Ra Furtherer and Furtherer!
6:50p.m. Saturday.
Adolf was saying he fancied going for a few vase breaths. Don't do it, Adolf! Look up kundalini disaster in Google before you even think about it. This stuff is dangerous. I think if you wanted to raise inner heat safely what you could do is imagine the red triangle symbol (pointing up. Put a moon disc on the top and a circle on top of that with a wee squiggle coming out of it.) in the navel chakra. When it gets hot (warmth should follow the mind), you could try and raise that up through your body.
I can't get near that, by the way.
Scotland are on the radio beating Italy 1-0 at the footie. I'm just out of the bath after doing the same run I did on Thursday. The view to your right when you're running along the Ferry Road is brilliant. The castle is on the horizon centre stage. To the left is Arthur's Seat, the remnants of an ancient volcano and there are landlocked cliffs before that called Salisbury Crags. In Alma Mater, a book a wrote about university, someone fell off that. That's not going to ruin it for anyone. Only me and Adolf and Gilliebabes have read that though Skinny McDuck was having a look the last time I saw him.
How about Bomber? Adolf says that's arguably the best book on the webpage. Psychic powers developing there on the Unheard of Islands since he couldn't download it but seems to have read it anyway. I'll need to start hustling it now because the kids might not like Light in the Dark and I need something else to be going on. Kids might not like chocolate biscuits. Anyway, here's the start of Bomber. Loved writing the opening sentence!
Speed kills, Sweik muttered to himself, his teeth rhythmically chomping on the chewing gum as he stood oddly stooped and stared with bulging eyes all about himself. It felt as if his brain had stopped, or as if he was listening for something. Then he t0ld himself he was tidying up the living room, took two paces and stopped again, just standing there, holding onto a dishcloth.
He told himself he was thinking, but he couldn't remember what he was thinking about. Amphetamine sulphate sometimes did that to you. It did much worse things as well, but after the first day or two, sometimes your brain felt frozen, stuck somehow between gears. So he muttered speed kills and snorted another line off the mirror which was on top of the teevee set by the kitchen door.
He was hoping for the trickles, streams, then rivers of thought to suddenly gush forth with crystal clarity, but he's been taking the speed now for three days and nights and should have known not to expect that, not anymore. But he'd remembered what he'd been thinking about.
Anyway, how about meditating in the Nullabor Plain? That's the middle of Australia. Since you are my agent in the Southern Hemisphere, Adolf, this one is up to you. You'll have to row from the Unheard of Island and get hold of the email addresses of the commissioning editors of the religious programmes, or documentary commissioning folk, or whatever. Get them to look at the blog. If the Nullabor Plain isn't handy, any old bit of desert in Australia will do. Tell them you want a sponsor. You'll get some cheap tv out of this. You have to get to me with your video camera once a week with the food and water. I'll levitate. You get to keep the footage. I shave off the beard, cut the hair and return to well deserved anonymity.
Kid in, Domestic Bliss out. So I can't hide in my room all evening. I'll go away for an hour or so and do some serious juju, then come back for more of last night. Ra bliss has been exceptional all day today. Done about four or five hours today so far. Good basis. Tonight is the night.
Anyone wants to read Bomber and has any bother downloading it from the site, just email me at madyamika2000@yahooDOTcoDOTuk.
9:40p.m.
The kid is watching Alexander the Great on a DVD in the kitchen. This is the living room. Noise blockers on. Main light on. This is RaBlissBlog. Set the controls for the heart of the sun.
I take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha.
To do this safely you should have a guru. You should be able to emanate as a deity in a mandala. You should have pride and radiance. You should have the three tubes and four symbols clearly defined in your body. I can do none of this very well at all. If I go on fire or go nuts, it's nobody's fault but my own.
This is for the solitary realising foe destroyers on the planet Zoggie. I'll sit here and blog intermittently. Sometimes you can't type because you go into another zone (in the Lord's house there are many mansions) and the sheath thing .... forget it! This is RaBlissBlog! Here comes ra bliss!
