Sunday 3:50 p.m.
Jennifer McCartney, who wrote Afloat, left a message on the last post. This is just to show you spam robots, Masai Warriors and Alien Creatutes from Outer Space that it's not just yous and bunch of perverts looking for hotboys who visit this bloggie. Real people come here too! Anyway, yous should go and read Afloat. If I managed to read it all the way through, it must be worth reading!
I was on the blower with the agent of great taste and perspicacity, Mr Arian Weston, on Friday. He thinks somebody is going to publish my new book. They've had good reports from readers and they've only one reader to wait for. It would be an amazement if that book got published. But one must no raise one's hopes. Certainly not. Speculation don't buy beer.
In the Amazing Bloggy Church of the BadBoyBlissheid, of course, we don't believe in things, especially thoughts, but if somebody would sent me a cheque ...well...
There seems to have been slight turnaround in fortune. About July, we was going nowhere with no book deal in sight, no chequies, no nothing. Now we're going to moida da bums! My agent has decided to have a closer look at the books on my webpage so see if there's anything there we can work on to present to someone with a big fat chequebook. He read the kidsbook and thought the first couple of chapters were crap, but said the book was good after that. Whilst lying investigating the bathtime bliss, it came to how to sort this problem out completely. I'm going to be rich! Rich, I tell you! I think finding out that my auntie Ursula is the Commander in Chief of Little Brown might have made a wee bit of a difference. I'd definitely vote to make her clan chief she she'd give me some money!
If my new book gets published, everything comes back in play: the full on meditations (until levitating occurs!) in the hut; the hut manager; the sponsorship deal with Erdinger beer; the Australian Ladies Volleyball Team practising in the allotment outside ... the woiks! Also, like a Richard the Third in Godfather Two, I'll be able to practise looking around with half shut eyes and saying: My enemies have all been dealt with!
I've been meditating all afternoon in the lobby. Flatheids probably think that is a big waste of a Sunday afternoon, but of course these unfortunate creatures will never experience ra bliss, the rapture and the ecstasy of doing the vajrayana, the juju of jujus! Now, I think I'll go for a run!
Sunday, 30 September 2007
Thursday, 27 September 2007
Ra Crabbitness!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Ra Crabbitness!
Thursday 00.08 a.m.
I gave someone a very bad time just before the summer began. It was at the jobbie. She came to see me, my superior, she might have thought. I think I told her to fung off, more or less. I think I left her with very little. This was a very bad thing to do. Massive ego. Don't fung with me! I don't care. Why don't you just go away? Are you not worse than useless? What a terrible thing to do to someone.
She showed up today, unexpectedly, just as moi was about to sail homeward, heading towards the Unheard Of islands. She's even more nervous than she was before. We talked about the woman who is getting cremated on Friday. There was nothing else I could talk to her about before I went away, very quickly, fung off, fung off, fung off.
Please sack me and I want to go to the hospital.
So the woman who is getting cremated on Friday did like her fags. But not so good at the end. What should you do that just gets you through it, from the beginning, through the middle and then to the end?
What do you think, Jack? I think, Hotboy, that what you've got to do is stay away from flatheids until you do not care.
But she did like her fags.
I try to get the Medicine Buddha to sit on top of my head. I say: Medicine Buddha, cure me of my addiction to ... or, just cure me of my addictions. Then, sometimes, ra bliss pours down from the Medicine Buddha, though he be only vaguely realised, and the feelings of ra bliss coursing through your body are just so fabuloso to be beyond description.
As soon as I tried to interact with anyone, I felt immediately tired and quite exhausted. And I was back, Jack! Buggeration!
Anyway, having been cured of my addictions, I felt so crabbit that I had to go out for five bottles of Budvar and, later on, a packet of fags since the pizzaman cameth, and I was really crabbit and even more tired (and emotional) by then.
So, after meditating for about four hours after work, I decided that what I should do is apologise, and we don't live long enough to contest with moi because moi is one heavy duty bastard if he just puts his mind to it. So I'll sit beside her in the crematorium and apologise.
The protestants don't know how to do death. It's completely baffling to them. The tim rituals are great. Three nights of rosaries round the coffin sitting in the living room. Out of the depths I have cried to thee, oh lord. Lord, hear my voice. The night before you go to the chapel and the body lies there overnight. Then the requiem mass. Kyria Eleison! Christe Eleison! And the wakes are always great! Wakes are great! Much better than Christmas.
I read a novel, and finished it last night. This is unusual. I reckon I must have been almost straight once, and read a lot of novels. No time for that malarkey now. It was Afloat by Jennifer McCartney. Fortunately, there was a lot of alcohol consumed in this book because I was pissed when I met her. That was in the bad old days before I became completely teetotal. I only kept reading it because I was sober and staight and the writing was excellent. Choice of words. You've got to think really hard to get that right. Poignant and written with such sensibility.
I remember reading Of Darkness and Light by the sensei and reverend a long time ago. That was a really good book.
Ra Crabbitness!
Thursday 00.08 a.m.
I gave someone a very bad time just before the summer began. It was at the jobbie. She came to see me, my superior, she might have thought. I think I told her to fung off, more or less. I think I left her with very little. This was a very bad thing to do. Massive ego. Don't fung with me! I don't care. Why don't you just go away? Are you not worse than useless? What a terrible thing to do to someone.
She showed up today, unexpectedly, just as moi was about to sail homeward, heading towards the Unheard Of islands. She's even more nervous than she was before. We talked about the woman who is getting cremated on Friday. There was nothing else I could talk to her about before I went away, very quickly, fung off, fung off, fung off.
Please sack me and I want to go to the hospital.
So the woman who is getting cremated on Friday did like her fags. But not so good at the end. What should you do that just gets you through it, from the beginning, through the middle and then to the end?
What do you think, Jack? I think, Hotboy, that what you've got to do is stay away from flatheids until you do not care.
But she did like her fags.
I try to get the Medicine Buddha to sit on top of my head. I say: Medicine Buddha, cure me of my addiction to ... or, just cure me of my addictions. Then, sometimes, ra bliss pours down from the Medicine Buddha, though he be only vaguely realised, and the feelings of ra bliss coursing through your body are just so fabuloso to be beyond description.
As soon as I tried to interact with anyone, I felt immediately tired and quite exhausted. And I was back, Jack! Buggeration!
