Resume!

Thursday 4:15 p.m.
Whilst the Domestic Bliss was having a kip to get over the transatlantic travels, I checked out the difference in the lobby. I can't say I've enjoyed the last ten days or so, but it seems that it has been worth it. Tons of bliss and some warmth even at the worst time of the day, late afternoon. What I have to do now is stay off the smoking and stop drinking!

Folk often come to my blogs looking for stuff on vase breathing. I backtracked to google from the statcounter thing. The first five entries are to my blogs and they've all got green signs on them since they have been "promoted" by someone. And not moi! Maybe they've been a wee bit of help to some other nutter!

10:55 p.m.
What a sensible law they passed here a wee while ago! You can't sell carry-outs after ten o clock at night now. Peckhams were selling alk till twelve up till then, but now if you get to ten, that's it. Great!

Shadow boxed tonight after a fabulous meditation, bathed and now I'm going to bed sober and straight. That's the way to do it! I feel much happier now that the Domestic Bliss is back in town.

Resume

Wednesday 11:12 p.m.
The Domestic Bliss should be back tomorrow around nine or ten in the morning, so I should sum up.

I try and try and try and end up a bit disappointed. Being at heart a democrat, and not believing in anything, I think I should be able to do anything that anyone can do, given the usual caveats i.e. I can't run as fast as the 100 metres champ because I have only one leg. However, if the mind game is about concentration and such, you think you should be able to do it. But I can't do it. I'll never be able to walk on water, or float. Loss of self, liberation and ultimate happiness is not going to happen for moi. But I do have some access to the bliss and I can stand on my head at 58 years old, so if you believed in rebirth (for some other joe obviously) then I'm about a million shots off it.

So what should I do, Jack? What should I concentrate my efforts on? Hotboy, you should write. Find a way to write and how to make some money from that so you can give it away.

As a member of a death cult, I have to say that everyone I know who has not been a member of a death cult has died very well. They really have. So why should I worry about that. Cormac McCarthy had a kid, who calls him Papa, when he was 69. I may have to live for a long time. My great granny lived till she was over a hundred. But I hate samsara. I really fung hate it. I think I'll have to start doing stuff in it again so I can enjoy some of it anyway.

I've got to find a way to think it would be better to be dead. When I was pre-pubescent, I remember once lying in bed and thinking that if when I was about to die, if I could think that here comes a whole new adventure then my life would have worked out. As the friends start to fall off their perches all around, I have to say that I am not there yet, Jack.

I'm up to page 90 in the re-write. Half way.

Two gorgeous black girls stood close to moi today. One was from Sierra Leone and one was from Zimbabwe. Fourteen, maybe fifteen years old. Wonderful kids, just a wee bit uncertain. Not been here long, a year or some months. I might be able to help such as those by not being a complete currant. And I should try to write. Because I enjoy doing that and sometimes it makes me laugh. Of course, I have access to ra bliss as well. Just get it down to four hours a day. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss! Allah Akbar!

The old, toothless one and moi ran up the hill in the photies this evening, which I took last Friday when walking home from Waverley Station. It does not look like a steep hill in these photies, but it is when you get started on it. But it's not the steepest hill in Edinburgh. Kirk Brae is pretty steep and the one in Costorphine is mindbogglingly steep.

At the top of the hill is the Scott Monument. You cannot see it well in the photies because that's the kind of camera it is. But it is a monument to a writer, unfortunately a Tory, but a writer nevertheless.

The Dom Bliss bought me the gloves for shadow boxing. They're not training mitts really. 14 ounces.

The old age!

Tuesday 11:05 p.m.
I don't do this stuff without the Dom Bliss very well. But she will come back tomorrow. Or the next day.

I had such fabulous bliss this evening for the two bit hours I spent in the lobby. Observing the bliss. It was fabuloso. But the volitional impulses ... I think I must have attached them to a false idea of self ... then I went to the off-license and bought some alk. Because, it seems, I have to be addicted to something.

It's like there's so much amazing bliss coming through that it doesn't matter what else you do. All the other things you do stop the bliss a bit, but what can you say when you can do all the other things and still get the bliss; resounding and increasing ... and the heat coming on. Maybe it's just that I can't face feeling totally wonderful. I have to walk along George Street tomorrow feeling not all that good because that's the way to do it. I could walk along there at seven forty feeling like God on Legs, but I don't know how I'm supposed to handle that really.