Eyes closed. First breath and you're right out of the box! The big globule inside you (and maybe a wee bit outside) lifts. Most sensations round the front of your face and across the front of your shoulders ... that's definitely a wee bit out there. Heartbeat is running ten seconds faster than usual, at about seventy beats a minute. But I'm an old man and that might be from the run today. Not sure. Great feelings of contentment possible here. Wish I wasn't blogging in a way. You feel the huge smile speading across your face. The great bliss seems to move a wonderful massage up the front of your body. I'll go again. Blog less.
Exquisite bliss! Imagine the deity over your head. A drop falls through the top of your head and down through the four symbols. Ra bliss and light (eyes closed) go way out! Do that again. Vase breath invigorates the massaging whatever it is.
10.10p.m. Slowly go down and curve like a hook. Slowly straighten the spine. The feeling even after that is far, far better than you can get from any drugs or combination of drugs that I've ever had, or ever will have. The air seems to be going very evenly up both nostrils. This is a very good sign. That one was warm, but I'm hardly trying. More of a moon shot. Just incredibly beautifully blissful. Maybe you could just leave it like that. But I will go further. Here comes the breath! Here comes ra bliss! Let's do it!
Body filled with ra bliss, especially towards the top. Heat in the head. Move up and down the symbols projecting the mantric syllables into the space in front of you. Eyes closed. This is ra bliss! Heartbeat normal now at 60 beats a minute. Curiously, when you do the vase breath, the pulse seems to stop. I haven't realised that before. The pulsing heat stuff going up your body seems to be the same as your heartbeat. It checks in and up comes the heat. Is that weird or what? I don't know. I'm just going to sit for a wee bit as this feels so wonderful. It's nearly 10:35p.m.
Then a great globule of ra bliss just seems to be in your chest area and rising.
You could sit in the wonderment and do emptiness juju on anything that arises. Solidly into ra bliss! Need some more. Just take a wee vase breath. I cannot express how good this feels.
I could try, but I'm going out for some beer. Then I'll jump about the blogosphere and just have fun like a very happy, happy joe. It's 10:50p.m. Where will you go for it, if you cannot get it from yourself?
12:45a.m.
The domestic bliss has come in and asked me not to mention her on this blog. Or the kid. She thinks someone is reading this who isn't a robot. Sometimes she thinks robots are trying to take over the machine. I was having a nice chat about Alexander the Great with the kid. Vague knowledge spoken through the Hoegaarden Grand Gru. 8.5% and a delicious beer. Three bottles. 33 cl bottles. Still, arising emotions and a not clear mind. So the flatheids who live here are now dead. The mother is now in Hades discussing traffic restrictions with other sad flatheids and the kid has gone to a Pure Land, having witnessed the crap wusses like me have to put up with.
Get me out of here, Adolf! I can do this juju! I really can! It is a fung miracle. Why it arrived on my doorstep I don't know.
This is RaBlissBlog. It's 1 a.m. I'm going to be too hot for the Nullabor Plain. Where are the penguins? Why aren't there any penguins around here.
2:50 a.m.
I wonder if this juju is making me a bit sensitive to people. Like, over-reacting. Maybe I'm not seeing enough people. But I was really happy this evening and have been all this long, long weekend until the flatheids started speaking to me. Maybe the three wee bottles of beer didn't help, but I'm trying to cling onto some kind of normality. Drink beer, watch a bit of the footie. Pretend to be like a flatheid as much as possible. I could just tell them all to fung off!
The reason why I'm not supposed to drink beer is because basically I'm skint, but I've a week's holiday in October and I need to have gathered about £150 to take my tent down to the wonderful Samye Ling. Drink beer, can't go!
Adolf is getting into secrets. Who cares if he's a cross dresser? I knew he was into perversions way back when. I blame it all on the public school ethos. All that ancient Greek stuff. All that watching people doing stuff. It definitely wasn't like that among the proletariat.
