Insanity (II)

Speaking of sanity and insanity, what's that all about?

Sanity is the cone the ice cream sits in. The ice cream is crazy.

Sanity is the leash that prevents the dog from getting into trouble or getting lost.

Sanity is the rules of the game that insanity alone can master.

Sanity is the tirelessly paved roadway that allows for countless automobile adventures.

Sanity is the language and the letters and the paper and the pen that the insane poets use to go beyond it all.

Sanity is the hardworking husband whose income allows the crazy wife to play all day.

Sanity is ultimate order, reliability, consistency, form, dependability.
And believe me I depend on it. Like a child depends on its parents.

The world is my parents. History has been set up perfectly for me to dance around like a silly little jester.

I didn't build the stage which catches my every manic hop, nor the wires and knobs which make my craziness larger than life.

I didn't invent or build or maintain the lovely van which carries us from city to city.

I didn't invent the internet which provides a home for these fragmented words.

I didn't invent the hormones or love or desire which fuel me.

I didn't invent the cello which is my remote voice.

I'm just a lucky guy who walked into a scene which was perfectly built over the past 20,000 yrs by sanity's devoted minions. God bless them all. I sit here and my whole thing involves taking advantage of so much groundwork that's been laid.
My job is easy. I get to sit around and play all day because some amazing person invented balls.

I don't know how all this got here, but its insane that it did. The idea that sanity can even exist is insane.

Insanity LOVES sanity, for without it it would never survive.

On the other hand, does sanity NEED INsanity? I won't be so pretentious to say it does, but it sure seems to appreciate it.

Cones would be so bland and empty without ice cream.

Rushadicus