These Wonderful Holidays!

Tuesday 11:00 a.m.
Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!

These holidays have been so, so much better than I could have possibly imagined!

First of all, I didn't have to take any of my annual leave since the big days of carousing all occur at the end of the week. This means I get to come into the jobbie at the start of the week, like today, and there's nobody here. Hurrah! A semblance of normality.

I spent about two precious hours of my life out shopping among the christmas santy basturns, and then there was just the meal and a couple of hours of the good bit.

I haven't been drinking much, so Mr Hyde has been kept in check. The nicotine dragon has been once more unleashed, but I'll get the lance out after the Hogmanay. Dr Jekyll has been having a truly wonderful succession of meditations. You'll realise by this time that it's impossible to explain to a flatheid what this might be like, but the wonderments just increase and increase!

I'm hoping Dr Jekyll comes closer to delivering the knock-out blow to Mr Hyde in the New Year. Such may be the increase in the bliss that there will be no point in finding succour elsewhere. Already I know it's far better to do the bliss than eat the cannybliss yogurt in the evening. I've just got to remember what I'm trying to do and go for the peace and quiet and tell the flatheids to please fung off.

Tomorrow evening I expect to be in the company of some of my deep dear friends, folk I've known for nearly forty years, since I came to this beautiful, wonderful city in 1969. Unfortunately, they are all completely funged. Where did all the time go that they spent eating sweeties and wasting this precious human existence? It went down the plug hole, Jack. Just the way they're going. Facing the retributions of grief, sorrow, lamentations .... delusions, disappointments and despair ... suffering in this life. Thank God I spent some time meditating!! Here comes the joy, contentment, satiation and serenity!

Of course, some connections of the progeny of the progeny of the evil bourgeois may show up, half falling out of their dresses and tottering around in high heels. Hmmmm? What would you talk to them about, Hotboy? After a brief resume about why they shouldn't turn into their parents who turned into their parents, I might get onto the subject of schoolgirls and what President Clinton said about a lewinsky not being sex. Oh no! I'll be stuck with the old people!!

Miscellany!

Saturday 11:40 p.m.
After meditating for most of the day, I've just finished watching a movie with the kiddo. No Dom Bliss in attendance so I kept the noise blockers off. Just great bliss arising anyway. It's that time at night again and I wasn't drinking beer. It's so wonderful the way it just came in with the wriggly bit. I should really sit up tonight and crack on.

I love getting a present at this time of year from the kiddo. This time I got a poster/calender with all kinds of photies of the Samye Ling on it and me as well, sitting in the back temple. What a wonderful present! Kind of laminated by some computery firm. I was so pleased. She'll start meditating some day, so she will!

The Dom Bliss got me many things, including a mobile phone. This would require reading some instructions .... hmmm ... and they give you cancer. I heated a cup of coffee in the microwave oven last week. That's quite enough technology for one year. I'll keep it for when I'm holed up in the hut and it turns into Fort Apache, and I have to get beamed up.

I decided that if I didn't get a positive from the secret agent about xxTheRealMcCoyxxx before Christmas, then it wasn't going to happen. By now he'll have had about eight rejections and that's more than I would have stuck with it for. Anyway, I got another idea for the crime book. A plot development! I think I might have a storyline here.

Because the kiddo has got the disease, we couldn't go visiting today. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! This has been a great Christmas. I've hardly noticed it.

Congratulations!

Saturday 27th December, 2008. 12:53 p.m.
Crabbit as hell, I'm not inclined to post, but I thought I should mark the wedding of the sensei and reverend, who is getting hitched today. So congratulations to the happy couple! I'm open to offers .... Hotboy is willing! Only the filthy rich need apply of course.

Hotboy, how would you like to spend Hogmanay at Flatheid Castle, where you will be able to drink and smoke fags, but not take any decent drugs; where you will be surrounded constantly by folk who don't get the bliss, the too dumb to meditate; and where you will not be able to escape from these unfortunate, learning difficulty, stupid basturns for days and days at a time? No thanks!

I was only out of the house for about seven hours on Christmas Day. It's like being a wee mouse in a glass bowl surrounded by horrible, slavering, cat monstrous basturns, and trying to become as invisible as possible. The only safe place is the hut. To the hut! To the hut!