One night after the pub when we were having a smoke with some other students, Adolf asked me if I wanted a blow back. Hmm? I was very naive when I was twenty one, being a good catholic boy from an idyllic rural community called Bellshill. I asked him what a blow back was, as you might well. So he said he was going to blow into this joint and I was to suck up the smoke. Well, everyone had had a few drinks and, what with being a student and all, I said okay. A bit to my surprise he put the lit end of this rather big joint in his mouth and started to blow. I waited a half second then put my mouth round the other end of the joint, and, I must admit, that doesn't look all that heterosexual to me. So I gave it the usual big suck. It might have been because the room was a bit dim, but his teeth really lit up. Glowing joint end in the mouth clearly making the teeth pink, or pinky red. Pinky red is more heterosexual. Well, what a fuss! Squealing and coughing and spluttering and all that kind of thing. Shurely shum mistake, as James Bond would say. Didn't seem to cure him though.
22 visitors on Saturday; 21 on Friday; and 35 on Thursday. That's much more than ever; about a third more anyway. Spanking gets you here. And wet teeshirts. But this is RaBlissBlog. What a great weekend for ra bliss!
Adolf was saying he fancied going for a few vase breaths. Don't do it, Adolf! Look up kundalini disaster in Google before you even think about it. This stuff is dangerous. I think if you wanted to raise inner heat safely what you could do is imagine the red triangle symbol (pointing up. Put a moon disc on the top and a circle on top of that with a wee squiggle coming out of it.) in the navel chakra. When it gets hot (warmth should follow the mind), you could try and raise that up through your body.
I can't get near that, by the way.
Scotland are on the radio beating Italy 1-0 at the footie. I'm just out of the bath after doing the same run I did on Thursday. The view to your right when you're running along the Ferry Road is brilliant. The castle is on the horizon centre stage. To the left is Arthur's Seat, the remnants of an ancient volcano and there are landlocked cliffs before that called Salisbury Crags. In Alma Mater, a book a wrote about university, someone fell off that. That's not going to ruin it for anyone. Only me and Adolf and Gilliebabes have read that though Skinny McDuck was having a look the last time I saw him.
How about Bomber? Adolf says that's arguably the best book on the webpage. Psychic powers developing there on the Unheard of Islands since he couldn't download it but seems to have read it anyway. I'll need to start hustling it now because the kids might not like Light in the Dark and I need something else to be going on. Kids might not like chocolate biscuits. Anyway, here's the start of Bomber. Loved writing the opening sentence!
Speed kills, Sweik muttered to himself, his teeth rhythmically chomping on the chewing gum as he stood oddly stooped and stared with bulging eyes all about himself. It felt as if his brain had stopped, or as if he was listening for something. Then he t0ld himself he was tidying up the living room, took two paces and stopped again, just standing there, holding onto a dishcloth.
He told himself he was thinking, but he couldn't remember what he was thinking about. Amphetamine sulphate sometimes did that to you. It did much worse things as well, but after the first day or two, sometimes your brain felt frozen, stuck somehow between gears. So he muttered speed kills and snorted another line off the mirror which was on top of the teevee set by the kitchen door.
He was hoping for the trickles, streams, then rivers of thought to suddenly gush forth with crystal clarity, but he's been taking the speed now for three days and nights and should have known not to expect that, not anymore. But he'd remembered what he'd been thinking about.
Anyway, how about meditating in the Nullabor Plain? That's the middle of Australia. Since you are my agent in the Southern Hemisphere, Adolf, this one is up to you. You'll have to row from the Unheard of Island and get hold of the email addresses of the commissioning editors of the religious programmes, or documentary commissioning folk, or whatever. Get them to look at the blog. If the Nullabor Plain isn't handy, any old bit of desert in Australia will do. Tell them you want a sponsor. You'll get some cheap tv out of this. You have to get to me with your video camera once a week with the food and water. I'll levitate. You get to keep the footage. I shave off the beard, cut the hair and return to well deserved anonymity.
