This wonderful day!

Sunday 1:40 a.m.
Retributions from getting pissed last night meant I didn't start to meditate till about 1 p.m. After about two and a half hours of that, I was remembering what George Orwell wrote in Down and Out in Paris and London about going into work in the kitchen of a Parisian restaurant feeling totally hung over, and then sweating for a few hours, and feeling fine again. (I didn't need George Orwell for that today, but I just love his journalistic stuff, like The Road to Wigan Pier) So I got into the Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle and put on two pairs of trousers ... three sweat shirts, the bin liner, the woolly jumper, the hat, and my now on sale training mitts. Skipped for twenty minutes and then did five minutes of non-stop punching. Then to the bath to listen to Radio Scotland and the footie. This is a wonderful life!

Bliss bath and started meditating again for another couple of hours. The Domestic Bliss came home (I love the Domestic Bliss, I really do!) and she didn't mind that I went into my room and stared at a candle for another couple of hours.

Then it came on! The heat! Maybe after five hours meditating today, but a bad start really due to being an asshole.

Where is it all going to end, Hotboy? Well, Jack, it might end with me walking around in the cold and wind wearing only a simmit ...

I'm most pleased that Diana Jansen has stuck with this bloggy. Hello, Belgium! A simmit is a singlet, or a vest i.e. modelled by Cary Grant in It Happened One Night. (Ion ... the gurl in the book looked like Claudette Colbert crossed with Marlene Deitrich)

And I suppose I won't be able to have a duvet on my bed, and I'll just be glowing all the time. But this is in the future maybe.

So it's not all that hot today, but the heat is coming through. What is most interesting is the the non-duality comes through with the heat. This juju is not about keeping yourself warm in the cold. When you're doing it in hot places, you can imagine streams of cold water encapsulating you. It is about non-duality. It arises, abides and decline in mind... that's everything... you, the candle, the candle flame, everything.

What can I say about that? It's a lack of separation. A lack of alienation. Everyone needs to get some of that into their lives.

At ten o clock or so, I started drinking home brew. That's two weeks of not drinking, four nights of drinking, two nights of not drinking, and this is the second night on the beer. But I poured the rest of the barrel down the sink, so there is no beer left for tomorrow. I've never given up drink and dope at the same time.

I don't think anyone is really interested in this autobiographical stuff about me being a kid. Mary Queen of Scots was nice about it. Maybe the spango yogini is interested in that since she is a tim from Bellshill. I was going to write about my first times out with gurls, etc., since I'm done with being up to fourteen. Snogging in the George Cinema, etc. Should I go on with that, Michelle? I despair about telling folk about the bliss and all because if you were really interested in the bliss, you'd be meditating and you wouldn't need me to tell you about it. Hmmm? Maybe whenever something really good happens in the hut I could take a photie and post it, and just say, and then I took a photie.

There is a genre these days concerning folk having a horrible time when they were young. I can't write the bloggy as notes for this kind of a book. This has been a wonderful existence for me. It's been good at the beginning, good in the middle, and it's going to be fabuloso at the end. Allah Akbar! Kyrie Eleison, Kyrie Eleison, Kyrie Eleison!