The Weird Stuff!

Thursday 22:14 p.m.
I lost the plot today a wee bit due to the beautiful day and the compulsion to dig brought on by the vastness of the diggings to be done. So I planted and dug and didn't have my wintery Thursday day of being in the lobby and .... I need some anabolic steroids, Jack. Let's face it, I'm far too old for this malarkey and require major testosterone supplements. You always got knackered, Hotboy. You trained too hard; you ran too far; you are excessive in all you do. It's nothing to do with your age. You have a personality disorder. Actually, you need therapy. Is it time to call for Dr Bob?

Does moi have a problem?

I read once that it said if you have the super whammy experience of non-self and emptiness ..... there were colours in the air, mainly red and blue, fitting things together. The objects in vision were joined, partly by the air and the colours thick, viscous going into them; the pupils sitting around the soft seat place were more solid and independent and separate than anything else in view, but with wonderful golden auras flowing over them ... and I was completely straight and it was surely madness, madness, but totally true and right... so the book said all you had to do after that was think about that every day and you would become a buddha. Sometime.

"When we can see, straightforwardly and non-conceptually, the nature of our clear light mind and remain totally absorbed in this nature without ever regressing from it, we have become a buddha." The Dalai Lama. The Wall.

I'm surrounded by normal people who are getting about the business of living and dying and they are really nice. I should not call them flatheids. I only ever started that because I thought if I insulted them, they might start meditating, but I can't get away from it now. It is not politically correct. And my behaviour may be deemed a little excessive, maybe a little bit compulsive, Jack.

It is important to be happy. Being a miracle in this time and space, the least you can do is be happy. Or, at least, make an effort. So many people didn't get the chance. If you can find where you are supposed to be and what you are supposed to be doing, you might have a chance at least to be happier. You have to find your tao!

If you have been reading this bloggy and are generally soberer than me when you do, (Hello, Jack!) (Hello, Hotboy!), you might remember that a few weeks ago I was walking along George Street after doing some missionary work with the Poisonous and Brian Wilson when Brian Wilson stumblebummed into moi and tripped me up. Great solicitousness ensued as they both tried to get me back on my feet.

Although they knock you down, they do try to pick you up!

Yesterday I was walking down the Queensferry Road when I was stopped and asked by this joe where was Learmonth Terrrace. I could tell he was from the west coast. I pointed over the Telford Bridge, which is a wonderful thing and the way into Stockbridge, and he walked in front of moi. So I'm giving him some space. It's not that hard to get to Learmonth Terrace. You just walk over the wonderful bridge and it's on your right. He's only about three paces in front of me when he falls down.

Bugger all reason for this. He's from Gourock. He's new in this town. He's got an interview with the navy reserve at 25 Learmonth Terrace, but first he has to walk down the street and cross the bridge. And, inexplicably, he falls down. Slight embarrassment. I try to help him back up. He's okay. He walks another few yards and then he falls down again. I cannot believe this. He is not pissed. There is fung all the matter with him. I'm trying to help him get up and all that. He's a real trooper. He's just getting up and getting on with it. His trousers have a wee tear at the knee. He says when he gets paid on Friday, he will have to get another pair of suit trousers. Some people from the west, Weegies, are a bit particular about their clothes. It has cost him £18 on the train to come for this interview. The basturns said it was a ten minute walk from the station. It's twenty minutes anyway from Haymarket. He tells me he's a sports coach. I find this hard to believe. He says he coaches volleyball. I think if I was coaching the Australian Ladies Volleyball Squad, I wouldn't be able to walk down the fung street either.

Across the wonderful bridge, the pavement is tarmacadam and not slabs. Thank fung for that! This boy has no reason to fall down whatsoever before he gets to Learmonth Terrace, which is right across the bridge.

So I think my tao is to pick the fungers up when they fall down, and when I fall down, hope that the fungers will pick me up.

I would still like to have some testosterone pills, please. Someday I might not be even able to sit up. Today I was doing the yoga nidra bliss for a couple of hours flat on my back. I knew this was goddot giving me the big sweetie when it first happened and I got the bliss whilst lying flat out. Oh, what a fortunate creature, I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!