Anyway, having been cured of my addictions, I felt so crabbit that I had to go out for five bottles of Budvar and, later on, a packet of fags since the pizzaman cameth, and I was really crabbit and even more tired (and emotional) by then.
So, after meditating for about four hours after work, I decided that what I should do is apologise, and we don't live long enough to contest with moi because moi is one heavy duty bastard if he just puts his mind to it. So I'll sit beside her in the crematorium and apologise.
The protestants don't know how to do death. It's completely baffling to them. The tim rituals are great. Three nights of rosaries round the coffin sitting in the living room. Out of the depths I have cried to thee, oh lord. Lord, hear my voice. The night before you go to the chapel and the body lies there overnight. Then the requiem mass. Kyria Eleison! Christe Eleison! And the wakes are always great! Wakes are great! Much better than Christmas.
I read a novel, and finished it last night. This is unusual. I reckon I must have been almost straight once, and read a lot of novels. No time for that malarkey now. It was Afloat by Jennifer McCartney. Fortunately, there was a lot of alcohol consumed in this book because I was pissed when I met her. That was in the bad old days before I became completely teetotal. I only kept reading it because I was sober and staight and the writing was excellent. Choice of words. You've got to think really hard to get that right. Poignant and written with such sensibility.
I remember reading Of Darkness and Light by the sensei and reverend a long time ago. That was a really good book.
Sunday, 23 September 2007
Ra Sex in Ra City!
Sunday 11:40 a.m.
"I was young once and walked by myself, and lost my way. I knew myself rich when I found a comrade. Man's joy is in man." The wall. From Sayings of the High One.
That's a viking saying. Could substitute woman for the second man. What did the vikings know?!
Sober and straight, last night as I was getting ready for sleep, Mathew Parry was on the telly. He does a show about indigenous people and this week he was in the Himalayas. I had to watch it because he was talking about the Second Noble Truth. He said suffering was caused by desire, so on this trip he was going to try and not desire anything. He was better later on, but I wasn't too happy with that.
Suffering is caused by desire based on ignorance of your own true self.
Or, suffering is caused by actions and delusions based on ignorance of your own true self.
Assumedly, if you realised your own true self, you might desire the right things.
I wrote The Buddha and the Big Bad Wolf so I could figure that stuff out.
I had a dream. I was in my previous job at the Royal High, probably a much better place to work than where I am just now. Anyway, as usual I got lost and found myself out in the city.
It's common for me to be lost in dreams, but it's usually somewhere like Freetown in Sierra Leone, everyone armed to the teeth and ill disposed. This time the town was almost heavenly in comparison. It was like a cross between Durbar Square in Kathmandu and Holy Corner in Bruntsfield. I was still in Edinburgh, but the place was full of pedestrian precincts and stupas and gothic churches; a very nice place to be. But I was lost and trying to find my way back to the Royal High.
This woman appeared. She looked like the wee blond one out of Sex and the City, though I never watched that show. She was wearing a nice raincoat like the kind private detectives wear, except neater, more expensive and more enveloping. (When it comes to female attractiveness, for me the darker the better). Anyway, she was very nice and came along with me to try to help me find my way back to the Royal High. We snogged against a wall at one point which was very nice.
I think I appeared a bit younger in this dream. Sometimes when I go out binge drinking with Brian Wilson I feel like he's my dad since he has barely a grey hair left on his head. And when he takes his false teeth out and puts them on the bar, and then pulls his bottom lip up over his nose, well ... Anyway, I suspected that this woman didn't realise I'm really dead old.
After walking around the heavenly city for a while and not finding a way out, the atmosphere between me and the wee blond woman became a bit steamier. But when it came to penetration, it turned out she was an orifice short. Nice woman but a bit of a disappointment in the end.
And what happens when you want the wrong things, Hotboy? Or want the right things in the wrong way? Well, Jack ... grief, sorrow, lamentations ... suffering in this life! And wasn't it always thus.
I might write something about how ra bliss is exponentially expanding in its wonderfulness later on just to wind up the flatheids!
posted
"I was young once and walked by myself, and lost my way. I knew myself rich when I found a comrade. Man's joy is in man." The wall. From Sayings of the High One.
That's a viking saying. Could substitute woman for the second man. What did the vikings know?!
Sober and straight, last night as I was getting ready for sleep, Mathew Parry was on the telly. He does a show about indigenous people and this week he was in the Himalayas. I had to watch it because he was talking about the Second Noble Truth. He said suffering was caused by desire, so on this trip he was going to try and not desire anything. He was better later on, but I wasn't too happy with that.
Suffering is caused by desire based on ignorance of your own true self.
Or, suffering is caused by actions and delusions based on ignorance of your own true self.
Assumedly, if you realised your own true self, you might desire the right things.
I wrote The Buddha and the Big Bad Wolf so I could figure that stuff out.
I had a dream. I was in my previous job at the Royal High, probably a much better place to work than where I am just now. Anyway, as usual I got lost and found myself out in the city.
It's common for me to be lost in dreams, but it's usually somewhere like Freetown in Sierra Leone, everyone armed to the teeth and ill disposed. This time the town was almost heavenly in comparison. It was like a cross between Durbar Square in Kathmandu and Holy Corner in Bruntsfield. I was still in Edinburgh, but the place was full of pedestrian precincts and stupas and gothic churches; a very nice place to be. But I was lost and trying to find my way back to the Royal High.
This woman appeared. She looked like the wee blond one out of Sex and the City, though I never watched that show. She was wearing a nice raincoat like the kind private detectives wear, except neater, more expensive and more enveloping. (When it comes to female attractiveness, for me the darker the better). Anyway, she was very nice and came along with me to try to help me find my way back to the Royal High. We snogged against a wall at one point which was very nice.
I think I appeared a bit younger in this dream. Sometimes when I go out binge drinking with Brian Wilson I feel like he's my dad since he has barely a grey hair left on his head. And when he takes his false teeth out and puts them on the bar, and then pulls his bottom lip up over his nose, well ... Anyway, I suspected that this woman didn't realise I'm really dead old.
After walking around the heavenly city for a while and not finding a way out, the atmosphere between me and the wee blond woman became a bit steamier. But when it came to penetration, it turned out she was an orifice short. Nice woman but a bit of a disappointment in the end.