There's been a lot of chaos. Mental chaos. I like solid paths to walk along. This year there has been uncertainty. The dope supplies fell away. What do you do? I'm not very good at this. There is no steadiness, no stability. And what about the bliss, Jack? Tonight I did the three hours before going to the off-license. The bliss was amazing, and more amazing than ever before. But it was just bliss. You've got that, Hotboy. Why do the volitional impulses want anything else? Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!

Meditation and Madness!

Monday 8 p.m.
I was reading today all about folk who started meditating and then went mad. It seems that lots of foreign embassies in India have employed shrinks to sedate then send the loonies packing back to whatever country they came from. It hasn't worked for me. I've been trying to go mad for ages.

Dr Jack! Dr Jack! Help me please! Just lie down on the couch, Hotboy, and tell me what the problem is. Dr Jack, I've been developing this sheath inside outside my body and I've managed to connect it somehow to the air outside so that when I do vase breathing, sometimes I can get completely out of my face on air. Also, I'm trying to convince myself that I'm a deity and there's another one out there who looks just like me and says he is me. What do you think I should do, Dr Jack? Just don't tell anyone, Hotboy. If you don't tell anyone, how are they to know? Mum's the word!

I had a huge piece of pizza on Saturday night and by the end of Sunday I had none. This made the tired part of the early evening not so good, but I'm glad I got rid of the pizza as I wasn't ready not to smoke it with tobacco, the bane of my life.

Be nice when the Domestic Bliss gets home on Thursday.

More than Half Way!

Sunday 9:40 p.m.
It's been boosted, well boosted. At the end of the day that's all that matters. I've also had a great rest.

The Domestic Bliss returns on Thursday so now I'm in phase two. Phase one, which was last week, involved giving everything up and trying not to do anything at all. You win some, you lose some. I've been on the joints since yesterday evening, but I'll be out of soapbar after tonight. A wee holiday. Tomorrow I go to the jobbie and on Tuesday the wonderful children come back.

I've no idea what I'm doing or what's going on with this juju. But there have been some soaring heights, some great vistas of bliss over the last week. Also, a bit of a struggle with Mr Hyde.

Are not Mr Hyde and Dr Jekyll the same joe, Hotboy? Unfortunately, yes, Jack! Do you think I should be nice to Mr Hyde, Jack? It depends if you're Mr Hyde right now and not Dr Jekyll.

If you can get an observation on the thoughts so that the thoughts don't belong to anyone, and are just thoughts, arising, abiding, declining due to causes and conditions outside themselves.Then it might not matter what kind of thoughts you're having, at least not so much. They are just thoughts then. Stupid, lying basturns almost every one.

You should try being moi, so you should. If nothing else, you'd get to surf the oceans of bliss. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!

In phase two, I will attempt to be comfortable in my skin!

11:00 p.m.
Craving and clinging. Is this progress? Someone, yowling in the desolation of boblessness, phoned me up last night and I gave away half of the pizza. I couldn't have done this last year due to being a very mean person. But I had learned how to do this from this very person yowling away there. And it seemed very easy and apposite. If this is not progress, at least it has to be better. Of course, altruism is as selfish as you can get.

The Pizzaman Cometh!

Saturday 1:00 p.m.
After the recent ventings and carpings and moanings on this blog - usually after a couple of home brews late on - I think it's time to tell the spam robots about the bliss!

Spoke to a joe once who'd done a three year retreat. Said all the difficulties and hardships were worth it for the bliss. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!

I meditated for a couple of hours this morning and it's never ever been as wonderful as that! I wanted to get into this juju and be able to raise inner heat one time so I could think of myself as being a proper practitioner. I don't know if I can call myself one yet, but I am getting there. When the hassles are long forgotten, I'll still have the bliss. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!

The credit card pizza should arrive about five. I deserve a wee break, so I do!

Another Thursday!

Friday 2 p.m.
The two meditations today so far make it obvious that progress is continuing. However, it is boring in between times. So much time and so little to do! Maybe I'll go out and get on a bus. "A dead rat? Ah, what company that would be!" (Sam the Man).

8:30 p.m.
Just finished a cracking meditation there! Thank God for the wonderful bliss because the rest of it has been difficult. I wasn't expecting it to be difficult today, but it was. I did get a bus to Princes Street and then walked home. I was going to walk through the Botanics and sit in the hut, but it started to rain. I wasn't in great form during this. Unusually bad form.

If I'd been doing this at the Samye Ling, I think after the first few days I'd be feeling like doing practically bugger all else but meditate. It's harder here. The proof of the pudding will be on Monday morning when I'm sitting on the bus going to work, and close my eyes.

