Saturday 11:04 p.m.

The Dakini surfed down a sunbeam and showed up in the kitchen not looking all that pleased with me. She said: How many oceans of tears do you want to shed, Hotboy, before you find a middle way between what is agreeable and what is disagreeable?

Sometimes we should be filled with shame and embarrassment. The dakinis dance about, but they are also full of wisdom, which is a total bummer.

I have to say, Dakini, that in all the aeons of time in which we have conversed, you and I, that the tears I have wept through not finding the middle way between what is agreeable and what is disagreeable would fill a great many oceans, but have you got any bob hope with you?

And, verily, Hotboy, I do have the bob hope with me and enough so that you can plan your future between the agreeable and the disagreeable. Verily, if you smoke this ounce with tobacco, you will go to hell!

Do you mean that I might get a bit of a bad cough?

No, hell. Mostly disagreeable. Not much which could be said to be agreeable.

Hmmm? Had to have a bit of a think about that one.

Poisonous came over to discuss this with me today... the middle way between the agreeable and the disagreeable, the repercussions of doing bad things in the context of arising thought frames and the kinds of thought you might have as a result ... and I realised that all the folk I have met with over the past couple of weeks have been most agreeable and almost none of them disagreeable.

We don't have to worry about the flatheids, do we, Jack? No, Hotboy, the flatheids are okay. They are so okay they don't even know they're flatheids.

After smoking more joints and mulling over phenomenology with Poisonous, I threw the tobacco down the toilet. Lo, the dakini appeared once more. Well done, Hotboy, for first of all pouring the home brewed beer barrel down the toilet and now for throwing the rest of the fags down the toilet! Go out and buy yourself four bottles of Erdinger for this is the middle way right now between what it agreeable and what is disagreeable and the results thereof!

Will I get to go to heaven soon, Jack? You never know, Hotboy. You never know.

Perfect Day!

Thursday 10:34 p.m.

The kiddo asked me to go to the Wasp gallery off Hamilton Place to see these Begging Buddhas. Korean glass artist. Can't remember his name of course!

I started meditating today around ten in the morning and probably put in five or six hours before going to the Begging Buddhas. Back home, I did nearly ten minutes skipping then twenty of Mr Iyengar's yogic jumpings, and then did my six three minute rounds of shadow boxing in the full Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle. Buggered by the fourth, Jack! The doctor had a look during the fifth. Don't remember the sixth.

First thing I know I'm doing the bliss in the bath and feeling very smug because I did not eat any bob hope beforehand. Anyone who has read this bloggy for a while (Hello, Jack!) will know that one of my favourite, favourite things is soaking the exhausted body in the bliss bath with bob hope arousals for desert. I wanted to get in another meditation before succumbing to the bob hope. And, yea, it was a mighty one, full of the whitest, deepest bliss and so still.

Then I ate a bit of dope. I'll go away to the lobby and await events.

Allotment Shot 7?

Wednesday 6:56 p.m.
The flowers were growing beside the path. Do idea what they are. The allotment photie was taken just after four. You can see leaves start to come on the trees.I dug from just after four till half five. Dearie me!

I get into trouble in the non-meditation times due to being me, but the meditations after work today were just fabulous. I have to try and remember that sometimes when there are difficulties I have caused myself to have. Thoughts, Jack. Lying basturns every one!

Scunneration

Wednesday 10:55 a.m.
It's a miserable day out there. When I stepped onto the wet pavement this morning, I realised my boots were leaking and almost phoned in sick. It doesn't take much, Jack! I'm here at the jobbie anyway. I don't like being here. Nobody else is here.

The London Book Fair is at the end of this month. Once I wondered if one day someone would take a book of mine to the Frankfort Book Fair. And they did. But they didn't sell it. Somehow I didn't expect that. But the one in London is on soon and you never know.

I thought I was going to take a real spanking from the nicotine withdrawals this week after seven days on the joints, but it's been not too bad. I haven't gone out looking for small furry animals to torture or attacked anyone. I drank beer over the last two nights, but I might have done that anyway. Still, not a good state of mind really. Doomed.

I wasn't expecting there to be no soapbar for the first three months of this year. It's been unsettling. If some arrives this evening, I'm not going to drink until it runs out again!

It's been a crap couple of days, but I'm going home now. Yes, I'm going home!

Same Old, Same old!

Monday 9:40 p.m.
Scunnered is an interesting word. Sometimes I felt a wee bit scunnered today. Not such a bad day for nicotine withdrawals, just sometimes feeling a bit scunnered. No bob hope, no release.

