The thoughts!

Sunday, 11:10 p.m.

                I found a greater understanding of the thoughts and the understanding of such this evening when someone asked me what was the fung matter with me recently. 

                It's the drink and drugs, Jack! The pollutions and the accumulations, the things that happen when you are not expecting them because you thought you were just you, and not merely an effect of the pollutions and accumulations, and all the other bits. Everybody thinks they are somebody; that their thoughts have a validity and truth. But they don't, Jack! They fung don't. What they have is superficial surface ... valid presence ... but if you behave badly, you get bad thoughts. Kalu Rinpoche, who was banging the driver along with his pal on his tour across Europe ... and thus might not have been so far apart from the rest of us, as we might like to elevate such joes, because we are fascists, especially the stupid, evil bourgeois among us, said  that Christianity wasn't very profound, but it had the help of telling you that if you did bad stuff, you went to hell! If you do good stuff, you go to heaven. Mindfulness and funging yourself up with anything tells you that this must be true.

            Most folks, Hotboy, go to bed sober and straight, and do not have these problems, not the ones that you have. Veneer, Jack. It's just veneer.

            Had I not been such a lazy basturn, and had I not hated the toadying up to the evil bourgeois, and the marching up and down in line ... def, dight, def, dight, def, dight,  ... mayhap now I might have been able to retire and await the decline in some comfort. But it never was going to be like that for us, Jack, the noble working classes. What I have to do is get all my teeth pulled out. It's my fatal flaw. What do you mean, Hotboy? How can this be so?

            If I retired in August, they'd give me £5,000 a year and £15,000 of a lump some. This is a fabulous amount of money, Hotboy. I know, Jack! I cannot believe it myself. It's like money for nothing, but ...I give the Domestic Bliss £300 a m0nth and that would leave me with £200 a month for myself, plus some of the £15,000 in the bank after you'd repaid you're overdraft.

              What? They're offering you £15,000 to give up the jobbie, and you are not taking it?

               Okay, I don't care. I need to get all my teeth pulled out, so I don't have to have dentist bill every fung six months. I get the teeth pulled out and then get a Hummingbird guitar, a truly wonderful thing. Then I get the knuckledusters and go an live on the street. I'd like to live in front of the National Art Gallery Museum Fascade on Princes Street. Just sit all day and night. You would get trouble. Eventually, you would get killed. Before that happened, you could collect all the teeth you'd knocked out with the knuckledusters ... I really would be scary with them, I really would! Folk who think they know me, don't even get near encapsulating that!!... I would collect the teeth I'd knocked out and make a necklace from them. The ultimate Fung Off Flatheid Necklace! That wouold be great. Solo. What a meditation that would be! 

               Also,  I'd have moved from the national minimum wage, where I live right now, to the jobseekers allowance of fifty spots a week.

               Vote for Moi! Vote for Moi! Nobody has ever tried to be more authentic!!

                Still, tomorrow I have to go to the jobbie. There are some of other peoples children who love me and I love them too. There are some teachers. Actually, if I could just dismiss the pollutions, it would be a wonderful world. The first thing I'm going to do tomorrow is apologise to this poor flatheid who asked me something concerning the education of the working classes, and she was lucky I didn't kill her on the spot, which was what I wanted to do! Allah Akbar!

                The Libyan war is all about creekit. The bullies throw the ball and the joe stands there hitting it back for as long as he can. Eventually, he will be out. Sometime the ex-public school boys will tire of this stupidity, and we will arise and kill all the sorry basturns, but it doesn't matter if we don't because they's all bound for hell anyway!! I hate being British! Fung hate it! I'm still one of Maggie Thatcher's taxpayer joes!!