Smoking joints for weeks before Tuesday has plenty to do with the difficulties between meditation sessions. Tomorrow I'm due some credit card pizza, but that's fine as long as I eat it. However, my good friend with the unfortunate diagnosis may be down tomorrow night and I don't think I can sit down with anyone right now and not want to smoke a joint. We'll see. But I have moved on. Just didn't expect it to be so hard.

10:20 p.m.
It said on the news that after the appearance of the fascist on the telly last night that 22% of people would consider voting for the British National Party at the next election. This does not work north of the border here in Chilly Jockoland because we already have Rangers supporters and Orangmen taking care of these nasty basturns.

I'd also like to apologise to all the flatheids for being so insulting. Renunciation is a very hard thing to do. I cannot do it. I have tried to disdain material wealth, and having a career, or even a decent jobbie. I don't eat dead animals. I tell myself: Don't smoke; don't drink; don't ejaculate, and fail at all three. This is pathetic. But continually trying and trying and trying is taking it's toll. I think I'd like to experience the gross. Go to the chip shop and buy one of those steak pies, the really, really gross steak pies. And peas. Fung whores! Fung somebody! Even just fung yourself!

I don't have the causes and conditions, or cannot find them, to become like Milarepa. Some cats got it and some cats aint.

I'm fed up having no money. You can't make proper choices if you don't have the choice because you've got no money. I'll have to write something that will make some money. The last time I did this I actually made some money, at least enough to go on holiday to Nepal. Then I told the boy I didn't want to write wank books, but that's what the boy was trying to make money from. Fung books! I've been reading some crime books recently. I can understand why folk write them, but I cannot understand why folk read them. Crap writing; crap dialogue; just crap. Surely, I can do this!

Cynicism. It isn't really cynicism. It's the market. People have to make money. I have to write a wank fung scene for this book. I wonder if Elvis is on YouTube singing "Love me tender" on the Sullivan Show. I'll go and look.

I've got things I should do. I should make some money so I can give it to my daughter so she doesn't have to have a jobbie. I'll have to say bye bye to the anything more than four hours meditating a day. I'm just going to be normal and meditate for only four hours a day from now on. And pretend to be normal.

As the black spots are getting handed out here there and everywhere, I cannot say I am happy with this.

When I enter richness and fame, of course I will retreat to my cave with my dentist and my Philippino sex slave. I would like to be comfortable. My tao? Where is my tao? Be a man, Hotboy! Be a fung man!

Another Evening!

Thursday 10:20 p.m.
Tomorrow will be a great day! Today has been alright, but it wasn't really supposed to be any better than that. You can't smoke dope with tobacco for over a fortnight and then expect happy, happy days when you stop.

The reason why the withdrawals this time have been surprisingly light is because I haven't had murderous intrusive thoughts, or anything like that. Just not feeling great. Although I try not to believe in thoughts, I have to put up with them just like everybody else and I usually have a harder time than I've been having. Maybe this is because there is nobody around, or because I've been meditating almost non-stop.

I put on the telly this evening and put the sound down, watching Celtic playing Hamburg, doing vase breathing throughout. I know I've said this before, but sometimes I can't hold my breath for very long. Tonight I was struggling to hold it for thirty seconds (the seconds are on the match time thing on the telly!)when usually I'd expect to be able to hold my breath for a minute or more.

It's said that the "winds" can only enter the central channel when you are holding the breath, or when your lungs are empty and you're holding off taking a breath at this point.

But maybe you can't hold your breath for long like tonight because you don't need to. Anyway, there was plenty of heat tonight, or warmth.

Wait till you really get the heat, Hotboy! Wait till you're standing on one leg half way up the Himalayas! That'll be heat!!

How many lifetimes will I need the way things are going, Jack? Hundreds, Hotboy. Fung hundreds! Doesn't matter. You're putting in the time. You haven't even got to the dark night of the soul yet. But you're on the path. The main thing is to be on the path.

I'm up to page 77 of the re-write. There are 182 pages. I had a good idea today as well. Hardly doing any work on this book, but rattling through it anyway.

Question Time has just come on the telly. It has, controversially, Nick Griffin on it, the BNP leader.

Time to get out of this country, Jack. A million little Englanders voted for this currant. The only problem with that, Hotboy, is that if we leave the little Englanders they really will turn fascist and having a fascist state just on your southern border might become a bit tricky. Basturns! The BBC should not have done this. Their arguments are spurious. The led the Ten O Clock News with this story, which they caused to occur.