Kid in, Domestic Bliss out. So I can't hide in my room all evening. I'll go away for an hour or so and do some serious juju, then come back for more of last night. Ra bliss has been exceptional all day today. Done about four or five hours today so far. Good basis. Tonight is the night.
Anyone wants to read Bomber and has any bother downloading it from the site, just email me at madyamika2000@yahooDOTcoDOTuk.
9:40p.m.
The kid is watching Alexander the Great on a DVD in the kitchen. This is the living room. Noise blockers on. Main light on. This is RaBlissBlog. Set the controls for the heart of the sun.
I take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma and Sangha.
To do this safely you should have a guru. You should be able to emanate as a deity in a mandala. You should have pride and radiance. You should have the three tubes and four symbols clearly defined in your body. I can do none of this very well at all. If I go on fire or go nuts, it's nobody's fault but my own.
This is for the solitary realising foe destroyers on the planet Zoggie. I'll sit here and blog intermittently. Sometimes you can't type because you go into another zone (in the Lord's house there are many mansions) and the sheath thing .... forget it! This is RaBlissBlog! Here comes ra bliss!
Eyes closed. First breath and you're right out of the box! The big globule inside you (and maybe a wee bit outside) lifts. Most sensations round the front of your face and across the front of your shoulders ... that's definitely a wee bit out there. Heartbeat is running ten seconds faster than usual, at about seventy beats a minute. But I'm an old man and that might be from the run today. Not sure. Great feelings of contentment possible here. Wish I wasn't blogging in a way. You feel the huge smile speading across your face. The great bliss seems to move a wonderful massage up the front of your body. I'll go again. Blog less.
Exquisite bliss! Imagine the deity over your head. A drop falls through the top of your head and down through the four symbols. Ra bliss and light (eyes closed) go way out! Do that again. Vase breath invigorates the massaging whatever it is.
10.10p.m. Slowly go down and curve like a hook. Slowly straighten the spine. The feeling even after that is far, far better than you can get from any drugs or combination of drugs that I've ever had, or ever will have. The air seems to be going very evenly up both nostrils. This is a very good sign. That one was warm, but I'm hardly trying. More of a moon shot. Just incredibly beautifully blissful. Maybe you could just leave it like that. But I will go further. Here comes the breath! Here comes ra bliss! Let's do it!
Body filled with ra bliss, especially towards the top. Heat in the head. Move up and down the symbols projecting the mantric syllables into the space in front of you. Eyes closed. This is ra bliss! Heartbeat normal now at 60 beats a minute. Curiously, when you do the vase breath, the pulse seems to stop. I haven't realised that before. The pulsing heat stuff going up your body seems to be the same as your heartbeat. It checks in and up comes the heat. Is that weird or what? I don't know. I'm just going to sit for a wee bit as this feels so wonderful. It's nearly 10:35p.m.
Then a great globule of ra bliss just seems to be in your chest area and rising.
You could sit in the wonderment and do emptiness juju on anything that arises. Solidly into ra bliss! Need some more. Just take a wee vase breath. I cannot express how good this feels.
I could try, but I'm going out for some beer. Then I'll jump about the blogosphere and just have fun like a very happy, happy joe. It's 10:50p.m. Where will you go for it, if you cannot get it from yourself?
12:45a.m.
The domestic bliss has come in and asked me not to mention her on this blog. Or the kid. She thinks someone is reading this who isn't a robot. Sometimes she thinks robots are trying to take over the machine. I was having a nice chat about Alexander the Great with the kid. Vague knowledge spoken through the Hoegaarden Grand Gru. 8.5% and a delicious beer. Three bottles. 33 cl bottles. Still, arising emotions and a not clear mind. So the flatheids who live here are now dead. The mother is now in Hades discussing traffic restrictions with other sad flatheids and the kid has gone to a Pure Land, having witnessed the crap wusses like me have to put up with.
Get me out of here, Adolf! I can do this juju! I really can! It is a fung miracle. Why it arrived on my doorstep I don't know.