And what happens when you want the wrong things, Hotboy? Or want the right things in the wrong way? Well, Jack ... grief, sorrow, lamentations ... suffering in this life! And wasn't it always thus.
I might write something about how ra bliss is exponentially expanding in its wonderfulness later on just to wind up the flatheids!
posted
Thursday, 20 September 2007
Ra Jailhouse Now!
Thursday 4:30 p.m.
Bought the Times today before going to Bellshill. So there's this article about Cherie Blair's memoirs and how they're going to Little Brown. An Ursula Mackenzie, it seems, it now the "chief executive and publisher" of Little Brown. What? I had a literary agent when I was twenty eight and with this wonderful, wonderful person (!) I conspired to write Bomber. She said write a political thriller, have a read at Scotch on the Rocks by Douglas Hurd (a truly awful book!). So I went and wrote Bomber. And now she's in charge of Little Brown. I contacted that man of great taste and perspicacity, Adrian Weston, about this and he's going to hustle her. Here come the Special Branch!
I drank some cough mixture to help me sleep on the overnight train to London and there was not a soul in the carriage except me, and that was creepy. She bought me lunch. She said the Guinness was free. I had five pints, or six. As we were parting on the pavement, she said: "You Scotsmen can really show us how to drink!" I offered her a wee bit of paki black to take away. I was chaining smoking one skinners there and back. She said no thanks. That's what we should tell our children. Just say no. Just say no and you end up running the world. Say yes and you end up with twenty quid to do you till pay day!
The clock on the platform today at Bellshill station said it was four o clock. It was two o clock. The school teachers have taken over the world! We listened to side three of the Dhammapada CD. Ra bliss went body-less for a bit. What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
10:30 p.m.
Got an email from Adrian Weston saying that Ursula Mackenzie told him to send the book in. If they don't want it, that's okay. Getting someone to read it is the hard bit!
I haven't had a drink or any cannybliss yogurt for five days. I'm glad I didn't buy The Scotsman this morning!
Bought the Times today before going to Bellshill. So there's this article about Cherie Blair's memoirs and how they're going to Little Brown. An Ursula Mackenzie, it seems, it now the "chief executive and publisher" of Little Brown. What? I had a literary agent when I was twenty eight and with this wonderful, wonderful person (!) I conspired to write Bomber. She said write a political thriller, have a read at Scotch on the Rocks by Douglas Hurd (a truly awful book!). So I went and wrote Bomber. And now she's in charge of Little Brown. I contacted that man of great taste and perspicacity, Adrian Weston, about this and he's going to hustle her. Here come the Special Branch!
I drank some cough mixture to help me sleep on the overnight train to London and there was not a soul in the carriage except me, and that was creepy. She bought me lunch. She said the Guinness was free. I had five pints, or six. As we were parting on the pavement, she said: "You Scotsmen can really show us how to drink!" I offered her a wee bit of paki black to take away. I was chaining smoking one skinners there and back. She said no thanks. That's what we should tell our children. Just say no. Just say no and you end up running the world. Say yes and you end up with twenty quid to do you till pay day!
The clock on the platform today at Bellshill station said it was four o clock. It was two o clock. The school teachers have taken over the world! We listened to side three of the Dhammapada CD. Ra bliss went body-less for a bit. What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
10:30 p.m.
Got an email from Adrian Weston saying that Ursula Mackenzie told him to send the book in. If they don't want it, that's okay. Getting someone to read it is the hard bit!
I haven't had a drink or any cannybliss yogurt for five days. I'm glad I didn't buy The Scotsman this morning!
Wednesday, 19 September 2007
Ra Bomber
Wednesday 5:14 p.m.
What a beautiful sunny day! I was going to work overtime today since my working week only started yesterday, but desisted due to bone laziness and because it was such a sunny day. Just back from the allotment where the raspberries were delicious and I ate a strawberry. I didn't know strawberries ripened this late on. Yum. The meditations seem to be moving on a stage. I'm less bothered about emanating as a deity just now and content to relax into the fabulous tranquil bliss. It progresses and progresses. What a fortunate creature I am!
I had to search my pile of dusty old manuscripts to find the first page of a play I wrote once called Busted. Funny play. Anyway, as I was searching I came upon a letter I got once from Stuart Christie, who ran the Cienfuegos Press from a remote island off Orkney or Shetland a couple of decades ago. He was quite a famous anarchist, having spent a lot of time in a Spanish jail for taking dynamite to blow up Franco. Then he did some time on remand for the Angry Brigade bombings, but I think the charges were dropped. I assumed he was on a remote island up north because of the hassles with police surveillance. I wonder where he is now.
When I was writing Bomber originally I had to find out how to make a bomb, so I searched the newspapers for stories about the Angry Brigade and got the local library to get me a copy of the Anarchist Cookbook. Stuart Christie later brought out a Scottish version, called Towards a People's Militia, I think. Anyway, I knew I wasn't going to get Bomber published, so I sent him a copy to see what he thought of it.
He made some helpful comments about the role of the Special Branch as provocateurs. In fact, he said he read the book in a oner and was much amused when the name of the gelignite he almost got bust with cropped up. If you want to know how to blow yourself up, you could find out by reading Bomber.
A twenty one year old student got found guilty yesterday of "three terrorist offences, including circulating bomb-making guides and other terrorist materials." (The Scotsman)He'd put them on the internet. He told folk he wanted to be a suicide bomber. No bombs, no guns, no bugger all. A thought crime. We have thought crimes in this country now.
Please tell the polis all about me so I can go to jail. I wanted to blow up Maggie Thatcher, but only in my imagination. Surely, I could get ten years in solitary for that.
I was speaking to two moslem kids today. They were both doing Ramadan. The twelve year old said he was bothered by the thirst and the sixteen year old said it was the hunger that bothered him the most. He lost seven pounds doing Ramadan last year. He gets up at four in the morning to pray. I've got a lot of respect for that. Allah Akbar. Shame about the jihadi nutters of course.
I'm off to the lobby now. What bliss there will be! Pax vobiscum.
What a beautiful sunny day! I was going to work overtime today since my working week only started yesterday, but desisted due to bone laziness and because it was such a sunny day. Just back from the allotment where the raspberries were delicious and I ate a strawberry. I didn't know strawberries ripened this late on. Yum. The meditations seem to be moving on a stage. I'm less bothered about emanating as a deity just now and content to relax into the fabulous tranquil bliss. It progresses and progresses. What a fortunate creature I am!