It Was Christmas Eve, Babes ..

Wednesday 10:22 p.m.
I never met anyone who had trouble with their parents until I started mixing with the progeny of the evil bourgeois, when I went to college for the experimentations. Half the folk I met then had trouble with their parents. Maybe it was because they were all from these pretend families where there were only one or two kids, which seemed to be pretend families because obviously they didn't like children or they would have had proper families of at least five or six. The good thing about being from a big family, my sister says, is that you realise you are not that important. Anyway, nobody was on my case. There were a lot of other cases to deal with.

I was fortunate with the parent thing. I know that I am more fortunate than some people in this regard who read this bloggy, and I am sorry about that, especially since I didn't do anything to have such luck.

My old man passed away on Christmas Eve in 1965, I reckon. He was one of the Ragged Trousered Philanthropists. My old man was a far better person than I'm ever going to be, so here's to the old man! I'm already five years older than he ever was.

In the two days before his heart gave out, my old man sat in the living room all night because he couldn't get a breath. He heaved for air. I walked in and saw him when I got up for school on these two occasions. So I shouldn't smoke. I know what it looks like to die from lack of breath and it is an effort.

This is the best run up to Christmas for ages! I haven't seen anyone for days and days. I've made great progress, or it has made great progress, over this time. I will try to purify my mind. God knows how wonderful it will be if I could just stop doing the really stupid things, like drinking and smoking and the cannybliss yogurts. If I'm out of my face at night, I'll never be able to do dream yoga, Jack. I know, Hotboy. Wouldn't lucid dreaming be something else!

By the way, I remembered today, and it made me feel positive, that I'm the first Hotboy that I know of in my family to ever get the bliss. Or to ever be born in a country where the dharma is taught. What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!

Approach to Xmas

Monday 12:28 p.m.
I was surprised I never got a bit further yesterday, but I didn't do any beers or fags last night. Putting any mind altering stuff into an undisciplined mind can't help. Purification is the name of the game! It's as if it was all piled up and waiting to go first thing this morning.

Fabulous meditations today. You know there's heat in there now alright.Fabulous, fabulous, fabulous!

I can't remember feeling as good as this in the run up to Christmas before. Then again, apart from family members, I haven't seen a flatheid since last Wednesday. Peace and quiet with moderate purifications ... well, it's all got to help, Jack.

There's nobody on the jobbie except me and the janny and someone in the office, but the janny wants me out at quarter to two. What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!

Medicine Buddha Meditations!

Sunday 11:18 a.m.
It was thinly overcast, without much wind, so it was not too cold when I sat down yesterday at the edge of the allotment, on the section of log covered with a newspaper. It was about three o clock. I fixed my eyes on a white mark in the middle distance. As it became dark, I fixed my eyes on a little yellow glow from a streetlight in Arboretum Place. There was no problem sitting there for a hour and a half.

I think that was maybe what was in the post that was here and disappeared somehow.

I'll take a spanking for my bad habits, but I'll get some rewards for my good habits. The good thing about buddhism is that these things don't balance up. You get retributions for both. Here are some of my good habits.

1) I meditate a lot. I probably did about seven hours yesterday and was well into the wobbly weirdly weirdly zone.
2) I do a lot of vase breathing. These days more and more. Vase breathing is supposed to be extremely good for your health and prospects of a long life.
3) I really enjoy keeping fit. For the last thirty years I've usually been the fittest person I know.

I try hard. It is very windy today so I may just stay in the lobby. The Domestic Bliss is out today. I'll come back here after I stop a session and describe it if I can.

1:19 p.m.
That, the first meditation of the day, took about an hour and twenty minutes. If you're too dumb to meditate, the rest of this post won't be of interest.

I take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. The Great Buddha Lama Yeshe Losal is my guru. May I gain enlightenment, etc.

Then I go through my list of gurus, visualising them in front of me and then over my head, going into a light beam and dissolving that through me, asking for purification and wisdom.

Lama Yeshe Losal, Dr Akong Tulku Rinpoche, Ringu Tulku, Teresa, the Dalai Lama, Kalu Rinpoche, Lama Thubten Yeshe, The Sixteenth Karmapa (do purification lights onto symbols with him), The Seventeenth Karmapa, Lama Yeshe Losal. Finish with Jesus Christ from the Turin Shroud.

