Ra Beer Must Go!
1:30.a.m. Friday.
At the end of the day we may imagine a fantastic kindness. It says don't worry. You drink too much. You take too many drugs. You may not be .... but we have loads of forgiveness and loving kindness so that doesn't feel too bad. If you meditate, you will certainly feel happier more often... after a while... but at the end of the day if you're in this existence .... where the changes are, might not be the best place to be.
Awareness and existence might mean you're going to get a spanking, but where else would you rather be?
I'd like to be on the Unheard of and McDonald Islands. Adolf, who is my agent in the Southern Oceans of ra bliss, should get this sorted out as soon as he decided he's got pots of money, but fung all to do. He should get me onto the Unheard of Island. He could do that. Cheap tv. Just pitch it to the moron. One guy reclaiming the island. Sitting quietly doing nothing. Feeds to Aussie once a month. Stand on my head. Do ra inexplicables. Rumtek, then the islands falling off the end of the world.
I'll think a lot about Rumtek. But maybe the islands are better. Ra bliss and ra penguins. The natural sounds and the wonderful sky. I could do that! Come on, Adolf! What else are you doing? Hope this one helps me. Hotboy. No, I don't.
9:45 a.m.
Had to check this to see what nonsense might be here! Blew it last night with the beer. I mean, Peckhams have got round the law which says you can't buy carry-outs after ten at night. I got three beers from there at half eleven last night, after I'd had my three beer quota. Is the joe who's making the decisions before the three beers the same joe afterwards? I think not. After three beers there was a joe who knew Peckhams would sell him so more! It's got to stop! Still, I feel fine today.
On the positive side, yesterday evening I went for a run through the beautiful, wonderful city of Edinburgh. There's a big park near here (where the allotments are) and if you run on the road round that, you're on the Ferry Road. The castle looks great from there. If you keep going, you turn down passed one of the entrances to the Botanic Gardens and you keep going. You'll reach the bottom of Dundas Street. You can see right up to Princes Street (the main road) and the Walter Scott Monument is sticking up at the top of the hills. There are about four hills on the way to George Street. You run a hill, then cross a road; run a hill, then cross a road. By the time you reach George Street, you can have knackered yourself completely. Then it's back down into Stockbridge where we live, passed the house where Robert Louis Stevenson was born. I used the address in Bomber, a thriller on my site. The run is about four miles.
Many thanks to Lee Ann for all the comments that kept arriving during the beer drinking! I'm going to see my mother today. It's only forty miles away, but the people are different. Working class and proud of it! The west is ra best!
35 visitors came to the blog yesterday. There's a spike like that every week. What does it all mean? I means I shouldn't post when I'm pissed!
At the end of the day we may imagine a fantastic kindness. It says don't worry. You drink too much. You take too many drugs. You may not be .... but we have loads of forgiveness and loving kindness so that doesn't feel too bad. If you meditate, you will certainly feel happier more often... after a while... but at the end of the day if you're in this existence .... where the changes are, might not be the best place to be.
Awareness and existence might mean you're going to get a spanking, but where else would you rather be?
I'd like to be on the Unheard of and McDonald Islands. Adolf, who is my agent in the Southern Oceans of ra bliss, should get this sorted out as soon as he decided he's got pots of money, but fung all to do. He should get me onto the Unheard of Island. He could do that. Cheap tv. Just pitch it to the moron. One guy reclaiming the island. Sitting quietly doing nothing. Feeds to Aussie once a month. Stand on my head. Do ra inexplicables. Rumtek, then the islands falling off the end of the world.
I'll think a lot about Rumtek. But maybe the islands are better. Ra bliss and ra penguins. The natural sounds and the wonderful sky. I could do that! Come on, Adolf! What else are you doing? Hope this one helps me. Hotboy. No, I don't.
9:45 a.m.
Had to check this to see what nonsense might be here! Blew it last night with the beer. I mean, Peckhams have got round the law which says you can't buy carry-outs after ten at night. I got three beers from there at half eleven last night, after I'd had my three beer quota. Is the joe who's making the decisions before the three beers the same joe afterwards? I think not. After three beers there was a joe who knew Peckhams would sell him so more! It's got to stop! Still, I feel fine today.
On the positive side, yesterday evening I went for a run through the beautiful, wonderful city of Edinburgh. There's a big park near here (where the allotments are) and if you run on the road round that, you're on the Ferry Road. The castle looks great from there. If you keep going, you turn down passed one of the entrances to the Botanic Gardens and you keep going. You'll reach the bottom of Dundas Street. You can see right up to Princes Street (the main road) and the Walter Scott Monument is sticking up at the top of the hills. There are about four hills on the way to George Street. You run a hill, then cross a road; run a hill, then cross a road. By the time you reach George Street, you can have knackered yourself completely. Then it's back down into Stockbridge where we live, passed the house where Robert Louis Stevenson was born. I used the address in Bomber, a thriller on my site. The run is about four miles.
Many thanks to Lee Ann for all the comments that kept arriving during the beer drinking! I'm going to see my mother today. It's only forty miles away, but the people are different. Working class and proud of it! The west is ra best!
35 visitors came to the blog yesterday. There's a spike like that every week. What does it all mean? I means I shouldn't post when I'm pissed!
posted by Hotboy at 1:24 AM
4 Comments:
Hotboy. This illiterate spam is tiresome. I don't want to sound picky, but the link to Bomber, arguably your best book, has never worked. Think of all the lost sales opportunities. No wonder we're not selling in Australia.
Hey Hotboy!
I can almost hear the accent through the words....
"Peckhams have got round the law which says you can't buy carry-outs after ten at night. I got three beers from there at half eleven last night,".
Edinburgh sounds beautiful, I still would hope to visit such a beautiful place someday. I love that word..."knackered". Well, gotta get myself ready for work. Hope your Friday is a good one. (What time is it there anyway?)
Thanks for the comment about Bomber. I never look at the site because I'm scared to in case it disappears in front of my eyes. Maybe it never works because it's often downloaded. Who knows? I'm going to start hustling Bomber now that I've got the kidbook contest almost set up. You've given me confidence, Adolf. BTW I changed the end. In the play and previous versions the boy shot himself in the head, but I thought I might leave the joe alive for a sequel. Was that alright for you? Are you wearing a kilt just now?
That's uncanny!
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