Resume!

Sunday 9:55 p.m.
If you don't look at the comments here, the Spango Yogini sent me this link ...http://www.karmatube.org/videos.php?id=322 ... I've only managed to watch the first half since I want to save it for when I'm at the jobbie tomorrow and want to slit my throat.

I got to the bit where the boy was saying this course takes ten days .., it's a morning till night gig. It's so embarrassing that I haven't done any proper retreats.

Once I was speaking to this joe about funding a theatre tour. He asked me if he could make any money by investing in such a thing. I told him he could lose a lot of money. It was when I was getting the play BUSTED produced. The joe was a dope dealer. We talked about this other joe we knew who was also a dope dealer and had done some time. "With the people he knew," this joe said,"he could have become somebody." By this he meant that this guy we were talking about could have become a bigger, richer dope dealer.

I'm a disgrace to the juju! If I can get Uncle Brian to fix the hut, I'm going to have to go and sit in it. What's a couple of weeks in a hut when the rewards would be so wonderful? My guru is the man who knows most about meditation probably anywhere outside of Asia, and probably there as well. I feel like a complete ... anyway.

When I got back from the airport around half five on Friday morning, there was an envelope waiting for me on the kitchen floor. A wonderful buddha card and twenty quid. That meant I could go to the off license three nights in a row, including tonight. Really, I need all the money and excuses taken away. Despite that ... when I got back from the off-license and sat down again, suddenly, the whole thing went ballistic.

Sunset tonight was about half eight. I must say I don't like this stuff. I'd like the meditations to give you the same thing at any time. I wish I'd never heard that it might be better at certain times of the day. Maybe I'm just too suggestible. So I'd already bought the bottle of Erdinger and the bottle of plonko collapso, but the last hour of meditation tonight was just brilliant. Everything just worked so much better. Dearie me!

So Uncle Brian will help me fix the hut. I will write to Teresa and say that I have a problem. My problem is moi!! I will tell her about my stupid meditational practises and ask to see the lama before my summer holidays. And maybe, if I am very fortunate indeed, I will get into the hut this summer at last, and I will sit there, and sometimes I will cry and cry and cry, but I will keep sitting there until something occurs, if I am very lucky.

The first thing I have to do is not buy bob hope when I get paid on Wednesday. The second thing I have to do is stop drinking after tonight. The third thing ... I got off with the Domestic Bliss forty years ago this October/November. We went to see the Keef Hartley Band in the dancehall, now gone, in Stockbridge. We went back to my bedsit and dropped a half tab of acid, the first time I'd done this drug, which as the boy from Operation Julie said, did change my consciousness. So come October/November I have to be able to present myself and not as a complete idiot. But as the kind of wonderful human being, full of accomplishments, or at least the kind of person who has made in this lifetime tried to make the very best of what we have been given, and not entirely the kind of moron whose only aspiration was to be the kind of toadying evil bourgeois basturn... ARS LONGA VITA BREVIS.




Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Tomorrow is Monday. Hail Mary, full of grace, get moi into the hut and out of this jobbie. Amen! Hotboy