Visualise all the folk I know, relatives, friends and one or two complete basturns, who are now snuffed.

Then dedicate the merit to whoever is getting it these days. At the end of this I've been practising a bit of tonglen with Peter Ballock, whose photie is on the web. Peter Ballock has been very good for me.

First of all, I don't know him, but I got the last bit of dope he was going to get. As I ate and smoked it, I thought this was at least some kind of karmic link. Also, it is very good for your aspirations to think about dying a lot. Unless you're very fortunate and just drop dead, you're going to get handed the black spot at some point. So you might be sick for quite some time.

I don't think at my stage of the mind game that I'd be able to access the bliss if I was going through a terminal illness. When you're dying what you need is the realisations of emptiness. At the moment, I'd die just like Peter Ballock and I don't want to die a flatheid. I want to die happy, joyous. I want to think that a whole new adventure might be opening up for moi. So Peter Ballock is being a big help.

Then, after thinking about the dedication, I go through the after death process and try to arise and the Medicine Buddha, placing the channels and symbols first of all. So you visualise yourself as the Medicine Buddha and then with the Medicine Buddha before you. Basically, I busk my way through the generational stage of the juju.

This was all done with my eyes shut and in various degrees of bliss almost as soon as my eyes closed. Soon, I'll go back to the lobby and carry on.

3:11 p.m.
Did the second session with my eyes open. The Dalai Lama says you should keep your eyes open, or, in my case, gazing down at the Medicine Buddha postcard. I get more bliss with my eyes closed, but I think you get more emptiness with them open.

The second session was mainly completion stage juju where you're going up and down the central channel, visualision symbols, vase breathing, etc. With my eyes open, I was still getting terrific amounts of bliss.

Did a bit of the analytical meditations there as well. Lots of bliss and some little intimations of emptiness ... how can nothing exist outside your own mind? ... but not much heat at all. This is probably the wrong time of day to expect much, but I started late today.

Now I'll have a break before the night starts to close in.

6:04 p.m.
The last meditation started at five past four and finished at ten to six. The Dom BLiss's sister gave me an opaque glass ball which has a red light under it for my Christmas a couple of years ago. It's good for gazing at. So I fixed on that and tried to do what I think the lama calls mahamudra meditations. You don't use an object to concentrate on, but just observe the thoughts and let them go. When I had to move into the easy posture due to the aching legs, I closed my eyes and did the vase breathing using the channels and symbols. Tons of bliss, especially towards the end, and some heat but not much.

Just when you're getting it to really work, you have to take a break!

9:00 p.m.
Did some physical jerks, had a bath, and started the last meditation at quarter to eight and finished at half past. Tons of the bliss, but, funnily enough, not much heat. More heat but still not much.

I ate a cannybliss yogurt about half an hour ago, but today and yesterday have been nicotine free. Tommorrow nicotine thoughts should not arise.

When I raise my head from gazing at the Medicine Buddha postcard, I'm facing a photie of the lama. (I look at these photies quite a lot. I've got two, mirror images, which is quite cool somehow!)

Sometimes the smile seems to be really beaming out of the photie. Sometimes it doesn't seem to beam out so much. There seem to be variations in the smile. Common sense tells us that this is not true. The smile doesn't change on the photie. So there must be some kind of projection working here.

I know the magic soup and the toast and banana can't taste as delicious as I think it sometimes tastes.

I'm not being nihilistic here. I know there's stuff out there though I'm definitely not sure what kind of stuff it is.

'The world, as so understood, contradicts itself and is, therefore, appearance and not reality.' F.H. Bradley. The wall.

How much projection would it take to make everything you ate and drank taste like ambrosia and nectar? Maybe it would be the same amount, only you'd have changed your view.

Samsara and Nirvana are the same reality
In the state of ultimate awareness. (If I remember right!) Milarepa.

The lama told me I'd get everything from calming meditation. If you just do that without trying anything else, maybe that's all you really need.

I've much enjoyed having this bloggy today! Someone has just come in.

The Bad Habits!

Friday 10:47 p.m.
Whilst sampling the new home brew ... cut down on the sugar from the last one, but still a potent brew. Now on my third bottle. Oh well!