So what of thoughts, Jack? All we have is thoughts. Be nice to get better ones. How does one get to the point where one can have thoughts without even a little measure of scunneration?

How's about the arrival of the perfect thought, the perfect beatitude? How long is it possible to sustain the perfect thought for?

The bliss obviously involves feeling. How can you make feelings constant? How can you get them to be perfect? Is it possible? Perfected feelings, or thought?

If it changes, I don't see how it can stay perfect.

Maybe we are just funged by being human beings.

Are we stuck with the variations, Jack? The variations between good and bad, the agreeable versus the disagreeable ... yes, we may be stuck with them. I'm not saying everyone is stuck with them, but it appears that without constant happiness we are stuck with them, you and I, Jack.

Are you telling me, Hotboy, that there will never be a point of satiation, the perfect pitch between the agreeable and the disagreeable, for as long as we will live? Yes, Jack! It looks like that to moi! There is no perfect sustainable point between the agreeable and the disagreeable, it is all variation.

And so we must choose a different path, and not hope that by meditating your socks off for ever that you can attain other than the great oceans of bliss. Because in your face, the basturns are still out there, and so are the untamed thoughts, and feelings, and all the multitudes of things ... I'd like to stop being a human being! When you're a kid it can be okay, and when you're young ... but just stopping it right now, that would be great.

Ignition?!

Sunday 5:45 p.m.
The photie was taken at 1:45 p.m. today.


There are nine beds of onion and four rows of tatties.


A long time ago, I thought it might be possible to be able to close your eyes and be almost immediately in bliss. This was my ambition. This was all that my juju was about then. No religion in that, Jack! Is there a road to the bliss? Today after sitting at the side of the allotment, I sank almost immediately into a vast wonderful ocean of bliss. It was just there very soon after I closed my eyes.

I'd like to stop right there for a moment and give myself a big round of applause! Hurah! Hurah! Hurah!

I'm happy with that. If I get an old age, that's going with me.

Then I went into the hut. So you've got the amazingly wonderful bliss and you might be able to just leave it there. No method, just the bliss. But you start in with the manglings of the medicine buddha sadhana. This is taking the result as the path. Usually, I'm trying and totally failing in do these visualisations, but as you've got some little potential idea of the medicine buddha failing to materialise, you might start thinking about the qualities. You are the medicine buddha. You are full of compassion and altruism, loving kindness, joy, bliss, healing and heat. You start to try to emanate that.

This was a first today. Trying to blast out the joy and compasion and all that felt completely brilliant!


After the men had fixed the window on Thursday, and I'd been to the dentist ... blah, busy, blah ... sometime later, I wondered if this was ignition. As in: Houston, we have ignition! You're supposed to be able to ignite the inner fire at some point. I was getting lovely tendril waves of heat rolling up my body apres the vase breath. And tomorrow I'll be chewing the carpets at my jobbie due to murderous nicotine withdrawals! Sometimes it's really hard work being as dumb as moi, Jack!

But no beer since last Satuday. I think I'll give myself another round of applause for that!

Descriptions!

Thursday 11:40 a.m.
No beers since the dakini visited moi, but dancing the dance of death with the nicotine dragon once more.

Forgot all that I've said about the bliss, Jack! We have surely reached a point where we must begin again to try to describe that which is difficult to describe.

Closed my eyes in the lobby about an hour and a half ago and, though I'd been a bit grumpy and wasting my time with stupid thoughts and joints, as soon as I closed my eyes, it was right there. It's opens, or you sink towards blissful states, or the sheath inflates. Immediately, it's quite intense. Full metal jacket. We're not in Kansas anymore, Jack!

Just sitting there while it gets stronger, better. It's very easy to breathe. The point of this juju is to have the flow of air up both nostrils go evenly, and that must be what's going on. It feels far easier to take a deep breath and hold it in this state. Shoot the breath! Wheeee! You're certainly not in Kansas anymore. You're not even on the same planet. There's fantastic potential for all kinds of wonderful feelings in here.

You start mangling some kind of medicine buddha sadhana. You're having to intimate the visualisations because you're nowhere near being able to do them, but it seems important that the thoughts flowing evenly and without jumping about and losing focus. This is very nice. Then ever now and again, you do a vase breath and ..... this is going to be a fantastic day! The phone rings.

A man is going to come round and fix the window. Why don't I get a gun and just shoot the basturns? Then someone sails in the door totally unexpectedly. It's Piccadilly Circus before you know it! Basturns, basturns, basturns.