Wednesday 8:50 p.m.
Today I finished the planting and the diggings and now all I have to do is keep the grass verges cut and watch the weeds grow. Life can now return to normal.
I've resolved to start writing again. Really, I haven't written much since last summer, but the jobbie is such a bore .... when you're writing you can hope that it may end soon. Or sometime. The Dom Bliss keeps saying I should write a play, but my secret agent can't sell a play. Unfortunately, I don't think the crime book idea is going to stretch to book length. Once I thought that if I wrote a book with tons of sex in it, I could get published, and I did.
On the other hand, I don't think I'm going to get an idea as good as the one central to xxxTheRealMcCoyxxx anytime soon, but you never know with ideas. If you just work away, the ideas will arise. Hmmm? Never tell anyone you're a writer. They'll ask you where do you get your ideas from.
Where do you get your ideas from, Hotboy? I haven't had a good idea for twenty years, Jack. How should I know?
With the diggings over and normal life returning, I can do stuff besides digging. I can cycle. I'll be cycling up the Kirk Brae tomorrow afternoon since our friend with the MS is in respite care again. (How dare I complain about anything?!) I'll be cycling up the Kirk Brae on Saturday afternoon as well. On Sunday Brian Wilson has threatened to go running with moi. I could get him to make a will beforehand.
The meditations are still becoming more and more .... the nicotine withdrawals have been far less horrible than I imagined, ameliorated a little by bottles of Erdinger. By next Monday I'm expecting to feel ... beaming bliss!
11:23 p.m.
Of course, they will pass away and I will be left on my own. By then I hope I can go and sit up by the National Gallery steps in Princes Street. There are banked steps there. Columns. You might have some kind of shelter just by the way the buildings are configurated. You could move round when the wind changes.
When flatheids try to give me change, I'd like to tell them to fung off. Or fish suppers. Or anything. Being warm and blissful in the open air in Chilly Jockoland would be a fantastic achievement. Eventually, some mad basturns would come and sit with you. Homeless folk. Junkies. The folk who can sit the longest decide the level we are going to be at. You sit on the carpet with some determinination and, after a while, everyone is sitting on the carpet.
Mr Hyde has been a bad, bad boy recently. Dr Jekyll should just laugh at that. What meditations when we can find the quiet place to wait and sit in!
And tomorrow I do not have to go to the jobbie! What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
6 comments:
Your digging is going very well. All my plants are still indoors in little pots. But the greenhouse will soon be ready.
I'm not a writer, I just write one novel a year in November. The universe gives me the ideas and words. I'm just the funnel that turns it to type. But then I never wanted to grow up to be a writer.
I'm much happier working on the wedding dress for my friend.
I'd offer this as a good quiet place to sit and just meditate. However today there are big machines taking down stone walls. It isn't nice at all and my cats are bound to have hysterics.
Marie! Hurrah for the greenhouse. That would be great. Building work? No thanks. I think I'd want to move out first! Hotboy
The photies have a purple cast at this end. Are you planting purple hearts?
The book with tons of sex in it - was that are you boys etc? That's the only one I haven't tried, perhaps the only one that would have helped me.
If you take the phone on the run with Brian you might get some bloggable snaps of old guys with purple faces.
Albert? You can apparently buy the hanky panky book online for a pee. Everyone has one of those surely. From New Caledonians they'd probably accept a coconut. Anyway, you're too old for dirty books. Hope this helps. Hotboy
I say!
Wilson is quite impressed with your digging. He asks - what sort of hoe do you use? Did it take you longer than three hours?
MM III
Mingin'! Wilson could outdig me any day of the week. Even 12 years ago at the beginning of the allotment time, I couldn't dig for three hours, not full on. Digging is the worst exercise in the world! It is humiliating and brutal. Thank god I don't have to do it till the autumn, but I maybe will find another way! That would help! Hotboy
Post a Comment