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necessary to cut away dullness, lobotomy, buzzing, belief in human beings, stagnancy, images, and accumulation. As soon as we stop believing in human beings, rather know we are dogs and trees, we'll start to be happy.
    Once we've gotten a glimpse of the vision world (notice here how the conventional language obscures: WE as if somebodies are the centre of activity SEE what is the centre of activity: pure VISION. Actually, the VISION creates US. Is anything true?) Once we have gotten a glimpse of the vision world, we must be careful not to think the vision world is us. We must go farther and become crazier.
    I didn't have enough food, so I started working in a hippy bakery.
    It was 1977.
    Working for money is the omnipresent fact of American life.
    I wasn't allowed to cook or make any decisions. My job was to hand people the bread or cookies they wanted and take their money. I also made vegetable juices, sliced bialies, dumped spreads made out of tofu and vegetables between the slices.
    I am nobody because I work. I have to pretend I like the customers and love giving them cookies no matter how they treat me:
    Inside a small East Village bakery.) Fat Lady: What's the ingredients in that cooky? Lousy Mindless Salesgirl: a bit of coconut and safflower oils, all hard-pressed, wheat flour, barley malt, water, and sesame seeds. Fat Lady: Is the wheat flour organic?
    Lousy Mindless Salesgirl: All the ingredients we use are organic. Fat Lady: What's barley malt?
    Clammerings of ten customers in background. One grimy kid is feeling up the cookies.) Lousy Mindless Salesgirl (who never has any expression): It's a grain
    derivative. Fat Lady: You don't use sugar or honey. Lousy Mindless Salesgirl: No.
    (The grimy kid has grabbed two maple-hazelnut cookies and run.) Fat Lady: What's in that cooky there?
    Lousy Mindless Salesgirl: That's a sunflower-cranberry cooky. Fat Lady: Is there wheat flour in that one?
    (A thirty-year-old man is rummaging through the bialies. The salesgirl turns around and says, 'Excuse me, sir, I'll be with you in a second.)
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    Thirty-year-old Man: I want this bialy.
    Lousy Mindless Salesgirl: I'll be able to help as soon as I finish with
    this lady. Fat Lady: What's in this cooky? (She upsets the whole tray.) Lousy Mindless Salesgirl (looking around quickly): That's a maple-currant oatflour. (To the thirty-year-old man) I'll be with you in a
    second. Thirty-year-old Man (crying): Every time I come to this bakery, nobody
    pays any attention to me. It isn't like it used to be in the old days
    when I could sit here and talk. People would take care of me. (He
    walks out sobbing loudly.) Fat Lady: And what's in this cooky? I have to be very careful. My
    doctor told me I'm not allowed to eat any sweets. Lousy Mindless Salesgirl: That's a carob fudgie. Fat Lady: That means it has sugar. A Rich Girl: I just want this cooky. (Grabbing a peanut cooky and
    breaking the shelf.) Here. Lousy Mindless Salesgirl (taking the change and returning 5cents): that'll be
    40cents(. Thank you. (To the Fat Lady) We only use barley malt, and maple
    syrup in the cookies that have maple in their names. (The baker comes out of the kitchen and tells the salesgirl she's not working hard enough. Why are so many people still waiting to be served? He hired her to WORK. None of his other workers have these problems.) Fat Lady: Well, what's in that cooky? Lousy Mindless Salesgirl: That's a peanut cooky. Fat Lady: Does it have any sugar in it? A Thin Young Woman: I want ten loaves of rice bread, a dozen bialies,
    three dozen assorted cookies, two vegetable juices, and two sandwiches
    wrapped to go. I need it now. Lousy Mindless Salesgirl (to the Fat Lady): Would you like a cooky,
    ma'am? (While five customers are grabbing cookies, a sixth customer climbs on their shoulders to get at the cookies. All the cooky shelves collapse.) Fat Lady: Miss? I want that cooky over there. (Points to a poppy-seed
    cooky lying under a dead - concussion due to