Started drinking beer at quarter past ten. I whip myself a bit, but I won't whip myself to death! Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss! Oh, ra bliss!

Nick Griffin is doing wonderfully well. The show is all about him. Apart from being a fascist currant basturn, he's doing just what David Cameron is doing as leader of the Tories. A bit of rebranding. Scrape the top layer off and what do you get? Stupid, fascist basturns!!

Another Afternoon!

Thursday 4:15 p.m.
Cancelled Bellshill for tomorrow and went to the Botanics this afternoon. The mobile phone camera doesn't really do the colours justice. I'd just sat down in the secret garden when a guide brought in twenty teenagers to stand in front of me. You've got to laugh.

I do find myself clenching my teeth and fists a bit. It's my own fault. Never again will I buy fags for joints, at least not till Saturday! I was hoping to feel wonderful by tomorrow, but I started later with the purification this week than I was expecting. Still, when you think of what you could have ...

Another Day!

Thursday Noon
When Milarepa was going to do the black magic that would smite his mother's enemies, he bricked himself up. It only took him two weeks. After that I think he thought doing the Six Yogas of Naropa would be a piece of cake, but he probably ended up doing them for the rest of his life.

The first English boy to become a Thai monk after the sutras were published in Britain after the Second World War went to Thailand to learn to meditate. With no meditation background at all, he was put in a bamboo cage on stilts and had to stay in it for six months, if I recall aright.

I have to remember that it took at lot of folk down the ages to put up with considerable hardship to get this juju down to moi. And it's not all about moi either! But I am finding this quite hard. Not the meditations, but the ennui in between.

Gliding Through

Wednesday 9:40 p.m.
Fallen leaves cover the ground now. The allotments are on the right. I went there today and meditated, dug up some tatties.

The meditations today were fine and developing okay. I must have put in seven hours today. When I wasn't meditating ... for some reason the nicotine withdrawals were hardly noticeable. The last time I had to do this (at the beginning of the school term)I was crabbit for a week at least, but I don't know what's going on just now. Maybe it was the three bottles of home brew last night.

But I would not say I was having a wonderful time. It's like heavy training. You don't appreciate it till you've done it. In the meantime just do it.

I did waken up today feeling happy again.

I did some writing stuff after being at the allotment. I'm skimming through it really. Actually, for what it is there's not much point in totally exerting myself. Don't really have to. Changing it a bit. Funny how things have changed in the twenty years since I wrote it last. You can't smoke in offices anymore or any work places, not in Chilly Jockoland anyway.

The old, toothless one and I ran up the hills tonight. I'm pleased the way things are going, but I would not say I was delirious about it. Deferred gratification is bound to be a wee bit like that! Allah Akbar!

Even More Solitude!

Tuesday 9:50 a.m.
I've cancelled the jobbie for this week so I don't have to speak to anyone.

The guy who might have come to sit, but wouldn't have, has ripped a muscle in his chest from playing golf, and couldn't have anyway. Some guys have all the luck!!

1:10 p.m.
Both meditations this morning exhibited qualities - this is really in the internal movements in the sheath thing - which I hadn't seen before. As I was trying to focus on the movement and developments in the bliss, it did occur to me that if this stuff happened to you suddenly, you might be completely freaked out by it. Oh, well. That's flatheids for you! The nicotine withdrawals are due to kick in today, but so far so good!

10:20 p.m.
I eventually finished the bob hope today about twelve hours ago, and was expecting severe retributions which, fortunately, didn't really occur.

Looking forward with anxiety is stupid. I try to notice that. Anxieties. Stupid anxieties.

This afternoon I was a bit jumpy, but after the shadow boxing and skipping, I was much better. During the afternoon, I thought I was getting a taste of being old and not liking it.

Hotboy, you are old. I know, Jack, but I meant older!

Anyway, when you're old, your partner will be dead and you will be on your own all day with nothing that really needs doing most of the time. It's okay then if you're not getting nicotine withdrawals and you can succumb to the bliss and whatnot. Otherwise, you are just waiting for the time to go in.

I don't want to be the kind of old person I see the flatheids becoming. That is completely brutal. I don't think old people should live on their own.

How long would you like to live then, Hotboy? Well, Jack, I'd like to live long enough to be able to voluntarily exit my body, which is one of the Six Yogas of Naropa. They say you can use this when you are dying if you haven't got the rest of the juju sussed out. They say it is not cool to voluntarily exit your body too soon, but bugger that, Jack.