Not so much at the moment, but the bad habits make various kinds of thoughts arise. Drunken thoughts, or stoned thoughts. We are not so interested in thoughts, are we, Jack? No, Hotboy, we are interested more in the bit between the thougts, or, at least, mental calming.

It said that Gampopa was at the stage where he only had one breath a day and had no need to sleep. Are we aspirational, or not? It is hard to see how you could get to that condition whilst cavorting with the flatheids. And indulging in your bad habits... by which you are characterised and by which your chummies know you. So, what is required is purification, if you are aspirational, if you'd like to take this juju seriously. Enlightenment in this very body is all that matters.

You just go mad for a bit. It always stabilises after a while. It's getting through that first bit. Always the tricky phase. If I could get every cell in my body to be bursting with the bliss and when I see flatheids, take a deep breath and roll my eyes to the top of my head, and wobble about and then fall down zonked by the bliss, then I may be able to give up bad habits. It's not good enough to be given the keys to the kingdom and not turn the lock.

Experimenting!

Thursday 7:36 p.m.
The Domestic Bliss has just gone out to the singing and dancing and I'm going to have my first joint since Sunday. I know this is stupid and I have no excuse.

I've meditated today for about six hours so far, but I wasn't quite settled somehow ... maybe lingering nicotine thingies!

I watched Jon Stewart on the Daily Show last night interviewing Mike Huckerbee (?), the conservative republican, who seemed like a nice man. But Jon Stewart gave the best defense of gay marriage that I've ever heard. The only gay person I know is Albert. I think Jon Stewart should be President after the Bammer.

Well done to the boy who threw the shoe at Bushy. Well done for Bushy for ducking it. Brian Close eat your heart out! Bushy should have played creekit. Without a hat!

I'll have another joint then spend a couple of hours in the lobby. Boom, Shiva!

10:26 p.m.
That session was almost as good as it gets. Got better when I straightened up. Wonderful intimations of emptiness ... I got that doing these meditations last week as well ... really feel very nice indeed. I think I'm supposed to be trying to combine bliss and emptiness. It felt as if I was getting a wee bit closer to that tonight.

I'd like to give up all my bad habits in the new year and spend all evening meditating. Anything else isn't as good.

The Bammer and Moi!

Thursday 7:11 p.m.
I read in the paper today that the Bammer spends an hour a day in the gym and has a heartbeat which is an 'impressive' sixty beats a minute at rest.

Bugger all impressive about that heart beat! My heart runs at 60 beats a minute when at rest and I'm a fat, drunken basturn, a good ten years older than the Bammer. Also, I'll take practically any kind of drugs as long as they're given to me for free.

It said in college he used to 'experiment' with drugs. When I was at college I also experimented with drugs, Jack, and so did practically everyone I knew. When we all left college, we experimented even more because we got jobs and had more money to spend on experimenting.

This has left me with a lot of bad habits. Even although I can get out of my face on air, I still experiment with drugs. I wonder if the Bammer still experiments. Probably still takes a toke. Let's hope he stays off the crack pipe. Adolf Hitler did smack and speed and look at what happened to him.

I'm not long out of the bliss bath after doing six threes. I felt actually quite fit tonight. Do you think you could take the Bammer in a square go, Hotboy? I'd moida da bum! Basketball does not prepare one for the fisticuffs. Also, if you want to be racist about it, there are no more murderous basturns than the Scots, apart from the Scots Irish, and moi is a mixture of these. Just as well I not going to be President. I'd nuke the lot of them, Jack. There are no sentient beings. Fung them!

The Best of Possible Worlds!

Dearie me, 00:25 a.m.
A couple of days ago I told myself that what was happening to me through the great vajrayana, the juju of jujus, was the best thing that could ever possibly happen to anyone, anywhere, at any time.

But things change, and you have to go to the jobbie, and why oh why does it have to be like this .. the grief, sorrow, lamentations ... delusions, disappointment and despair ... suffering in this life!?

I have not had any tobacco this evening. I spit in the eye of the nicotine dragon and hope for better, more purified, times.

The Vase Breathing News!

