Sunday 10:30 p.m.
It's a building yard. I got left in here with the nicotine withdrawals and the computery thing with the scanner attached, and there is no telly, and no radio, and no nothing really. We are always expecting some incoming.
So I sat here from five till nine and there was no nothing but me and the machine, and the dismembering of the first book I got published, and the scanning, and some reflections, and the machine not working ... and it wasn't to do with me, Jack ... suddenly it stopped scanning and started taking photies.
The war against the machines is coming, isn't it, Hotboy? I fung hope so, Jack! I'd have a problem killing human beings, but killing machines would be dead easy. They're only a couple of hundred years old. We've been here at least since Celtic won the European Cup, circa 1967.. then the machines immediately started taking over..
They were selling plonko collapso tonight in the Scotmid Coop place for £1:99. I have never seen a bottle of plonko for that ever. It's like it's for free, except nothing is for free when you're stretching to get steamboats at £1:99 a bottle. But it's half price compared to the usual. I couldn't believe it. I goes up to the boy and hands over the bottle. The till rings up £12:50. I says to the boy, Oh, no! Shurely shume mistake, and took away the bottle and got another bottle which rung up at $14:50. Well, I got them for just under four pounds eventually, but nobody knew why. This is called alienation. I don't know the guys in the shop. They don't know what anything costs. We all shake our heads. Nobody knows: nobody cares; just so the boxes get ticked.
The old, toothless one and I cycled towards the Cramond Inn yesterday. What fortunate creatures! He explained to me as we were heading that way about all the things I'd have to do to become rich from publishing my crap books on Kindle. All of this involved some time. Lots of clicky clickiness. But it is very hard for the flatheids to realise that I really don't want to do anything, and how could I since I don't believe in anything, and what I'd really like to do is extend my patience in the sitting quietly doing nothing, and say fung off to everything else.
Fortunately, the ten books what I have wrote will all be parked on Kindle before the summertime. A sigh of relief. It's not about the money, Jack! Afterwards, I will be able to stop writing and trying and just do the bliss.
Is is all about you, Hotboy? It might be, Jack, but I do not think so. Still, first day off the tobacco this month. Just don't expect my personality to be my personality. It's been dead cool though. Maybe.
Sunday, 10 April 2011
Saturday, 9 April 2011
Downsides!
Saturday 6:25 p.m.
The trouble with getting so much of the bliss, and contemplating the emptiness, is that you stop bothering about stuff. Like you just don't care as much. You might as well just go and do some more of the bliss.
For instance, if I could be bothered enough I could go and ask a medic about the leprosy. But I think that with the leprosy, as will all diseases, it will get better, or it will get worse, and it probably won't stay the same for very long at all. It's not stopping me meditating. It's not sore.
Nobody is going to want to kiss you if you're exhibiting symptoms of leprosy, Hotboy. There wasn't that much of a queue beforehand, Jack.
I think if I ever get to be sans jobbie, I'll stop washing, and changing my clothes, and stuff like that. I might seem a bit neurotic to bother about such things. You can always do the bliss. Just stop whatever else you were doing and do the bliss instead. You might become so succumbed to the bliss that you can't do anything anyway. Lolling around, zonked in absorptions, detached from the everyday. You might think this is due to affluence, but you might be able to loll about in the gutter just as effectively, if you just got the hang of it.
6.50 p.m.
By the way, just to show I'm not a fatalist, I've decided to cure the leprosy by rubbing it; rubbing it in little circles would be best. Hmmm? I think I'd best leave it at that.
The trouble with getting so much of the bliss, and contemplating the emptiness, is that you stop bothering about stuff. Like you just don't care as much. You might as well just go and do some more of the bliss.
For instance, if I could be bothered enough I could go and ask a medic about the leprosy. But I think that with the leprosy, as will all diseases, it will get better, or it will get worse, and it probably won't stay the same for very long at all. It's not stopping me meditating. It's not sore.
Nobody is going to want to kiss you if you're exhibiting symptoms of leprosy, Hotboy. There wasn't that much of a queue beforehand, Jack.