When I read how old the old lineage joes became in the long ago, I was well impressed. Of course, the buddha died when he was eighty four, I think. You should stay alive as long as you can be a help, but these days I've reversed my opinion of the deaths of the 16th Karmapa and Paramahansa Yogananda, who were younger than me when they died. I thought they had died far too young. But I assume they believed in some kind of rebirth. Also, they would have lost this false sense of self .....

Where the thoughts are just thoughts that arise, abide and decline. They are not owned by you, these thoughts. If there is one big thing, surely it is better to associate yourself with that than with the stupid thoughts you have personally. The stupid, lying thoughts!

So ... birth, ageing and death.. grief, sorrow, lamentations ... delusions, disappointments and despair ... suffering in this life. That's the end of the 12 links of dependant origination. You should be able to stop it at the ageing. You don't get to choose when you die unless you top yourself.

One of the amazing things I've seen on the telly over the last ten years was the first buddhist monk to immolate himself in Vietnam when we were fighting for democrasy and not allowing a free vote. He clearly wasn't there when the fire took hold. Other, younger monks set fire to themselves and showed evident pain and reflexive behaviours, like curling over and rolling on the ground. The old boy just sat and didn't move. Somehow he wasn't there between sitting down and going on fire. Looked like a voluntary exit to me.

I've just drank the first bottle of home brew. Maybe I'll have another one!

Hope everyone is getting on with it excellently out there. Hello, whoever you are from Mountain View in California. Hello, to the folk in Finland! Allah Akbar!

Solitude!

Saturday 6:35 p.m.
The Domestic Bliss departed for a ten day holiday today, so hello solitude! Goodbye loving kindness, but here comes the bliss!

I was going to the hut, but such a beautiful day it was that I decided to take a walk around the Botanical Gardens. For a couple of years, the gate near us has been closed, but today it was miraculously open! They've built a new display entrance area there now and they really have done a much better job than I expected.

I just walked through and went looking for a seat in the secret garden. The first photie is of the seat. What a wonderful time I had sitting there today, meditating with warm sun in my face. The second photie is of Bottie trees. The last two photies were taken in Inverleith Park on the way to the Botanics. This is a beautiful, wonderful city! Especially if you are moi and fortunate enough to live right beside these green places.

I came home and did a skipping and shadow boxing session in the full Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle. I lost three pounds in sweat. A gallon of water weights ten pounds, so that's a couple of pints of sweat. I wish I could sell it to somebody.

The tobacco stops on Monday. I will be biting my hand off till Thursday. Every three days I'll shadow box once and run once. Of course, standing on my head and doing Tai Chi throughout.

I've asked my friend with the black spot if he wants to come round and meditate with me of an evening. Sit for an hour. I'll be sitting anyway. Don't bring any tobacco. Sitting for an hour if you're not used to it can seem like an cruel and unusual torture, far less doing it night after night, but it would probably do me a lot of good if he did show up, so I hope he does.

I'll be blogging a lot over the next ten days, but I won't be doing much, so it'll have to be about the bliss. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss! And now off to the lobby!

10:30 p.m.
Just sitting watching a show about Gandhi on the telly. Close your eyes and you're away. A joint every two hours or so. Bom Shiva! It still doesn't matter all that much. Soapbar is crap to smoke. But you just sit still and the thing which was once such a small, creepy-uppy thing is in the background, caressing and arising and stretching. How can this not be a wonderful world when there is such bliss in it! I've a few obstacles before I'm clean on Thursday. But the juju is developing! How it is developing!! Now I'll roll a couple of joints, throw away any tobacco (a nightly ritual these days!), go to bed and watch the footie on telly. Hurrah!

The Gasman Cometh

Thursday 5 p.m.
I think we must have been due to blow up, Jack! The street outside is being dug up; jack hammers at midnight and dawn.

I took the photies in the allotment this afternoon apart from the nuclear explosion at the end of the street; that's the sun going down in the street near where Poisonous lives on Sunday evening.

The old, toothless one and I ran the hills last night; the running is now returning to the wonderfulness of old and the weight is still dropping off me.

The only bad thing has been smoking joints for the last fortnight. I was going to stop today, but it turns out I have to do some missionary work this evening.

The reconditioned computer thing the kiddo's boyfriend fixed up for me didn't work of course. Freezing. I took it back to the shop today. I wrote my first novel on an Imperial 66 typewriter. Wonderful thing. Changed the ribbons and that was that. A wonderful thing.

