Thursday 8:10 p.m.
The beer is Tyskie from Munich, weighing in at 5.6%; four bottles for £5. After giving up tobacco for about five years, I'm going to smoke some Silk Cut joints. This is very stupid and I have no excuses.

I ended up in Bellshill today so I could devote the whole of the next three days to the juju. Usually, I go on a Friday so I can meditate for six or seven hours on the Thursday and be in a suitable frame of mind. I thought I was ready for it today, what with the huge amounts of ra bliss I've been getting, but maybe not ready enough.

There were two siblings, two neices, the auld maw, and my auntie Kathy. In Edinburgh most conversations are just about passing information really. There is no - what is referred to as - "crack". People are constantly taking the piss, or being provocative deliberately, laughing, joking ... I just wasn't ready for it, Jack. What they're lousy at is simply passing information. It's like visiting the looney bin, so it is.

The sister takes me aside immediately and wants to know about Beef McDuck. It seems he's in hospital with malaria. They think he must have been bitten by a mosquito when he went to Seville to see Celtic not winning the Cup Winner's Cup a couple of years ago. Froggie McDuck had phoned me yesterday to tell me he'd septicemia from in ingrown hair and he was probably out of the hospital already. You think: Why can't these people talk to each other? Then they all arrive and they're talking to each other so much that I had to make my excuses and leave. It's much worse if you visit a pub in Bellshill. Overwhelmed you are.

A lot of people in my family have the same Christian name. Once I got a phonecall from my sister. She said Beef is in hospital. He's been stabbed through the heart and lung. You take this in as best you can. There is a pause in the conversation. You say: Which one? I was hoping for the other one, my brother, because he was older and you always half expected some atrocity with him. I assumed that getting stabbed through the heart and lung meant that you were dead or dying. I picked the wrong one. Through good fortune he was out of the hospital in about a week. He was up at the door with a gigantic carry-out in a fortnight.

When I tell people I'm the normal one in my family, they don't believe me.

But they're all flatheids! I thought when I started this blog about two and a half years ago that once you told people about ra bliss they'd all start meditating. The reason why they didn't meditate was because they didn't know about ra bliss. There are many other reasons for meditating, but ra bliss is the big sweetie and the world is full of sweetie eaters.

Deferred gratification and sweetie eating are two direct opposites, Hotboy, and the reason why they don't meditate is because they would rather have a wee drink and a joint or two. Or five. Correct, Jack! What would I do without you? I'm a flatheid as well!

I asked Froggie how Beef was doing in hospital. He said he was fed up and bored. His leg was violet, but I think it had been beeling purple at some point. An ingrown hair. Anyway, when I get taken to hospital, which I hope will be quite soon, I think I'll just lie back and do ra bliss. There are no off-licences in hospitals. People maybe come and give you food. Or MRSA. He's in a hospital in Glasgow which is getting famous for it. Maggie Thatcher gave the cleaning contracts to the lowest bidder and now we're scared to go to hospital. It's pre-Crimean War, so it is. But I think I'm looking at the mental wards where, hopefully, there will be no open wounds and you can speak in a language you've made up just for you.

When I started saying Sussquehanna to myself, I read a book that said you should try to say the mantra all the time. Incessantly. It makes you smile this idea at first. Seems like a very stupid thing to do. So then you're standing at a bus stop and who knows when a bus is due. You can kick your heels, walk around, sink into torpor, lose the will to live entirely ... but if you start saying your little mantra, the nice feelings will arise. Boredom doesn't come into it anymore. I stopped doing boredom a long time ago.

You have to stick with this stuff. It's the shape of your life. What would like like it to be towards the end? You knew it was going to get boring when they started talking about mortgages, and washing machines, then babies and nappies. Now, they talk about diseases, things that can take you out.

Conventionally, there are flatheids, walking around with their heads up their bums, talking complete crap. Ultimately, it's just a lot of old photons. The problem is thinking about flatheids. I shouldn't let them wind me up. It would be good if they could do ra bliss though. It would be much better for everybody.