I think if I ever get to be sans jobbie, I'll stop washing, and changing my clothes, and stuff like that. I might seem a bit neurotic to bother about such things. You can always do the bliss. Just stop whatever else you were doing and do the bliss instead. You might become so succumbed to the bliss that you can't do anything anyway. Lolling around, zonked in absorptions, detached from the everyday. You might think this is due to affluence, but you might be able to loll about in the gutter just as effectively, if you just got the hang of it.
6.50 p.m.
By the way, just to show I'm not a fatalist, I've decided to cure the leprosy by rubbing it; rubbing it in little circles would be best. Hmmm? I think I'd best leave it at that.
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
Books and stuff!
There are now four full days from tomorrow before I go back to the jobbie. This is wonderful!
The men were papering the wall so I had to go and sit in the hut. I would have went there this afternoon anyway, but it didn't feel like volunteering. Then I went a walk round the Botanics and took the snaps.
The pile of books are the ones which had to be saved. We've got a cupboard which is used solely for storing old books and it's never opened. I wanted it and all the books thrown out. I put them in black plastic bags and didn't look at them. The Domestic Bliss went through them and this pile is what we have to save. I kept three books.
One was The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. This might be the most boring history book ever written, but I read it to the Domestic Bliss during the heavy drug intermissions when she was in labour. I also set aside Cellini's Autobiography because I remember delighting in it so much. I can't remember what the last very important book was, but it might have been the Holy Bible. I wouldn't mind keeping the books if I could throw out the cupboard.
The Bliss!
Wednesday
I feel constrained about writing about the bliss because most of the regular visitors to this bloggy are too dumb to meditate and, I have found, that the too dumb to meditate do not like to hear about the bliss. It's like the elephant in the room that no one wants to address. It's the question hanging in the air, a question like: Why are you a moron?, or, What's the matter with you anyway?
On the other hand, there might be not much to say about the bliss, except it just keeps on getting better and better and better. The effects of meditating is the one thing for sure that in this life will not disappoint me.
Sometimes I feel terribly sorry for the flatheids, especially my contemporaries who are heading into the death zone with hardly a leg to stand on already.
But when I sit down and close my eyes .... you're in the bliss and tons of it right away. If you can keep you focus, it'll stay there. If you imagine deities over you head and feel the dripping down on bliss, it gets even blissier. If you do a vase breath, you go to the moon.
What I was very interested in this morning, was the lying down bliss. This occurs when you're in the bath and when you go to bed at night sober. This I sometimes think of as the yoga nidra bliss. Sometimes I can bring it on in the morning if I feel too tired to sit upright first thing. I did that this morning. Sat up, lay down again, sat up.
I had the bliss when I was lying flat on my back and on my side this morning. This is because the bliss is getting much stronger now.
The bliss is my big pal. Sometime, and it won't be so long away really, I might find myself lying flat on my back and unable to move or do anything much due to being in my deathbed. If that happens ... just give me another year or so! ... I think I'll be able to still do the bliss if I can stop my mind from wandering. Even maybe if my mind does wander. At least, sometimes.
So now I've got some free time and I think I'll just close my eyes and ....
I love meditating. I've enjoyed it so far and I'm bound to enjoy it even more in future. So if you want to be a flatheid, good luck to you!
It's not nice to gloat, is it, Jack? No, Hotboy, it is not nice to gloat. I'm gloating like hell, Jack! I'm gloating like hell!
When I don't drink, there's nothing much to blog about!!
I feel constrained about writing about the bliss because most of the regular visitors to this bloggy are too dumb to meditate and, I have found, that the too dumb to meditate do not like to hear about the bliss. It's like the elephant in the room that no one wants to address. It's the question hanging in the air, a question like: Why are you a moron?, or, What's the matter with you anyway?
On the other hand, there might be not much to say about the bliss, except it just keeps on getting better and better and better. The effects of meditating is the one thing for sure that in this life will not disappoint me.
Sometimes I feel terribly sorry for the flatheids, especially my contemporaries who are heading into the death zone with hardly a leg to stand on already.
But when I sit down and close my eyes .... you're in the bliss and tons of it right away. If you can keep you focus, it'll stay there. If you imagine deities over you head and feel the dripping down on bliss, it gets even blissier. If you do a vase breath, you go to the moon.
What I was very interested in this morning, was the lying down bliss. This occurs when you're in the bath and when you go to bed at night sober. This I sometimes think of as the yoga nidra bliss. Sometimes I can bring it on in the morning if I feel too tired to sit upright first thing. I did that this morning. Sat up, lay down again, sat up.