I had to search my pile of dusty old manuscripts to find the first page of a play I wrote once called Busted. Funny play. Anyway, as I was searching I came upon a letter I got once from Stuart Christie, who ran the Cienfuegos Press from a remote island off Orkney or Shetland a couple of decades ago. He was quite a famous anarchist, having spent a lot of time in a Spanish jail for taking dynamite to blow up Franco. Then he did some time on remand for the Angry Brigade bombings, but I think the charges were dropped. I assumed he was on a remote island up north because of the hassles with police surveillance. I wonder where he is now.
When I was writing Bomber originally I had to find out how to make a bomb, so I searched the newspapers for stories about the Angry Brigade and got the local library to get me a copy of the Anarchist Cookbook. Stuart Christie later brought out a Scottish version, called Towards a People's Militia, I think. Anyway, I knew I wasn't going to get Bomber published, so I sent him a copy to see what he thought of it.
He made some helpful comments about the role of the Special Branch as provocateurs. In fact, he said he read the book in a oner and was much amused when the name of the gelignite he almost got bust with cropped up. If you want to know how to blow yourself up, you could find out by reading Bomber.
A twenty one year old student got found guilty yesterday of "three terrorist offences, including circulating bomb-making guides and other terrorist materials." (The Scotsman)He'd put them on the internet. He told folk he wanted to be a suicide bomber. No bombs, no guns, no bugger all. A thought crime. We have thought crimes in this country now.
Please tell the polis all about me so I can go to jail. I wanted to blow up Maggie Thatcher, but only in my imagination. Surely, I could get ten years in solitary for that.
I was speaking to two moslem kids today. They were both doing Ramadan. The twelve year old said he was bothered by the thirst and the sixteen year old said it was the hunger that bothered him the most. He lost seven pounds doing Ramadan last year. He gets up at four in the morning to pray. I've got a lot of respect for that. Allah Akbar. Shame about the jihadi nutters of course.
I'm off to the lobby now. What bliss there will be! Pax vobiscum.
Tuesday, 18 September 2007
Ra Bliss!
Tuesday 7:40 p.m.
What can you say about ra bliss? I just thought I should record this development in ra bliss. I've just finished sitting in the lobby, eyes closed, sumptuous blissiness. Not all the time and not every time, but it just seems at times to get better and better and more amazing. And you can't buy it, you can't steal it, and you can't get it unless you spend a lot of time looking for it. But what a shame about the flatheids, Jack! It's just a bloody shame, so it is. Missed the whole point of being a human being. Funnily enough, it's just gone dark here in chilly Jockoland. And the surf's up, Jack. Boy, is the surf up!!
What can you say about ra bliss? I just thought I should record this development in ra bliss. I've just finished sitting in the lobby, eyes closed, sumptuous blissiness. Not all the time and not every time, but it just seems at times to get better and better and more amazing. And you can't buy it, you can't steal it, and you can't get it unless you spend a lot of time looking for it. But what a shame about the flatheids, Jack! It's just a bloody shame, so it is. Missed the whole point of being a human being. Funnily enough, it's just gone dark here in chilly Jockoland. And the surf's up, Jack. Boy, is the surf up!!
Monday, 17 September 2007
Ra God Slot 2!
Monday 9:40 p.m.
I think that absolutes are things that don't change. This is one of my problems with God. If everything is changing, interdependent and essentially empty, then where does an absolute come in? I took me a while to get my head round everything changing, but then I started reading buddhisty stuff about absolutes as well; kind of sneaking them in by the back door. I've read that the Dharmakaya is an absolute. Well, if it doesn't change, it's not in relation with anything, so what bloody use is it? Even as an idea.
Is the number zero an absolute? It's an idea that doesn't change since it represents nothing.
I think in Hinduism you have god, or Brahmin. This is also in F. Able. After that, you get vibration (like OM), and then you get consciousness and energy and everything follows from that.
Absolute zero temprature is about -273 degrees, I think. Maybe at this temprature there's no energy and none of the molecules or whatever vibrate. (Does anyone know if this is the right theory?) I was wondering today if this is what the end of the universe would be like. You get nothing but a lot of old photons and they get colder and colder until .... nothing is moving, vibrating or whatever.
I asked some folk with a more scientific background if anyone had ever produced absolute zero temprature, but I think they said it was inferred from the lines on the graph though no one had actually gotten anything that cold. I wonder if this is true.
The last few days have been less good than I'd hoped. This is mainly due to the evenings being taken up by flatheids. I really like meditating as it's getting dark and after that. Tonight I was able to do that and it was pretty wonderful. I'll do some when I finish this.
I've got £20 left until my overdraft limit is topped up at the end of the month. This is good since it should help keep me on the straight and narrow. As long as the flatheids keep away and I don't fall into any off-licenses, it would be bliss, bliss, bliss all the way from here on in!
I think that absolutes are things that don't change. This is one of my problems with God. If everything is changing, interdependent and essentially empty, then where does an absolute come in? I took me a while to get my head round everything changing, but then I started reading buddhisty stuff about absolutes as well; kind of sneaking them in by the back door. I've read that the Dharmakaya is an absolute. Well, if it doesn't change, it's not in relation with anything, so what bloody use is it? Even as an idea.
Is the number zero an absolute? It's an idea that doesn't change since it represents nothing.
I think in Hinduism you have god, or Brahmin. This is also in F. Able. After that, you get vibration (like OM), and then you get consciousness and energy and everything follows from that.
Absolute zero temprature is about -273 degrees, I think. Maybe at this temprature there's no energy and none of the molecules or whatever vibrate. (Does anyone know if this is the right theory?) I was wondering today if this is what the end of the universe would be like. You get nothing but a lot of old photons and they get colder and colder until .... nothing is moving, vibrating or whatever.
I asked some folk with a more scientific background if anyone had ever produced absolute zero temprature, but I think they said it was inferred from the lines on the graph though no one had actually gotten anything that cold. I wonder if this is true.
The last few days have been less good than I'd hoped. This is mainly due to the evenings being taken up by flatheids. I really like meditating as it's getting dark and after that. Tonight I was able to do that and it was pretty wonderful. I'll do some when I finish this.
