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Playfulness exists to fend off a society that doesn't want the mind to get too far out of hand; so it doesn't divulge too much. And the rest is a sorry tale!

Look how the women compete! It is a hard thing to watch.

In America only the well-made thing is wise. It can be a giant, rolling an inflated ball around in an enormous field grinning madly and childishly at all the intricacies crushed below. And then it sulks and goes mad another way. Wisdom can retract the claws of the animal; the politics in things.

We don't give up on America. It is just something "in you," and you either find out what it is "in you" or else surrender the beauty of it to the sighing thugs. Or else throw ones loyalty in the direction of a rather heinous sort of authoritative state.

We won't call it soul. That is a discarded word thrown around by nineteen year old singers. It is a mysterious word. What is important are the visions and dreams generated spontaneously within the whats-its-name. It is not a room where items enter identified by desire. What-it-is doesn't like sentimentality and is explicit. In speaking ambiguously about this-thing we defer to its infinite variety. But here is a problem. What-it-is has a long history, it has attained an identity now in service to a will in love with technique and power. The identity sports with that-thing. Ah, the intellect sees its own death and forms images of itself where it can! The other-thing understands eternity and so forms images of past and future!

Men are nuts in this way too: They look down a narrow tunnel when viewing the accomplishments of their ancestors. They repeat mistakes until something rears up out of control like a scientific monster. And once the monster is out there is re-awakened within human beings the "choice that wasn't made." Evil pursues.