I had the bliss when I was lying flat on my back and on my side this morning. This is because the bliss is getting much stronger now.
The bliss is my big pal. Sometime, and it won't be so long away really, I might find myself lying flat on my back and unable to move or do anything much due to being in my deathbed. If that happens ... just give me another year or so! ... I think I'll be able to still do the bliss if I can stop my mind from wandering. Even maybe if my mind does wander. At least, sometimes.
So now I've got some free time and I think I'll just close my eyes and ....
I love meditating. I've enjoyed it so far and I'm bound to enjoy it even more in future. So if you want to be a flatheid, good luck to you!
It's not nice to gloat, is it, Jack? No, Hotboy, it is not nice to gloat. I'm gloating like hell, Jack! I'm gloating like hell!
When I don't drink, there's nothing much to blog about!!
Saturday, 2 April 2011
Even Mare Bliss!
Saturday 6:00 p.m.
Contentment. There's just so much bliss anyway. You're immersed in the wonderful bliss and then it starts to seem that everything is happening the way it should be happening, and that everything is going to alright in the end. This makes you feel contentment in the time you are in because you have a certain certainty of wellbeing. But it doesn't feel like just wellbeing in moi. Of course, if you don't get the bliss and won't ever get it, life probably looks pretty horrible if you dared to look hard enough. Well, that's not my fault.
So the heat has slowly dissipated from the universe and there is just a load of old photons left maybe, and they're heading towards absolute zero where nothing happens, and time stops going forward.
Or that's the way it looks as if it's happening. What about the bliss? Will the bliss still be there? This is very hard to say, but I do know that the bliss is there just now and it doesn't seem to be a reason for that in evolutionary terms. It doesn't give you an advantage, not in that way. But it seems to involve feelings and you'd think these might not exist outside the human body, but they don't exist in any human body the too dumb to meditate are every going to be aware of. It sometimes is not quite in the body and not quite out of it, is the bliss.
But if you can imagine the end of the universe with time no longer going forwards, maybe that's what the end result of calming meditations are like, except you'd have to wallop in a great big dose of the bliss, and when some other feelings arise, they are wonderful.
If it's wonderful, it's good, Jack! If it's wonderful, how can it be bad?
Contentment. There's just so much bliss anyway. You're immersed in the wonderful bliss and then it starts to seem that everything is happening the way it should be happening, and that everything is going to alright in the end. This makes you feel contentment in the time you are in because you have a certain certainty of wellbeing. But it doesn't feel like just wellbeing in moi. Of course, if you don't get the bliss and won't ever get it, life probably looks pretty horrible if you dared to look hard enough. Well, that's not my fault.
So the heat has slowly dissipated from the universe and there is just a load of old photons left maybe, and they're heading towards absolute zero where nothing happens, and time stops going forward.
Or that's the way it looks as if it's happening. What about the bliss? Will the bliss still be there? This is very hard to say, but I do know that the bliss is there just now and it doesn't seem to be a reason for that in evolutionary terms. It doesn't give you an advantage, not in that way. But it seems to involve feelings and you'd think these might not exist outside the human body, but they don't exist in any human body the too dumb to meditate are every going to be aware of. It sometimes is not quite in the body and not quite out of it, is the bliss.
But if you can imagine the end of the universe with time no longer going forwards, maybe that's what the end result of calming meditations are like, except you'd have to wallop in a great big dose of the bliss, and when some other feelings arise, they are wonderful.
If it's wonderful, it's good, Jack! If it's wonderful, how can it be bad?
Tuesday, 29 March 2011
Shouting at the Telly!
Tuesday 8:45 p.m.
Once I saw this guy shouting at the teevee news and thought this amusing and quaint. I do it a lot now, usually when the BBC is boosting the monarchy, which they do almost every evening with all the obsequiousness of a million Indian waiters. Tonight they were advertising the Hewitt kid who's going to walk to the North Pole, or something. They're trying to knock him off, so they are. He'll probably get fed to the polar bears. Still, if his half brother gets killed by the moslems ... He'd make a much better king for the stupid Englanders. At least, he's English through and through.
