well and good, but from whom shall a Shakespeare steal?”  (Bye the bye, back to a more terrestrial tone, pertinent to perhaps obliqueness only, but you might care to consider this:  Being there first will not insure success, but there’s no form of victory for the second horse over the wire.)

One guy I met a long-time-to-ago-last-week, and of whom I still have multi-colored memories, told me semi-longingly, (which was the best he could muster, being from the Heinz side of the family), that during those times of extreme hardship and dire disappointment, he would slip quietly into his large, walk-in pantry, turn down the light and remind himself aloud, “I would prefer to be naked, than to be king.”  (I ask you now, what’s there not to like about such an attitude with its own man?)

In the middle of a conversation, this interlude:

First Speaker:   “May I digress?”

Reply:  “Do you have a choice?”

If you’ll whine just before you hurt yourself,
you’ll save yourself a bunch of time.

J.

Warning Signs Aren't Fair Warning

One night, in a fitful dream, a voice said to the king, “A man who will smile at anything is a threat to the empire.” Daybreak’s regal conclusion:  Too much late night snacking, or too much undigested power.

For some, a loaded explanation can be more dangerous than a ballistic muffin, or a carton of the hives.

To a really impatient rebel, warning signs aren’t fair warning…but out there – what is!

One guy over behind a history tree advised his kid thusly, “You best stiff-up in this life cause they ain’t no consumer groups in heaven.”

And leave us all recall and remember:

Great thoughts are their own re…no…wait,
are someone ELSE’s reward.

J.

Everyone's Turn is Next

You’re only a virgin for a moment or so.

I don’t know…I can’t guarantee it, but running down the hall could make classes start earlier.

In some instances you can “look on the bright side” thusly:

If you die, they won’t send you a bill.

Amendment:

For the sake of agricultural veracity, I should note that this is not yet a valid universal expectation.  (But as always – just wait.)

A warrior renowned for his bravery and stoicism in the face of battle and injury, when queried, said that whilst in combat he simply ignored the wounds.  Later, when the surgeons attend thereto he would, for instance, if suffering from a lacerated left leg, pretend that the limb being painfully treated was someone else’s leg and not his.  A raw recruit hearing this thought, “I wonder how that all works when he’s seeing the psychiatrist?”

In most places you may ever visit – EVERY one’s turn is next.

J.

Real Time

Any resource is always something else turned inside out.

Everywhere you’ve ever heard of is actually someplace else.

All months are the same
to the sun burned.

Pathology is an illusional occupation, since nothing is ever entirely dead around these parts.

The real stuff doesn’t happen in the City’s version of “real time.”

J.

It Came from Hell

The practice of self control may take you to several places…self control is not one of them.

Any time you make a six-G move in five-G conditions, you make noise.

Down over in that directions was a guy who concocted himself a watch that shaved a minute off every hour.  (He was shortly forced to seek larger quarters so as to store all the shavings.)

I guess one of the neat things about being a Revolutionist is that you can rip your coat and split your pants more than once.

The marque listed the current feature as a movie entitled, “It Came from Hell.”  An ole sorehead saw it and muttered, “Hell, what didn’t it.”

J.

Alternatives

No matter where you are in the City, a ghetto is nearby,

If the intellectual Revolution was any more secretive, even those involved wouldn’t know about it.

People with perfect pitch don’t have to sing to themselves.

After careful consideration of all his alternatives, one fellow realized he had none. 
Another guy, after a thorough study of all his options, discovered he had none. 
And another chap riding by on a saw horse recognized that in regard to the question of “alternatives vs options,” the answer, surprisingly, is always a prime number.

Everything responds
to a treatment of
originality.

J.

Places

As one little feller so aptly announced, “Any friend of me, is no friend of mine.”

In some places, it gets later before it gets any earlier.

Turgidity needs the best P.R.

Immediately after awakening, he would silently slip down the hall to the dark bathroom, carefully creep up to the medicine cabinet, then suddenly throw on the lights, leap up to the mirror, put his finger firmly on the reflected image of his nose and exclaim, “Okay, you, hold it right there!”

A man who knows his place, will certainly always have a place…(if that’s any tepid consolation).

J.

Make the Story Fit the Headline

Today’s Tip:  Don’t pronounce that which is too stable.

One fearless fellow announced , “Part of what I say is based on what I know.”

After listening to the patient’s complaints and rambles for a charitable length of time, the brain doctor announced, “You’re saying that you don’t care whether you lose your mind or not tells me one of two things,” (and from behind a curtain the doc’s brother added, “and that goes double for me”).

A Revolutionist’s intellect and that which it perceives should be like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

One of man’s jobs is to make the story fit the headline.

J.

Going Out To Play

One king told himself, (and any of his kids who would hear) that once you’re on stage, you better have either a talent, a cause, or a clique.

If your superiors get curious, take sick leave.

Anyone who can tell you “what’s wrong with you,” doesn’t know what’s wrong with you.

If you’re going out to play, you can go out as far as you like.

Do remember this rule regarding Secondary games, (and not the confused version generally used in the City), to wit: 

If you can’t lose,
you can’t play.

J.

The Number You Hate

Everyone – yes that is a lot, but everyone –  has a number they hate, but it is generally kept secret until seven minutes before you die.

Even ideas that seem ambiguous can tell you something.

Some are put off
by the mere invitation
to attend.

One solar system whose orbit began to wobble, no throb, said, “I’ll act humble if it’ll help.”

All real Revolutionists over in one sector are threatening to totally drop the word “really.”  (Next, they’ll probably take on “totally,” you watch.)

J.

The Limits of Thought

The limits of thought
are right where you think they are.

Turgidity needs the best PR.

An institution, a movement, a philosophy separate from the people who support and believe in it, is an invisible sheep in history’s clothing.

Around these parts, it’s hard to be memorable while you’re still alive.  (This could have something to do with the water, the way you tell it, or the number of dimensions – who knows.)

If you’re gonna work in someone else’s backyard, at least be quiet about it.

J.

A Beautiful Metaphor

There is of course the “kiddie version” of the Revolutionist’s ark, wherein are at least two views of everything.

There’s gonna be this one guy, who always brought his own drugs and entertainment with him, wherever he went, even when empty handed at a nudist colony.

One rainy day while his little grey cells were just sitting around noodling, one group of them said,
“Only those who can hear the difference between Haydn and Mozart know the difference.” 
And shortly another cellular collection replied, “But only those who know that there is a difference between Haydn and Mozart can hear a difference.” 
And finally, the man himself spoke up and said, “Would you repeat that last part again?” 
And quite startled, both groups yelled out, “Who said that?”

One young lad, in his burgeoning attempt to become his own advisor and philosopher, said to himself, “What’s the good of having something if you’re just going to use it…”  (Well, I told you his efforts were inchoate.)

The external world is a perfectly beautiful metaphor for your internal one, for the very reasons you should have by now come to suspect.

J.

The Loyal Opposition

Don’t be a sophomore in a junior world. 
(Oh yeah, and P.S.:)
Don’t be a junior in a junior world.

Another snippet of another conversation:

“Well, look on the bright side, those with the most to lose can always lose the most.”

A “fully functional” government, including an intellectual one, always includes the “loyal opposition.”

Pure wool checks
 bounce in polyester banks.

In a para-lateral, up-coming world, a guy told me that he was gonna “turn up the heat” by substituting the word “but” every time he wanted to say “and.”

J.