Fabulous things continue to develope in the bliss. I do the bliss and nicotine withdrawals simultaneously. Dearie, dearie me.

Sunday night!

Sunday 11:40 p.m.
Poisonous never phones me up. So he phoned me up yesterday and I had a disease. But I went to see him this evening. The Alien Creatures from Outer Space can't have given me any choice. You're on this raft of consciousness, they said, and some other flatheids are going to be on this with you. They will not meditate. You cannot tell them about the bliss because you couldn't imagine the bliss when you didn't meditate. And so they are flatheids of the worst kind and will never be happy.

I want to be happy. I would like to think I was an observing part of the One Big Thing. Someday I would like to be watching the Heavenly Visions.

I was never really Scottish. I've been trying. But I was never really Scottish. Those who underwent the severe Calvinist toilet training know what it is to be a Scottish person. Poisonous is a Scottish person. He disdains happiness.

If the first noble truth is the truth of suffering, maybe these miserable basturns has got it in one.

Help me, Jack! Well, Hotboy, remember that eventually it should all be of one taste. It shouldn't matter what it feels like. Until then, remember that it is better to feel good than to feel bad. It's got to be better. You might feel bad soon enough.

Dearie, dearie me! Still, back to the jobbie tomorrow. Thank God for other peoples nice kiddos. I've got about forty pages of the re-write. Allah Akbar!

My Wonderful Thursday!

Thursday 11:30 a.m.
The photies are from the lobby this morning. The glass panel behind the buddha is by the kiddo.

Background music for this from Screaming Jay Hawkins singing Heart Attack and Vine from Youtube.

My wonderful Thursday consists of no flatheids. Last Thursday I had to take the kiddo's boyfriend to the railway station and then Shiva phoned me in the afternoon. So I went to see Shiva and we smoked an awful lot of skunk. Bought fags for joints on the way home. And I've been dancing the dance of death with the Nicotine Dragon ever since. Drank four bottles of beer that evening whilst watching Celtic on the telly. Dearie me! This is not my wonderful Thursday. Today I will have to see the Domestic Bliss for about an hour, and that's it. Hurrah!

You might not think it is at all wonderful to sit on your backside for hours and hours at a time, but this is because for you I cannot factor in the bliss. And the fascination of watching the bliss develope. And the warmth slowly turning to heat. And all that jazz. What a shame it is for the flatheids!

This morning I weighed in at just over eleven and a half stone, and this pleased me a great deal. I have lost a half stone in the last month or so. On Monday I did a short run during my lunch break. On Tuesday I did twenty of Mr Iyengar's yogic jumpings plus twenty minutes of shadow boxing. Last night the old, toothless one and I went for the hill run without the hills. This means you cut off at the road through the colonies instead of heading for fame and madness on the hills. Running with the old, toothless one has made quite a difference. We're talking about doing a half marathon next summer or spring, but our bodies are old. Still, whether you are young or old, running will still knock the crap out of you.

I'm trying to stay off the joints today. This will be a great day for the bliss whatever else I do.

Wednesday Afternoon

Wednesday 4:36 p.m.
Unusually for me, I didn't make it to the allotment this afternoon. I may still go. The problem was the bliss. I'd been having a wee lie down after a few apres jobbie joints. Dozed, but when I got up to go to the allotment, I felt almost heavy with the bliss. I thought: I'll have a wee preliminary sit down in the lobby before I go. One and a half hours later, here I am.

And what shall we do, Jack, when the bliss like a great ocean wave comes in with such amazingness attached? What can you do, Hotboy, but do the bliss. Do the bliss.

Last year at this time .... it's going so fast. I feel as if I'm helping something instead of doing something. The last couple of weeks have seen such a change! Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss.

Hello, Ms Jansen from Belgium! Thanks for sticking with this blog although it is mostly rubbish. It is for such a you that I'm going to keep it going since it might be doing you some good. I do not like being unable to describe the bliss.

Bathtime with the Blissheid On!

Friday 11:20 p.m.
All the photies are from the allotment, but the last one wasn't taken on Wednesday.

I donned the Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle tonight and did a yogic jumpings and shadow boxing routine, the six threes. Then I went into the bath. No cannybliss yogurts beforehand this time.

Never has there been such wonderful bliss in the bath before!! Even the bliss in the bath has moved on! I must say that the bliss in the bath is the most fabulous side effect from doing the juju of jujus, the great vajrayana. It was all over me tonight. Everywhere was the bliss. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!