Monday 3:09 p.m.
I knew the bliss had jumped the gate and raced off over the hill again last night. I was doing some vase breathing in the kitchen. The after-effect of the outbreath were just so bloody amazing! Felt quite transcended, I did. Lots of heat and fire, but it was as if something new had been added to and changed the wonderful symphony of sensations already present when the vase breathing is at its best. It just carried on this morning and today. Let's hope I get a chance to practise tonight!

In under an hour this afternoon, I think I've worked out a plotline for The Revenge of the Traffic Wardens. It's quite promising. Lot of blind trails, deception and treachery!

I was so impressed by the Cormac McCarthy book I'm going to read another one called All the Pretty Horses.

The Food Store!

Sunday 3:32 p.m.
Whilst dripping in the full Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle ...

I haven't been doing much in the line of physical jerks recently due to the disease. And I had on my grumpy face today, probably due to the nicotine dragon making a reappearance, but to help compensate I've just finished trashing myself prior to collapsing in the bath. Did 20 of Mr Iyengar's yogic jumpings, ten minutes skipping, and six three minute rounds of shadow boxing. You feel the repercussions in about an hour. About then, I'll be hardly able to move!

I've been eating the magic soup since the start of August. I'm still eating it. Today I brought back a bag of tatties from the allotment. There are about two hundred tatties left up there yet and I have enough cabbage in the freezer, and onions, to make the magic soup into the New Year. This is far better than usual. Hurrah!

I brought a wee Christmas tree down from the allotment as well. And I'd like everyone to know that I'm really looking forward to Christmas and the Santy Christmas basturns are NOT going to get on my wick this year!

Off to the bath! I'm saving the cannybliss yogurt for later!

The Poisonous!

Saturday 00:20 a.m.
He said I should tell people about the bliss in a way that it was easy to understand.

You have a mind. To train your mind you should have something to concentrate on. If you pick a sound, it might stop your internal monologue. This lying basturn. The sound you should pick is MUMBO JUMBO. This is a perfect sound. It encapsulates the whole of the juju. It is everything you need to or have to believe in. Nothing else is required.

If you are old and have no access to the bliss, it is your own fault. But being a flatheid, you won't even know that. Flatheids, unfortunately, don't get the bliss. What is the point of being a flatheid?

Embarking!

Thursday 1:44 a.m.
I was very unstressed today as I left the jobbie. There was ice islands in Inverleith Park pond and the sun had gone down as I passed there about half three. The sky was kind of yellow around the horizon where the sun had just gone down.

Sometimes when life has been, or is being, so wonderfully good to you, you would like to express thanks. At such times, the Disbelieving Congregation relaxes its atheism and heads full blast towards the whole patriarchal bit.

Thank you, God! Thank you, God! I'm sorry about the stupid flatheids who do not meditate and will never get the bliss! But it is okay for me! Yes, it's okay for me, at least right at this moment! Oh, God! It's so okay for me I can't believe it!

Post-Disease!

Wednesday 10:23 p.m.
Whilst the Mr Hyde grumbled with the disease, Dr Jekyll developed apace. I wonder if the juju would just go on maturing if I did nothing else.

Then how would you notice it, Hotboy? Well, if you weren't meditating, you might feel it massaging about inside your body as you sat typing, for instance. Whatever that is, that wriggling thingy. It's easily imagined as a snake thing. It massages you're upper body. I wonder what it is.

It could be called Chi or kundalini or prana maybe, but I wonder what it is.

It seems if you gather all this chi up to the top of your head, you can then hit yourself over the top of your head with an iron bar, and smile, so I don't see how the wriggly thing can be chi.

Why don't martial artists ever talk about the bliss? Don't they meditate a lot?

Although I do not understand anything, I am more than prepared to soldier on. The great juju of jujus has filled my life with wonder and joy and hope. Not to mention surfing the oceans of bliss. And as soon as the disease cleared, I knew it had somehow moved on again.

A bath with bliss is one of the most wonderful things! Since I cannot really describe the bliss and you probably being a flatheid will never experience the bliss, it is well nigh impossible for you to grasp even a very small part of the totality of wonderfulness which is the bath with bliss. Don the Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle and lose a few pounds of sweat beforehand ... nothing like it. When I realised once that the bliss would come on while I lay in the bath, well, I knew I was on a winner!