I was once part of a photo opportunity for the Horsey One. She was visiting this exhibition in the Fruit Gallery and when I heard she was coming to be filmed for the news speaking to some kids, I tried to leave and the security wouldn't let me. We, including a very pregnant woman with two kids, were held hostage for several hours. She showed up and walked about for ten minutes so she could get on the news and then left. I was completely outraged.
This boy on the teevee last night (great having BBC Four on freeview!) said if our sun was represented by a grain of sand, then there wouldn't be enough grains of sand in all the beaches of the world to represent the number of stars in the universe. So what's happening with the royalty on the teevee maybe isn't really that important. But I just find it disgraceful to be reigned over by anyone, to be a subject and not a citizen.
The vote against the monarchy has got to go to the SNP. Only by being independent have we any bloody chance of getting rid of them. A lot of the little Englanders 'love' the monarchy. Even some Scottishy folk, but mainly the evil protestant bourgeois, and some other stupid people. The tims never liked them.
I got distracted in the hut this evening by thinking about my kidbook called Light in the Dark. It's a lousy title. I was thinking of changing it to The Demon Masters, then I thought I'd change it to The Land of the Demon Masters. What do you think? Do you think that's an improvement? Almost anything would be. You could have a map as well, if you had someone to draw one.
Once I saw this guy shouting at the teevee news and thought this amusing and quaint. I do it a lot now, usually when the BBC is boosting the monarchy, which they do almost every evening with all the obsequiousness of a million Indian waiters. Tonight they were advertising the Hewitt kid who's going to walk to the North Pole, or something. They're trying to knock him off, so they are. He'll probably get fed to the polar bears. Still, if his half brother gets killed by the moslems ... He'd make a much better king for the stupid Englanders. At least, he's English through and through.
I was once part of a photo opportunity for the Horsey One. She was visiting this exhibition in the Fruit Gallery and when I heard she was coming to be filmed for the news speaking to some kids, I tried to leave and the security wouldn't let me. We, including a very pregnant woman with two kids, were held hostage for several hours. She showed up and walked about for ten minutes so she could get on the news and then left. I was completely outraged.
This boy on the teevee last night (great having BBC Four on freeview!) said if our sun was represented by a grain of sand, then there wouldn't be enough grains of sand in all the beaches of the world to represent the number of stars in the universe. So what's happening with the royalty on the teevee maybe isn't really that important. But I just find it disgraceful to be reigned over by anyone, to be a subject and not a citizen.
The vote against the monarchy has got to go to the SNP. Only by being independent have we any bloody chance of getting rid of them. A lot of the little Englanders 'love' the monarchy. Even some Scottishy folk, but mainly the evil protestant bourgeois, and some other stupid people. The tims never liked them.
I got distracted in the hut this evening by thinking about my kidbook called Light in the Dark. It's a lousy title. I was thinking of changing it to The Demon Masters, then I thought I'd change it to The Land of the Demon Masters. What do you think? Do you think that's an improvement? Almost anything would be. You could have a map as well, if you had someone to draw one.
Sunday, 27 March 2011
Fragments!
Sunday 10:25 p.m.
Before I started drinking home brew this evening, I sat in the lobby for an hour and a half, and tried to observe the arisings and abidings and declinings of whatever, and a great amount of it involved huge amounts of the bliss in its extended forms, and it went beyond anything before, and I wondered what was the point of that if you couldn't just be nice.
My head is full of Micky Ward. There is is bit in the Gatti ninth round when he gets hit by a body shot, and takes a deep breath, and tries to go on. Breathe, lift your shoulders, soldier on. It's been an inspiration watching that. So it's not about sitting quietly doing nothing and being a flatheid or not. Adjusting to circumstances.
I'm not a nice person, at least, not as nice as some people. Of course, I am a much nicer person that most of the flatheided, evil bourgeois who land on this bloggy, but they are such a poor representative sample of the human beings that they can almost be discounted.
The woman who gave her kidney to her son phoned up tonight. She's home. She's fine. So far so good is the beneficiary of her spontaneous kindness. Ask most of the folk who land on this bloggy to spit on you if you were on fire and see how far you get!