I've got £20 left until my overdraft limit is topped up at the end of the month. This is good since it should help keep me on the straight and narrow. As long as the flatheids keep away and I don't fall into any off-licenses, it would be bliss, bliss, bliss all the way from here on in!
Friday, 14 September 2007
Ra God Slot!
Friday 10:24 p.m.
The previous post was posted on RaBlissBlog. So I copied it and pasted it. I miss the last blog. Better name for one thing! I'll go back to it when the coast is clear.
"All you can say about God is not true." Meister Eckhart. The wall.
So what's all this about God then, Hotboy? I thought we didn't believe in any things, especially thoughts. Well, Jack, if I'm trying to re-write a book where the joe is basically searching for God, it would be handy to have a view.
If God's ineffable, beyond concepts, etc., there might be no point in going on about it. He/She/It certainly didn't speak Scottish so there's maybe not much you can do there with words really.
I don't think Buddhism talks about God at all. Talks about mind though, and consciousness. I reckon the buddha was with Eckhart on this one. So what is "clear light mind" and what is buddha nature? Everything has a buddha nature. Mind is like space except with the capacity to know. Hmmm? Maybe it is aware. Maybe it is just aware of being aware without having anything really to be aware of.
I could do with some help here, Jack! A bit of a debate. What do the Masai Warriors and the Creatures from Outer Space think of this god stuff?
There aren't any good descriptors for God or mind. They share this in common. The Big Mind has no characteristics ....
Sorry, we're no doing God In Heaven here, with the cherabim and the glorified bodies wandering around the place feeling fabuloso. I'm not saying it's not there. I'm not saying it is there. At least, it's there as an idea. I will get back to God In Heaven sometime.
This is god without the beard and the nightdress.
The difference between the buddha's Mind and God might be that the buddhists don't have God as a creator. Well, they don't have god at all. There's nobody waiting to punish you for fiddling around with your naughty bits.
However, it might be that Patanjali did the yoga sutras as a reaction to buddhism, in that he thought it was possible to experience God. I think I read this somewhere. One hopes that these joes are basically talking about the same thing, but using different words. Shiva reminded me that Patanjali thought the individual soul and God were separate. I might have heard that yoga was basically dualistic in this regard. I hope this is not true. Does anyone know about this?
So say Patanjali thought you could experience God by doing his eight limbs of yoga.
The one I've had difficulty with is pratyhara, withdrawal of the senses.
I think ecstasy may be necessary as a descriptor here because in this state ra bliss might have blown your arms and legs off, and you don't have a sense of a body anymore. Is that what withdrawal of the senses means? But it didn't seem as if anything was being withdrawn, more like blown out. Or puffed out.
There's something called dhyanas. These might be linked to stages in meditational advancements. This is back to stilling the mind and concentration. But it's not really concentration with the knitted brows, etc.
Anyway, the joe or josephine is sitting in the cave and what they're doing is unpeeling the onion. You get ra bliss. You get ra ecstasy. You've lost your arms and legs. You might have moved ... beyond meaningful concepts.
I have to say something about Original Sin here. The more you peel the onion, the more of ra bliss you experience (at least, so far). If you were going towards God, god is beneficent. Ra bliss is ra bliss is ra bliss. You want to blame god because you are too dumb to meditate? You're just a lazy stupid basturn if you don't meditate. It looks to me that you don't need a saviour. What you need is good kick up the arse!
Back to the cave. You're going down, down, down and the concepts, the combinations making up thoughts become less frequent. You stop breathing. You are in ecstasy. Is this knowing God?
I would have to say this is more like knowing what you are. This isn't God. This is us. We can do this. It has been done.
So far, I imagine that this god being ineffable stuff is from joes and josephines who've done ra bliss until they had probably transcended ra bliss. Anyway, you cannot describe even the creepy uppy thing to flatheids; the envelope, the thing that expands ... so how could you describe ra ecstasy when they cannot even imagine ra bliss?
The next post may be about absolutes, things that don't change. Is God an absolute? We'll have to get down and dirty with thoughts here. About god and absolutes and things that don't change, mental objects .. and what could possibly be not a mental object? If it doesn't exist in your mind, where could it exist?
The previous post was posted on RaBlissBlog. So I copied it and pasted it. I miss the last blog. Better name for one thing! I'll go back to it when the coast is clear.
"All you can say about God is not true." Meister Eckhart. The wall.
So what's all this about God then, Hotboy? I thought we didn't believe in any things, especially thoughts. Well, Jack, if I'm trying to re-write a book where the joe is basically searching for God, it would be handy to have a view.
If God's ineffable, beyond concepts, etc., there might be no point in going on about it. He/She/It certainly didn't speak Scottish so there's maybe not much you can do there with words really.
I don't think Buddhism talks about God at all. Talks about mind though, and consciousness. I reckon the buddha was with Eckhart on this one. So what is "clear light mind" and what is buddha nature? Everything has a buddha nature. Mind is like space except with the capacity to know. Hmmm? Maybe it is aware. Maybe it is just aware of being aware without having anything really to be aware of.
I could do with some help here, Jack! A bit of a debate. What do the Masai Warriors and the Creatures from Outer Space think of this god stuff?
There aren't any good descriptors for God or mind. They share this in common. The Big Mind has no characteristics ....
Sorry, we're no doing God In Heaven here, with the cherabim and the glorified bodies wandering around the place feeling fabuloso. I'm not saying it's not there. I'm not saying it is there. At least, it's there as an idea. I will get back to God In Heaven sometime.
This is god without the beard and the nightdress.
The difference between the buddha's Mind and God might be that the buddhists don't have God as a creator. Well, they don't have god at all. There's nobody waiting to punish you for fiddling around with your naughty bits.
However, it might be that Patanjali did the yoga sutras as a reaction to buddhism, in that he thought it was possible to experience God. I think I read this somewhere. One hopes that these joes are basically talking about the same thing, but using different words. Shiva reminded me that Patanjali thought the individual soul and God were separate. I might have heard that yoga was basically dualistic in this regard. I hope this is not true. Does anyone know about this?
So say Patanjali thought you could experience God by doing his eight limbs of yoga.
The one I've had difficulty with is pratyhara, withdrawal of the senses.