I think I'd like to be in a place where you sat in a balmy climate under trees, meditatiing all day, eating fruit and salads with chips, and mayonnaise. Maybe you have to suck on a chillum now and again (Boom, Shiva!) just to get into the spirit of the thing. But everyone around you is meditating all the time and everybody knows about the bliss and there are no flatheids anywhere. Shame about the amoebic dysentery, Jack. Fung shame, so it is, Hotboy.

The Revenge of the Traffic Wardens!

Tuesday
I've started working on my next blockbuster. Nothing about schools or schoolgirls. I'm going back to the crime book idea I had a year ago last spring, the one that starts with the massacre in the pub with the nutter/killer disguised as a traffic warden.

I'm more interested in working on an idea like that since it'll be very plot based, and a story where everything the reader is first told is a lie. I think this is a normal way to write crime books and goes all the way back to Dashmell Hammet, the boy who wrote the Maltese Falcon.

This is one time I might start a book and not finish it. Well, I'll get the plotline written anyway.

Cavortings!

Saturday 6:40 p.m.
Brian Wilson should be here within the hour, the pig's face hanging from his nether lip half chewed, a fag up each nostril. You just know he can't wait for that time in the bar when he takes out his false teeth and puts his bottom lip over his nose. Always a show stopper.

Tomorrow I might have to crawl over to the hospital and pretend to be a train wreck. Bye bye the higher meditative states!

Act 2 of the book called Love Me Tender, Love Me Sweet (The Story of a Forbidden Love) starts on a night like this. Our hero, the intrepid school librarian is stumblebumming about somewhere in the beautiful, wonderful city when he comes upon the schooolgirl, who is having a fag on the pavement outside a club, half falling out of a cocktail dress and tottering about on high heels. Of course, in the book I'm a younger, more successful writer with a motor car. Got to have a motor car. Vital for the plot.

So the babes is standing shivering on the pavement when she sees our intrepid hero,laughs and says .... well, what does she say, Jack? Hold me. You've got the job, Jack.


Spent all afternoon in the lobby. The bliss has once more moved on. The bliss doesn't give a shit about the disease.

The Scotthishness and Disease!

Saturday 1:54 a.m.
John Muir wrote an autobiography. He invented National Parks, in America particularly. Of course, he was one of the wonderful Scottishy people and came from Dunbar, I think. Anyway, he said the Scottishy people in them days didn't lie in bed when they were sick. He remembered falling head first, passing out, into the hayricks as he was labouring away there, confounding the disease. Where did these calvinist crabbit basturns all go?

As soon as I got a little sniffle, I dropped everything. Changed my life completely. Slept for hours, watched DVDs, starting thinking about the writings. Also, still having recourse to the bliss and enjoying the vagueness of concentration.

Even diseased, I am so fortunate.

Characters!

Friday 1:44 p.m.
I was lying in bed today thinking about the writings. This is why I thought I should pack it in, the writings, I mean. I'm supposed to be lying in bed thinking about emptiness.

You have characters in books. I have a wee problem with human beings having characters. I know you can describe people as being virtuous or being right rotten basturns, but there's something solidly independent and autonomous about describing characters somehow. I didn't have this problem before being convinced that there are, at the end of the day, no sentient beings. Perhaps I'd like to see everything simultaneously arising, abiding and declining in mind. In any case, I think I'm supposed to be moving my view from the concrete towards insubstantiality.....

'yet living beings collect karmic seeds, experience the results, and take rebirths according to their previously collected karmic seeds and the presence of spiritual distortions within themselves.' Tsongkhapa. The Wall.

So you must be able to write about the progress and development of 'characters'. Thank god for that!

I might be hard at this stage of the mind game to write fifty thousand words and not mention once that the entire group of characters are going around with their heads stuck up their backsides, and would have no worries and loads of the bliss if they weren't just too dumb to meditate.

What I'll have to remember is that whatever I'm going to write has bugger all to do with real life, or only a tenuous connection; that it is really just an alphabet on a contrasting background, and you can do with that what you bloody well like as long as you don't expect anyone to buy it off you.

I should start writing something just now because by next summer my secret agent will have no one left to reject the current proposition, and then it might be nice to have something else on the go.

So not only will I have chapters, paragraphs, full stops and commas, but also characters.