I went past the allotmenteer at the gate, the one who is young and with the fabulous, truly fabulous butt. I'd been meditating for some time on the edge of my allotment, preparing for the brilliant meditations I was going to have before I started on the home brew, and I would have edged past her if I could have, but I had to stop and stammer and be inchoate in her presence for a time. We talked about pujas, and visualisations, and such things as that, but I was not holding my own very well.and being less articulate than I should have been because I was really dying to bang her brains out. This is totally uncool! This is not the way to face the world.
They gather for some kind of Green Tara puja every month. I'm allowed to go as well. Bugger all idea what that's all about. But I will go sometime. It's like a Graham Greene seance or something. The allotmenteer has just got her Ph.D in botanical things. She's American. She'd like to get a field trip thing organised to pick up plants abroad and identify them.
Could you be of help to her, Hotboy? I could certainly hump her to death, and I'm sure that would be a big help and a surprise to her, and make her realise something about old men like moi ... but I would like to just be friendly, kind of friendly.
I assume in ten years time this is not going to be an issue, but I assumed that ten years ago. I would just like to be as nice as the folk I meet.
Attraction and repulsion. Ignorance, then what you want and what you don't want. Greed and hate. Dearie, dearie me!
I did the jumpings, and prostrations, and shadow boxings (as Micky Ward) tonight before I got to this blogginess and drinking home brew like a poor person.. I'm sixty years old. Very fit for that, so I am. And a fortunate creature to boot!
Next Morning!
Sometimes it's a bit of a surprise to come back here next day and see what you've written. I think I should retitle this blog The Drunken Yowlings of a Dirty Old Man. But I get paid tomorrow and the drunkenness shall cease for a little while. Hurrah!
Before I started drinking home brew this evening, I sat in the lobby for an hour and a half, and tried to observe the arisings and abidings and declinings of whatever, and a great amount of it involved huge amounts of the bliss in its extended forms, and it went beyond anything before, and I wondered what was the point of that if you couldn't just be nice.
My head is full of Micky Ward. There is is bit in the Gatti ninth round when he gets hit by a body shot, and takes a deep breath, and tries to go on. Breathe, lift your shoulders, soldier on. It's been an inspiration watching that. So it's not about sitting quietly doing nothing and being a flatheid or not. Adjusting to circumstances.
I'm not a nice person, at least, not as nice as some people. Of course, I am a much nicer person that most of the flatheided, evil bourgeois who land on this bloggy, but they are such a poor representative sample of the human beings that they can almost be discounted.
The woman who gave her kidney to her son phoned up tonight. She's home. She's fine. So far so good is the beneficiary of her spontaneous kindness. Ask most of the folk who land on this bloggy to spit on you if you were on fire and see how far you get!
I went past the allotmenteer at the gate, the one who is young and with the fabulous, truly fabulous butt. I'd been meditating for some time on the edge of my allotment, preparing for the brilliant meditations I was going to have before I started on the home brew, and I would have edged past her if I could have, but I had to stop and stammer and be inchoate in her presence for a time. We talked about pujas, and visualisations, and such things as that, but I was not holding my own very well.and being less articulate than I should have been because I was really dying to bang her brains out. This is totally uncool! This is not the way to face the world.
They gather for some kind of Green Tara puja every month. I'm allowed to go as well. Bugger all idea what that's all about. But I will go sometime. It's like a Graham Greene seance or something. The allotmenteer has just got her Ph.D in botanical things. She's American. She'd like to get a field trip thing organised to pick up plants abroad and identify them.
Could you be of help to her, Hotboy? I could certainly hump her to death, and I'm sure that would be a big help and a surprise to her, and make her realise something about old men like moi ... but I would like to just be friendly, kind of friendly.
I assume in ten years time this is not going to be an issue, but I assumed that ten years ago. I would just like to be as nice as the folk I meet.
Attraction and repulsion. Ignorance, then what you want and what you don't want. Greed and hate. Dearie, dearie me!
I did the jumpings, and prostrations, and shadow boxings (as Micky Ward) tonight before I got to this blogginess and drinking home brew like a poor person.. I'm sixty years old. Very fit for that, so I am. And a fortunate creature to boot!
Next Morning!
Sometimes it's a bit of a surprise to come back here next day and see what you've written. I think I should retitle this blog The Drunken Yowlings of a Dirty Old Man. But I get paid tomorrow and the drunkenness shall cease for a little while. Hurrah!
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