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!
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9 comments:
I've heard of people who give their willy a name, but what made you choose Joy?
What does this mean: I had almost the same dream the same night, also blonde (Mary Hopkin) and also a bit of a disappointment in the rear end.
I like the way this blog is developing. Most encouraging.
PS Tony O'Boyle says the guy he went to see Led Zep with said "I'm no a p**f but Robert Pant is dead sexy"
Albert? Is that you? I think you might be trying to get out of the closet again. "Robert Pant": Is this a freudian slip? Or typo? Let's all sing: I hate Albert Einstein, he's a prof, he's a prof!Hotboy p.s. You dream means you're worried about getting old. If I was as flatheided as you, so would I! You don't need to worry if you can't count all the hairs on your head yet.
Without mentioning names, I was trying tactfully to help you out of the closet, but some people are beyond help.
Albert? Thank God I'm far too old for all that hanky panky stuff. It's the brahmancharya for moi! (That might not be spelt right! It means Ah'm no doin' it!) Hotboy
Don't just take my word for it, ask your agent what coming out would do for the book sales. That's where you've been going wrong. Climb off the barmanchariot and onto a barman!
HB - I went for an exercise stress test at the hospital this morning. You could try that. They put you on a treadmill and ramp it up further every 2 minutes. Not beinng used to jogging, I put my hands up at level 4, but you would have gone further.
They measure your pulse and blood pressure. My blood pressure is only one step higher than dead. And my pulse recovered to normal pretty soon after I lay down again. Which is apparently a good thing from a heart point of view. When I die you can have my heart, it's like new. The rest of me is clapped out of course. Everything balances up.
I'll pass on your questions to Dr Rob, but I think I know what he'll say.
Albert? Are you going to Bavaria to settle up your affairs? Getting the all clear from these guys is the kiss of death. I know a guy who had all that and they said he was fine and he fell down dead within a month. Get your heart sent back to Scotland when you snuff it and I'll make it into cannibal soup! That would help! Hotboy
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