Thinking about thinking (about thinking)

The hardest part of ideas is holding onto the slippery things. They're not things which you can easily grasp, and when you put them down, they tend to dissolve, particles sifting across the table as though repelled by one another. And you? You've been distracted, by the next composite, little humunculi piled atop one another, something distinct built from a thousand smaller aspects.

That's the thing about ideas, the thing which makes them so hard to hold on to: the thing is that there's nothing really there. Not so much as ice slippery from the melt. There's nothing there at all, nothing but a collection of smaller concepts, things that shrink down past the point where they are distinguishable from one another.

Ideas are, obviously, insubstantial. The philosophers will speak on the aspect of will, the wonder of the recursive nature of our minds. We can think about thinking...about thinking. And when we're thinking about thinking, aren't we also thinking about thinking about thinking? Or do we have to be thinking about thinking about thinking before we're thinking about thinking about thinking about thinking?

That's a structure, right there, and can you hold it in your mind for any duration, before other humunculi, not so much as lumps of silver or paste, come hurdling through that fragile house of cards composed of little more than mist...and now, what were you thinking about before the image of gleeful imps poking imaginary cloud-cards with sticks, hurdling about?

The trouble with ideas isn't that they're good or bad, rediculous or dull...the trouble with ideas is that one bowls down the previous before the first has had the chance to stand up and justify itself, recursive little thing that it is. And the trouble with people? The trouble with people is that they're so often unwilling to let an idea stand up, pull its coattails, straighten its tie, reposition its monocle, and speak for itself..let alone speak for the ones who are themselves mute, or soft spoken.