Be easy to write something about a character who thought there were no sentient beings really; that flatheids were a waste of human beingness and would be endlessly reborn anyway; that human emotions were ridiculous ... at least, I could empathise with that multiple murderer. And even if I don't know anything about bullet wounds and guns and stuff, I do know about digging holes up the allotment. Also, you can murder folk using spades and scythes and that.

The Writings Again!

Thursday 6:15 p.m.
Sitting here with my jacket and hat on, but it's not that cold really. Obviously still diseased, but it has been companionable since the Domestic Bliss also has the disease.

The book my secret agent in trying to flog at the moment, the one about the boy who wants to be the new Christ, started off as a cowboy book in 1977. I think it was the fourth novel I'd had a go at. The reason why I wanted to write a cowboy book was because I'd never written one before. You don't want to keep writing the same kind of book unless someone offers you money to do that, and even then, if you had some other way of getting money ...

I read The Moon In The Gutter by David Goodis about a fortnight ago. I really like David Goodis. I didn't like this one as much as I liked Shoot the Piano Player, which is a great read, but there is something charming about The Moon In The Gutter. He does the failed artistic type wonderfully!

Just now I'm finishing No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy (?). He's given up on commas, so there's only full stops, and indentations for the dialogue, which is brilliantly written. The book is a succession of shooty shooty and you could only write such a book if you knew about guns and bullet wounds and such like, which I do not.

I've already written a book with folk shooting each other and blowing stuff up, and I don't really want to write a crime book because the sensei's crime book has still not found an agent, and that kind of puts you off. I'd like to write a page turner.

Are you going to have any chapters this time, Hotboy? This time I'm going to try my best to have chapters and paragraphs and commas and full stops. But I'd like to bury a dead body in the allotment, so there will have to be crimes in it.

The writings!

Thursday 00:48 p.m.
I once thought that what you had to do was hypnotise people so that they couldn't stop reading; so that their thoughts would co-mingle with the words that they read to such an extent that they would lose themselves and be in the transparency of what you were trying to say.

Then once I thought that I would have to be able to write far, far better than anyone else because I was not connected with the people and places where you just got the shoo-in. I imagined there was a shoo-in. I don't think there is. Anyway, that didn't work.

I think I've just had a stupid attitude for most of the time. Also, nobody is interested in the bliss.

I decided today that I should start writing again, after a lay off of about six months. Then I thought: why bother? Nobody else tries to write. But I like writing. I think I'll write a book about falling in love with a schoolgirl. This will be someone of seventeen years old.

We've already got the first act. The emails, the schoolgirls bouncing off the glass box, the punishment, the public embarrassment. The second act is basically about the commencement of the funging. It turns into Carmen. Can you see the chickita arising from this? And the third act is the end of the matter, which could be any of many ways. The sack. The sack as the other novel rakes in the cash, the Domestic Bliss cursing me to hell, suicide, grief, sorrow, lamentations ... delusions, disappointments and despair ... suffering in this life. In fact, the usual from wanting the wrong things. However, if you were going to write a book, that might be the one to write.

So you think it might be a good idea to write a book about shagging schoolgirls, Hotboy? Well, Jack, hold me. You make me feel all warm inside. Love me tender, love me sweet, and never let me go! Elvis has just left the building!

Another disease!

Tuesday 8:27 p.m.
When you've stopped meditating, you're back into having a disease again; with the coughings and snufflings and shiverings. The disease will effect the meditations alright, but if it's not too bad, or is just coming on, then you can almost get away from the disease for a short while. And rest in the bliss. It's just like the magic bliss mild hangover cure. If you can get into the bliss, there isn't any hangover in there, or disease. And tonight I tried to put some heat into the part of my chest which should soon be the site of the searing wracking cough, and I think that worked. Well, it got hotter there. The disease won't give a shit.

Due to being diseased and off work a week ago, I can't get another disease so soon, so I will be at my post tomorrow.

Schoolgirls!

Monday
First thing this morning I see some bosses. Three six year girls were implicated in the obscene email, but the one who was most at fault ... well, her parents are coming up to the school to see the headmaster. How embarrassing! I had a letter of apology from her and her dad waiting for me this morning. I bet you he is not a happy bunny today! What a total embarrassment! Dearie me!