Bliss diary resume!

Saturday 00:23 a.m.
To get on with this meditation malarkey, it is much easier to get a gun and shooty shooty all the flatheided basturns that come near you. But some folk might say this is not compassionate. On the other hand, I do not think it is compassionate to walk around with a flat heid, with your head stuck up your arse and emanating as some kind of pond life moron. And stand there in front of moi exciting my compassion when I'd much rather just tell you to fung off. This is maybe not so true with your old relatives.

So I cycled down from Shotts today and landed into the good mother's. It took me a half hour on the bike. Then I cycled to Bellshill and the auld maw was great. I got an hour meditating in her bedroom whilst some Tibetan boy was going on about the bardo. What a way to spend the afternoon! Sitting with someone over ninety listening to the boy talking about death.

And what shall we do, Hotboy, when old age and death come rolling in? Just fung off and die, Jack! Just fung off and die!

So I'm too old and fat for this cycling malarkey. Like, after an hour and ten minutes on the bike, with one close death experience - the power relationship is wonderful. This motor is heading straight at me on a roundabout in Motherwell and I brake, twist, and I'm away, half glancing at the horrified face of the motorist. You see, you're free on a bike because you cannot kill anyone, only be killed - after this amount of cycling I'm half dead and would like to go to sleep. This makes concentrating on anything a bit difficult. I just would like to lie down for a bit.

But I feel once again that I am on the cusp on something wonderful with this juju as long as I can get the time on the cushion in.

I got a phone call from the consiglieri on Thursday night and he came down for a wee visit. I'm not going to say no to the consiglieri.

You cannot explain to the flatheids what you are missing by having to sit with them because they do not get the bliss, far less developments of the bliss, the ones you are missing by sitting there having what's called a good time with them. But I did have a good time and it is not appropriate to tell the consiglieri to fung off just now.

The meditations through the day yesterday were fantastic and I knew if I could just get through the evening and was still in there when it grew dark ... but it was not to be. It's not all about moi, though why shouldn't it be when the too dumb to meditate are always going to be too dumb to meditate?

He's the worst agent in the world, by the way. I think I might be the worst writer, so there is an appropriateness in this somehow.

It's a building block thing. You miss having the wonderful Thursday all to yourself and ... you just haven't done your best to do what has to be done.

The best thing on the telly, if you're going to sit there in a lotus with the noise blockers on and the eyes closed, is a foreign language film. I don't speak any foreign languages and they're usually quiet since they are so cheap. No helicopters, no big explosions. One of the worst things was what was on tonight. Sons of Anarchy. HBO. Actually, if I had the time I'd have probably wanted to watch it. But I don't watch much telly. How are you ever going to fly about the place is you spend your time watching stuff on the telly? Anyway, this DVD has lots of explosions and a great soundtrack and meaty punchings and is exactly what you don't want on the telly when you're trying to keep company with the Domestic Bliss whilst doing the vase breathing and whatnot. After that, there's a BBC Four show about a brilliant rock band ...

Despite it all, I was getting some bliss and even some heat. But no where near what I could and should be getting.

The Domestic Bliss is going to be out of town tomorrow evening, but somehow I have got a date with Poisonous. I forced him to agree to go to five small opera things at the Traverse tomorrow night after the DM told me she'd these tickets and would I like ... No, I wouldn't! I should phone up Poisonous tomorrow and tell him to fung off. We used to take quite interesting drugs together, but the last time I saw him for a night out, I ended up falling down and hurting myself. That's another reason why the decent drugs should all be legalised. When you are old, you don't network, you're not in a scene, and what's left? The legal drugs! The totally accessible alcohol! Basturns!

But they are not so fortunate as you are, Hotboy. No, Jack, this is always correct. These flatheided basturns are not as fortunate as moi, but that's not my fault. Just one interaction a week with any of these too dumb to meditate bourgeois basturns would be quite enough.

Despite all this, I am quite good humoured as I head off for beddy-bys because this juju is really working, so it is. So it is! What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am.

I joined facebook to trace a relative. The upside down photie is moi! There's a photie of the auld maw from up above her bed and from about seventy odd years ago. And a before and after sky shot from the allotment this evening - between 8:40p.m. and 9:40 p.m. And some weird blue flower on the way out. God is great! Allah Akbar!