Lent has been deferred!

Thursday 8:31 p.m.
When I told Jack the Spam Robot that I might be donning the Viking Helmet with Brian Wilson tomorrow night, he stole the rowing boat, took the mobile phone and emailed this photie from the West Indies. Why would he send me a photie of an eggplant plantation? He's probably gone schizophrenical.

On the way to the sackcloth and ashes this evening, I was struck by a blinding light, a revelation. And God, for it was he, said: Hotboy, do not ever again put any nicotine into your lungs. If you do that again, I will surely make you suffer, and die a grim lingering death that takes ages and is very stupid. You've been getting away with murder, dancing the dance of death with the Nicotine Dragon over this last wee while. This is your task. Just stop it! Stop that and I will let you drink beer after beer. Hurrah! So I bought five (not four!) bottles of beer from Peckhams.


So I emailed Jack back and told him that he should go to Pakistan and get me some resin, which this time I will not smoke but eat up like a good boy. This is why I have lived so long. Eating bob hope. Eating bob hope can keep you off the piss ... first bottle down ... make the telly bearable ... and give you a wonderful night's sleep.

It's very important to find your tao. I don't know quite what that means, but it is very important.

I would like to be of benefit. To be an example of a right way Joe. To give everything up, and one day I hope to, I'd need to get away from the flatheids. Whilst amongst the flatheids, I fear my tao is to show that you can get the bliss and not be a saintly kind of person. I am afraid that might not ever be me.

I got here .... this evening before I sallied forth to the off-license ... I knew I was in the heat zone where the non duality will arise ... by behaving like what?

By behaving like moi! And after being a pissheid, potheid, and lecherous basturn all your days, Hotboy, what are you going to get? Well, Jack, if I live long enough, I'm going to get it all. Or, if it is a long, long process, a fung of a lot of it. More than you can imagine right now, that's for sure.

Two beers down!

Why is this, Hotboy? I have no idea, Jack, but being surrounded by the too dumb to meditate sometimes does my head in. I don't think you have to do anything else but sit down and meditate. You've got to play the mind game. The mind game is obviously the only game in town. They are descended from monkeys, Hotboy. Maybe some of them aren't descended enough maybe. This and grace are the only explanations. Thank God we don't believe in explanations because if they really are too dumb to meditate and some of them are still monkeys I think I'd like to go back to my own planet now.

It's all about you, isn't it, Hotboy? Moi, moi, moi!

There are probably one or two nice people come to this bloggy. It gets hit about forty times a day, so some nice people must come here occasionally. It's no fung use being nice. Ponies are nice. Bunny rabbits are nice. It's nice to be nice, but you're not going to get to be half way towards being a human being unless you start sitting quietly and maybe mutter some mumbo jumbo to yourself.

I've invited Poisonous to the drink fest with Brian Wilson tomorrow night. Of course, I've started a bit earlier so I can be stopped by the time this comes round tomorrow. Only able to point to the clip-on shades and the earphones and have a few pints and say I'm not the man I used to be.

Don't read any more of this. It is not for you. It is a vehicle for a drunk person, so with three beers down, I must go out and buy two more. That would make seven beers in one night. Fung anarchy for the U.K.! Then I may lie down on the carpet with my mobile phone headphones attached and ask the dakinis to do their worst.