I think ecstasy may be necessary as a descriptor here because in this state ra bliss might have blown your arms and legs off, and you don't have a sense of a body anymore. Is that what withdrawal of the senses means? But it didn't seem as if anything was being withdrawn, more like blown out. Or puffed out.
There's something called dhyanas. These might be linked to stages in meditational advancements. This is back to stilling the mind and concentration. But it's not really concentration with the knitted brows, etc.
Anyway, the joe or josephine is sitting in the cave and what they're doing is unpeeling the onion. You get ra bliss. You get ra ecstasy. You've lost your arms and legs. You might have moved ... beyond meaningful concepts.
I have to say something about Original Sin here. The more you peel the onion, the more of ra bliss you experience (at least, so far). If you were going towards God, god is beneficent. Ra bliss is ra bliss is ra bliss. You want to blame god because you are too dumb to meditate? You're just a lazy stupid basturn if you don't meditate. It looks to me that you don't need a saviour. What you need is good kick up the arse!
Back to the cave. You're going down, down, down and the concepts, the combinations making up thoughts become less frequent. You stop breathing. You are in ecstasy. Is this knowing God?
I would have to say this is more like knowing what you are. This isn't God. This is us. We can do this. It has been done.
So far, I imagine that this god being ineffable stuff is from joes and josephines who've done ra bliss until they had probably transcended ra bliss. Anyway, you cannot describe even the creepy uppy thing to flatheids; the envelope, the thing that expands ... so how could you describe ra ecstasy when they cannot even imagine ra bliss?
The next post may be about absolutes, things that don't change. Is God an absolute? We'll have to get down and dirty with thoughts here. About god and absolutes and things that don't change, mental objects .. and what could possibly be not a mental object? If it doesn't exist in your mind, where could it exist?
Ra Safe Haven!
Thursday 8:30 p.m.
So there's no creator. Or Creator.
I think it's spelt creater, Hotboy. Is there a creater then, Jack? No, there's a grater and a creator, but no creater. That's it for the metaphysics then.
If there's no creator, then there's no first cause. In the sequences of cause and effect ... no creator and no first cause.
That's St Thomas Aquinas seen off then. No proofs of a creator will be accepted. We're just denying what seems bleeding obvious, that there has to be a first cause.
As Poisonous said once: The answer to what was the first cause is that you don't know. Calling you don't know God is just stupid.
He didn't say that, Jack. That was moi! But you get the gist.
So God might be beyond concepts, or there isn't any concept that would fit. It's in F. Able.
This is because of the joes and josephines who sat in the caves. If you are a josephine, it's much warmer since you get to sit on the joe's lotus wound lap, while he's freezing is bum off on the cave floor. Wasn't it always thus?! These blooming feminists! (Grumpy old man mode!) I'd like someone to look after moi, please. I don't mind swearing allegiance and becoming a vassal as long as I get looked after. But give me some inches of warm flesh between me and the floor. Hmmmm? That's much better.
So as you continue to sit... you get through ra bliss, get into ra ecstasy, eventually levitate due to ra pranayamic effects and whatnot .. and you lose the false sense of self, and you walk around in ra wonderments of heavenly visions on this sweet earth ...
Do you think I should keep the euphoria in check, Jack? No, Hotboy! The spam robots love ra bliss. We have a good laugh at the sufferings of the flatheids because they are immersed in ra bliss, but do not know it because they are too dumb to meditate.
So if we have no creator and no first cause, we must move off from time, meaning change. Hmmm?
The Amazing Bloggy Church of Ra Bad Boy Blissheid invites speculation whilst exhileratingly singing the company song: Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss, etcetera!
So there's no creator. Or Creator.
I think it's spelt creater, Hotboy. Is there a creater then, Jack? No, there's a grater and a creator, but no creater. That's it for the metaphysics then.
If there's no creator, then there's no first cause. In the sequences of cause and effect ... no creator and no first cause.
That's St Thomas Aquinas seen off then. No proofs of a creator will be accepted. We're just denying what seems bleeding obvious, that there has to be a first cause.
As Poisonous said once: The answer to what was the first cause is that you don't know. Calling you don't know God is just stupid.
He didn't say that, Jack. That was moi! But you get the gist.
So God might be beyond concepts, or there isn't any concept that would fit. It's in F. Able.
This is because of the joes and josephines who sat in the caves. If you are a josephine, it's much warmer since you get to sit on the joe's lotus wound lap, while he's freezing is bum off on the cave floor. Wasn't it always thus?! These blooming feminists! (Grumpy old man mode!) I'd like someone to look after moi, please. I don't mind swearing allegiance and becoming a vassal as long as I get looked after. But give me some inches of warm flesh between me and the floor. Hmmmm? That's much better.
So as you continue to sit... you get through ra bliss, get into ra ecstasy, eventually levitate due to ra pranayamic effects and whatnot .. and you lose the false sense of self, and you walk around in ra wonderments of heavenly visions on this sweet earth ...
Do you think I should keep the euphoria in check, Jack? No, Hotboy! The spam robots love ra bliss. We have a good laugh at the sufferings of the flatheids because they are immersed in ra bliss, but do not know it because they are too dumb to meditate.
So if we have no creator and no first cause, we must move off from time, meaning change. Hmmm?
The Amazing Bloggy Church of Ra Bad Boy Blissheid invites speculation whilst exhileratingly singing the company song: Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss, etcetera!
Thursday, 13 September 2007
Ra Day After!
Thursday 2:35 p.m.
Oh, to be a Scottish football fan last night when James McFadden scored the wonder goal against the French! So where's your Napoleon Bonaparte and your Edith Piaf the noo, eh? Just every now and again it is great to be Scottish, so it is!
Got pissed of course! Not that it seems to matter anymore. As soon as I started meditating at half eleven this morning, I realised that this is going to be one helluva weekend for ra bliss and ra heat and maybe even a little touch of ecstasy will manifest! Who knows? Who can tell what comes next? Whatever you're thinking as you walk around flatheided doesn't really count, even if you are dead crabbit. Once you start to meditate you know it's just going to be bloody wonderful. Who cares if I can't really share this with the flatheids? Well, I do a wee bit, but this is one HotboyMadyamika who is going to surf the oceans of bliss anyway! And I don't have to go back to the jobbie till Tuesday. It's really good to be me right now!
