Ra Samye Day Two and a bit!
9:10p.m.
Didn't quite get as far as the blootering bliss tonight, but I'm getting there. Bliss seems to get better from about eleven till three in the afternoon and then from about six till ... you get tired. Well, I've done about ten hours meditating today (so far!) and can't feel too bad about having a wee break. This cafe is open on Saturday night as well. Viva Las Vegas!
I think it's time to have a wee think about what I'd like to do with the rest of my life. If I had any sense, I'd start planning now for a three months stay on McDonald Island. I could go there and do deity yoga for three months during the summer after I get some American kids to make me rich. Here's how that would work. The kids get hold of an American publisher and everyone gets a few bob. Not only will the book make a fortune, but me and kids could sell the movie rights. A kid's movie about kids getting a famous classic novel published against all odds. I mean, it's Disney isn't it. Need a dog. I'll be Brad Pitt.
Then, when I've got the Carnegie Prize for kidbooks, I'm famous enough to pitch the idea of a documentary to Channel Four. I'll do a camera blog thing once a day from beneath the shady hamburger trees on McDonald Island. It won't cost Channel Four much money this. It's cheap tv. About twenty year ago an hour of drama on the telly cost £300,ooo. All I'd have to do is occasionally stand on my head and say ra bliss, ra bliss.
I think I need an agent for this. I had hopes that Brian Wilson would transform himself into an agent, but giving up the pink sticky stuff (40 percent alcohol per volume) has proved too much. Alsom, being totally unable to order anything for lunch except tripe and black puddings would be a bit tricky in the kind of restaurants he'd be asked to lunch at. So I'll have to give him the sack.
The only alternative is Adolf. He's already in the Unheard of and McDonald Islands and is already in contact with several American young women through his blog. Also, he's basically unemployed as far as I can see and can tell the people over lunch all about his problems, even although these are practically non-existent, apart from having no one to tell them to.
Really pleased I brought The Way of the White Clouds with me. It's be Anagarika Govinda, who was one of the first heavy duty dharma folk I read. His first book was, I think, The Psychological Attitude of Early Buddhist Philosophy. Great first chapter. Didn't understand a word after that!
The Clouds I read in Nepal in 1996, I think. I understand more of it now. The description of his guru being found after spending twelve years in the wilderness is great. In fact, I'm loving it even although I only read for half an hour today. There's a part coming up, I think, when his guru zaps him with ra bliss. That would be great. Probably have to spend a wee bit more than three months on the McDonald Island to be able to do that. Better than despairing of the flatheids. Come here, flatheid. Zap! Brilliant!
I'm never get round to the Alexandra David-Neil book. She wrote another two that I've read anyway. The one about the Journey to Lhasa is great. The British closed Tibet, so she walked to Lhasa to piss them off, I think. She was 55. I'm 54. When I read that I thought 55 was awful old for a person to undertake such an arduous journey. Most folk that age, I imagined, would be expecting to snuff it soon. She died when she was 104, I think. Same age as my great granny, Mary The Flea. I was going to die when I was 52, but it didn't happen.
I enjoyed reading Little Big Man especially the end. The old blind chief climbs a mountain and makes it rain. Then he says something like: "Thank God for making me one of the human beings!" Slightly different context (the indians called themselves the human beings!), but I loved it anyway. Thank God for making me one of the human beings. Says it all.
Didn't quite get as far as the blootering bliss tonight, but I'm getting there. Bliss seems to get better from about eleven till three in the afternoon and then from about six till ... you get tired. Well, I've done about ten hours meditating today (so far!) and can't feel too bad about having a wee break. This cafe is open on Saturday night as well. Viva Las Vegas!
I think it's time to have a wee think about what I'd like to do with the rest of my life. If I had any sense, I'd start planning now for a three months stay on McDonald Island. I could go there and do deity yoga for three months during the summer after I get some American kids to make me rich. Here's how that would work. The kids get hold of an American publisher and everyone gets a few bob. Not only will the book make a fortune, but me and kids could sell the movie rights. A kid's movie about kids getting a famous classic novel published against all odds. I mean, it's Disney isn't it. Need a dog. I'll be Brad Pitt.
Then, when I've got the Carnegie Prize for kidbooks, I'm famous enough to pitch the idea of a documentary to Channel Four. I'll do a camera blog thing once a day from beneath the shady hamburger trees on McDonald Island. It won't cost Channel Four much money this. It's cheap tv. About twenty year ago an hour of drama on the telly cost £300,ooo. All I'd have to do is occasionally stand on my head and say ra bliss, ra bliss.
I think I need an agent for this. I had hopes that Brian Wilson would transform himself into an agent, but giving up the pink sticky stuff (40 percent alcohol per volume) has proved too much. Alsom, being totally unable to order anything for lunch except tripe and black puddings would be a bit tricky in the kind of restaurants he'd be asked to lunch at. So I'll have to give him the sack.
The only alternative is Adolf. He's already in the Unheard of and McDonald Islands and is already in contact with several American young women through his blog. Also, he's basically unemployed as far as I can see and can tell the people over lunch all about his problems, even although these are practically non-existent, apart from having no one to tell them to.
Really pleased I brought The Way of the White Clouds with me. It's be Anagarika Govinda, who was one of the first heavy duty dharma folk I read. His first book was, I think, The Psychological Attitude of Early Buddhist Philosophy. Great first chapter. Didn't understand a word after that!
The Clouds I read in Nepal in 1996, I think. I understand more of it now. The description of his guru being found after spending twelve years in the wilderness is great. In fact, I'm loving it even although I only read for half an hour today. There's a part coming up, I think, when his guru zaps him with ra bliss. That would be great. Probably have to spend a wee bit more than three months on the McDonald Island to be able to do that. Better than despairing of the flatheids. Come here, flatheid. Zap! Brilliant!
I'm never get round to the Alexandra David-Neil book. She wrote another two that I've read anyway. The one about the Journey to Lhasa is great. The British closed Tibet, so she walked to Lhasa to piss them off, I think. She was 55. I'm 54. When I read that I thought 55 was awful old for a person to undertake such an arduous journey. Most folk that age, I imagined, would be expecting to snuff it soon. She died when she was 104, I think. Same age as my great granny, Mary The Flea. I was going to die when I was 52, but it didn't happen.
I enjoyed reading Little Big Man especially the end. The old blind chief climbs a mountain and makes it rain. Then he says something like: "Thank God for making me one of the human beings!" Slightly different context (the indians called themselves the human beings!), but I loved it anyway. Thank God for making me one of the human beings. Says it all.
posted by Hotboy at 9:16 PM
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