It was Christmas Eve, babes, in the drunk tank...

Noon.
Bliss diary: Just finished the first meditation of the day. Since I have not smoked anything yet, the light was brighter, the bliss more profound, etc., but I also have an edge of crabbitness. But I always know that when the pollutions diminish, the bliss increases. But a jagged edge of crabbitness. I haven't had to speak to anyone yet, which is good.

There has hardly been any Christmas so far which is great. But tomorrow I will have to go out for my Christmas dinner and I'll have to hold my tongue around the flathe.... sorry, the Unfortunate Ones.

Why is that, Hotboy? Well, Jack, imagine you were the only person who could hear music. Not only could you hear music, but you could play Rachmaninov on the piano. No one else you are ever with has one single bit of musical sense in their entire bodies. Even although hearing music and even playing Rachmaninov is within everyone's capabilities, there is no point in talking to these people about learning to play the piano. Even the smartest among them is not going to sit down and learn to play the piano because even the smartest of them has no idea what music is.

Right now, I have every sympathy for that Tibetan guy who went to America and humped everyone then drank himself to death.

It would be nice to be going somewhere ...if anywhere ... the young women were tottering around on high heels and half falling out of their dresses. Oh well!

9:00 p.m. Bliss diary:
Managed to sit four times today. The last one was wonderful! I don't think there has ever been so much bliss and warm and kind of thickness to the light.
Now, I'm going to have to go and speak to the family, so I've poured myself a beer. My old man didn't drink and was a great family man. His anniversary is today. Even folk like him didn't get the bliss.