I was thinking I might be able to rattle through this re-write of The Real McCoy and have it finished by next summer. Then I remembered that writing doesn't look as if it will save me from gainful employment and I will write the book just for the sake of it. It could take me three years. That doesn't matter. It won't get published. That doesn't matter either. As long as I enjoy doing it.
Oh, to be a Scottish football fan last night when James McFadden scored the wonder goal against the French! So where's your Napoleon Bonaparte and your Edith Piaf the noo, eh? Just every now and again it is great to be Scottish, so it is!
Got pissed of course! Not that it seems to matter anymore. As soon as I started meditating at half eleven this morning, I realised that this is going to be one helluva weekend for ra bliss and ra heat and maybe even a little touch of ecstasy will manifest! Who knows? Who can tell what comes next? Whatever you're thinking as you walk around flatheided doesn't really count, even if you are dead crabbit. Once you start to meditate you know it's just going to be bloody wonderful. Who cares if I can't really share this with the flatheids? Well, I do a wee bit, but this is one HotboyMadyamika who is going to surf the oceans of bliss anyway! And I don't have to go back to the jobbie till Tuesday. It's really good to be me right now!
I was thinking I might be able to rattle through this re-write of The Real McCoy and have it finished by next summer. Then I remembered that writing doesn't look as if it will save me from gainful employment and I will write the book just for the sake of it. It could take me three years. That doesn't matter. It won't get published. That doesn't matter either. As long as I enjoy doing it.
Wednesday, 12 September 2007
Rese Happy Days!
Wednesday 5:50 p.m.
The raspberries that come in September hang ripening and the ground is very dry for this time of the year. An indian summer. Next Monday is a bank holiday, so I have five full days away from the jobbie before I have to return. What a fortunate creature I am!
The Domestic Bliss has just come in so that's the end of that!
The raspberries that come in September hang ripening and the ground is very dry for this time of the year. An indian summer. Next Monday is a bank holiday, so I have five full days away from the jobbie before I have to return. What a fortunate creature I am!
The Domestic Bliss has just come in so that's the end of that!
Sunday, 9 September 2007
Ra Green Shoots!
Sunday 9:35 p.m.
After meditating for about five hours today, I took a wee break and went to see Shiva. I'm feeling really happy to be re-writing The Real McCoy now. It's all to do with the boy's search for God, so I thought I'd go and ask Shiva what all this God stuff was about. Being a hindu god himself, of course, he was a big help. He said god was in F. Able. Who the fung is F. Able? I wondered if that might be something to do with Cain and Able, but I was too polite to ask.
A couple of hours after getting back, I fell into a complete gorgeousness of ra bliss. So wonderful and so re-assuring!
Was it ecstasy, Jack? You tell me, Hotboy. Were you still breathing? I think I must have been. Well, just wait!
This dose of ra bliss made me feel very happy. It made me think that everything was going to be alright.
Then I got up and donned the full Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle and felt so surprisingly fit when I was doing the shadow boxing. When you're feeling surprisingly fit, really hard training sessions are just the bees knees. And I loved doing it. What an evening of re-affirmation!
Everyone should meditate, so they should. Coz there's nothing like ra bliss! Oh, there's nothing like ra bliss! EE Aye Adio, there's nothing like ra bliss!
After meditating for about five hours today, I took a wee break and went to see Shiva. I'm feeling really happy to be re-writing The Real McCoy now. It's all to do with the boy's search for God, so I thought I'd go and ask Shiva what all this God stuff was about. Being a hindu god himself, of course, he was a big help. He said god was in F. Able. Who the fung is F. Able? I wondered if that might be something to do with Cain and Able, but I was too polite to ask.
A couple of hours after getting back, I fell into a complete gorgeousness of ra bliss. So wonderful and so re-assuring!
Was it ecstasy, Jack? You tell me, Hotboy. Were you still breathing? I think I must have been. Well, just wait!
This dose of ra bliss made me feel very happy. It made me think that everything was going to be alright.
Then I got up and donned the full Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle and felt so surprisingly fit when I was doing the shadow boxing. When you're feeling surprisingly fit, really hard training sessions are just the bees knees. And I loved doing it. What an evening of re-affirmation!
Everyone should meditate, so they should. Coz there's nothing like ra bliss! Oh, there's nothing like ra bliss! EE Aye Adio, there's nothing like ra bliss!
Friday, 7 September 2007
Ra Emptiness Two!
Friday 3:45p.m.
More from the Readings on the Six Yogas of Naropa by Glenn Mullin. This bit is from Milarepa:
For those of weaker minds the omniscient Buddha taught,
To accord with the predispositions of those to be trained,
That objects of knowledge have real existence;
But from the perspective of higher truth, nothing
From a hindering spirit to a buddha has real existence.
There are no meditators, no objects of meditation,
No spiritual progress, no path with signs,
No resultant kayas, no wisdom,
And therefore no nirvana.
Soley by means of names and mental labels
The stable and moving elements of the three worlds
Are established; in reality from the very beginning
They are unproduced, uncreated, baseless, and innately unborn.
There is no karma nor ripening effects of actions,
And therefore even the name "samsara" does not exist.
This is the sense of the final truth.
I started the re-write of The Real McCoy yesterday and afterwards felt happy for a while. Strange feeling. I remember feeling a lot like that a week ago. The frame you think in is conditioned by so many things, some of them completely outwith your control, it seems. Like, people you know killing themselves. Then there's the hangovers, the food you eat, how tired you feel, the flatheids you hang around with, etc., etc. Thank god that at the end of the day it's all a lot of emptiness!!!
I was meditating in the hut this morning from half nine till I heard the one o clock gun. After lunch, the meditations went superbly. Down at Brian Wilson's tonight the only person who meditates in the room will be moi. I'll have to listen to the flatheid view of reality all evening, but I think I might just give up and get pissed. I'll pretend its a wake. Wakes are better than parties. You never see people being fed up at wakes!
More from the Readings on the Six Yogas of Naropa by Glenn Mullin. This bit is from Milarepa:
For those of weaker minds the omniscient Buddha taught,
To accord with the predispositions of those to be trained,
That objects of knowledge have real existence;
But from the perspective of higher truth, nothing
From a hindering spirit to a buddha has real existence.
There are no meditators, no objects of meditation,
No spiritual progress, no path with signs,
No resultant kayas, no wisdom,
And therefore no nirvana.
Soley by means of names and mental labels
The stable and moving elements of the three worlds
Are established; in reality from the very beginning
They are unproduced, uncreated, baseless, and innately unborn.
There is no karma nor ripening effects of actions,
And therefore even the name "samsara" does not exist.
This is the sense of the final truth.
I started the re-write of The Real McCoy yesterday and afterwards felt happy for a while. Strange feeling. I remember feeling a lot like that a week ago. The frame you think in is conditioned by so many things, some of them completely outwith your control, it seems. Like, people you know killing themselves. Then there's the hangovers, the food you eat, how tired you feel, the flatheids you hang around with, etc., etc. Thank god that at the end of the day it's all a lot of emptiness!!!
I was meditating in the hut this morning from half nine till I heard the one o clock gun. After lunch, the meditations went superbly. Down at Brian Wilson's tonight the only person who meditates in the room will be moi. I'll have to listen to the flatheid view of reality all evening, but I think I might just give up and get pissed. I'll pretend its a wake. Wakes are better than parties. You never see people being fed up at wakes!
Wednesday, 5 September 2007
Remptiness!
Wednesday 5:45 p.m.
After a hellish start to the week, today I went up to the hut. How nice to be able to get away and sit there investigating the developments in ra bliss!
Here's something from the Readings on the Six Yogas of Naropa. I'd write it on my wall, but it's a bit long. The first bit's from Nagajuna's Sixty Stanzas on Emptiness.
All the various objects of experience
Are like the moon's reflection in water;
Neither really true nor really false.
Those appreciating this do not lose the view.
Tsongkhapa then states,
One should understand the emptiness doctrine in the context of this simile. The wise perceive that all things - persons and phenomena - arise in reliance upon their own causes and conditions, and that based on this process we impute mental labels upon things. The phenomena themselves have no true or inherent existence from their own side. They have no self-nature whatsoever.
Hmmm? It certainly doesn't look like that. Understanding emptiness isn't hard. That's not the point. It's dead obvious when you think about it, but you've got to realise it. I think I should be trying to combine ra bliss with emptiness and concern myself less about emanating as a deity. What would take longer? Hmmm? You can, of course, blend emptiness with ra bliss while emanating as a deity. Way to go, Hotboy! Way to go!
I have to go to a memorial event on Friday evening, so I might try to go to Bellshill tomorrow. I don't want to lose a whole day to flatheided things. I lost most of last weekend and ra bliss was still stronger today than it was last week. I think this is due to being on the path. Forward! Forward! All my plans are simple!
After a hellish start to the week, today I went up to the hut. How nice to be able to get away and sit there investigating the developments in ra bliss!
Here's something from the Readings on the Six Yogas of Naropa. I'd write it on my wall, but it's a bit long. The first bit's from Nagajuna's Sixty Stanzas on Emptiness.
All the various objects of experience
Are like the moon's reflection in water;
Neither really true nor really false.
Those appreciating this do not lose the view.
Tsongkhapa then states,
One should understand the emptiness doctrine in the context of this simile. The wise perceive that all things - persons and phenomena - arise in reliance upon their own causes and conditions, and that based on this process we impute mental labels upon things. The phenomena themselves have no true or inherent existence from their own side. They have no self-nature whatsoever.
Hmmm? It certainly doesn't look like that. Understanding emptiness isn't hard. That's not the point. It's dead obvious when you think about it, but you've got to realise it. I think I should be trying to combine ra bliss with emptiness and concern myself less about emanating as a deity. What would take longer? Hmmm? You can, of course, blend emptiness with ra bliss while emanating as a deity. Way to go, Hotboy! Way to go!
I have to go to a memorial event on Friday evening, so I might try to go to Bellshill tomorrow. I don't want to lose a whole day to flatheided things. I lost most of last weekend and ra bliss was still stronger today than it was last week. I think this is due to being on the path. Forward! Forward! All my plans are simple!
Sunday, 2 September 2007
Ra Big Jambo!
Sunday 11:40 p.m.
My best memory of the Big Jambo was when we went to the pub in Portree to see the first football game of the season, Hearts versus Rangers. The pub was down by the harbour and it's probably painted blue. The barmen were wearing Rangers shirts. About four or five of the punters were wearing Rangers shirts. The pub was as orange as the Boyne and this did not make me feel comfortable at all. So we sat down at a table and were soon surrounded by all these huns. This is definitely not a good time to start singing Faith of Our Fathers Living Still, but I think it's going to be alright because Hearts were almost bound to get a doing.
When Hearts scored the first goal, the Big Jambo runs out of his seat and is jumping up and down in the middle of the floor, shouting, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" with the clenched fists and all. The rest was stony silence. Fortunately, he was a big lad and I was most apologetic to the appallled huns sitting beside me. I think Hearts won two nil.
He'd been staying in Louisianna for the last few years. I heard yesterday that he'd killed himself on Thursday. You can buy a gun quite easily in Lousianna, I think. I couldn't say enough good things about the guy.
If you were a Tibetan buddhist, the interval between death and rebirth doesn't last longer than forty nine days, so you could meditate for someone over this time. I'll start doing that then.
My best memory of the Big Jambo was when we went to the pub in Portree to see the first football game of the season, Hearts versus Rangers. The pub was down by the harbour and it's probably painted blue. The barmen were wearing Rangers shirts. About four or five of the punters were wearing Rangers shirts. The pub was as orange as the Boyne and this did not make me feel comfortable at all. So we sat down at a table and were soon surrounded by all these huns. This is definitely not a good time to start singing Faith of Our Fathers Living Still, but I think it's going to be alright because Hearts were almost bound to get a doing.
When Hearts scored the first goal, the Big Jambo runs out of his seat and is jumping up and down in the middle of the floor, shouting, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" with the clenched fists and all. The rest was stony silence. Fortunately, he was a big lad and I was most apologetic to the appallled huns sitting beside me. I think Hearts won two nil.
He'd been staying in Louisianna for the last few years. I heard yesterday that he'd killed himself on Thursday. You can buy a gun quite easily in Lousianna, I think. I couldn't say enough good things about the guy.
If you were a Tibetan buddhist, the interval between death and rebirth doesn't last longer than forty nine days, so you could meditate for someone over this time. I'll start doing that then.
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