This is RaBlissBlog. It's 1 a.m. I'm going to be too hot for the Nullabor Plain. Where are the penguins? Why aren't there any penguins around here.
2:50 a.m.
I wonder if this juju is making me a bit sensitive to people. Like, over-reacting. Maybe I'm not seeing enough people. But I was really happy this evening and have been all this long, long weekend until the flatheids started speaking to me. Maybe the three wee bottles of beer didn't help, but I'm trying to cling onto some kind of normality. Drink beer, watch a bit of the footie. Pretend to be like a flatheid as much as possible. I could just tell them all to fung off!
The reason why I'm not supposed to drink beer is because basically I'm skint, but I've a week's holiday in October and I need to have gathered about £150 to take my tent down to the wonderful Samye Ling. Drink beer, can't go!
Adolf is getting into secrets. Who cares if he's a cross dresser? I knew he was into perversions way back when. I blame it all on the public school ethos. All that ancient Greek stuff. All that watching people doing stuff. It definitely wasn't like that among the proletariat.
One night after the pub when we were having a smoke with some other students, Adolf asked me if I wanted a blow back. Hmm? I was very naive when I was twenty one, being a good catholic boy from an idyllic rural community called Bellshill. I asked him what a blow back was, as you might well. So he said he was going to blow into this joint and I was to suck up the smoke. Well, everyone had had a few drinks and, what with being a student and all, I said okay. A bit to my surprise he put the lit end of this rather big joint in his mouth and started to blow. I waited a half second then put my mouth round the other end of the joint, and, I must admit, that doesn't look all that heterosexual to me. So I gave it the usual big suck. It might have been because the room was a bit dim, but his teeth really lit up. Glowing joint end in the mouth clearly making the teeth pink, or pinky red. Pinky red is more heterosexual. Well, what a fuss! Squealing and coughing and spluttering and all that kind of thing. Shurely shum mistake, as James Bond would say. Didn't seem to cure him though.
22 visitors on Saturday; 21 on Friday; and 35 on Thursday. That's much more than ever; about a third more anyway. Spanking gets you here. And wet teeshirts. But this is RaBlissBlog. What a great weekend for ra bliss!
posted by Hotboy at 6:50 PM
23 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Lophy! How long have I been waiting for you! This is Rablissblog, but can we do ra peyote. Please send me some. Also, some LSD. There will be three suns in the sky and a black bird will swoop into my heart and cleanse me. Oh, how I have waited for you Lophy. Get your credit card out and you can come with your throne and your tiger skins. I'll just do the peyote! Hotboy
Hotboy. If it's all the same I'd like to use yellow triangles for sentimental reasons.
Try to get Lophy into the bliss game while his/her blog is still a clean slate.
Do you think the robots are smart enough to read your stories about the allotment? Surely not.
I have an unspoken agreement with my partner not to mention her, except in a way that makes her look better than me.
I'd forgotten about the blowbacks. I live my life as an open book, so you have carte blanche to blog any memories involving me. I'm beyond embarrassment.
If you brewed your own beer, you wouldn't have to go out after midnight to buy it. Mind you, you'd need self control to leave it sitting there until you really need it. So keep buying the manufactured stuff, it probably works out just as cheap. Everything balances up in the end. I hope this etc.
Regards, Addie.
I only said it was arguably the best book, meaning somebody might argue that. I wouldn't. I haven't read it. Nor can anyone else except you - the link at your website leads straight to your C: drive. Did you ever consider fixing it?
All this is way above my head. Fixing stuff. If anyone wanted to read it, they could email me surely. I think I need a robot of my own for stuff like that. Hotboy
Doviko spent the whole morning tidying up the empties from yesterday's session with Helen. He's such a gem, and very considerate. Realised I had a 'bit of a head' and did it all very quietly.
The forthcoming cricket match between the Stockbridge Sloggers and the Shag Island Shooters will take up a lot of my attention in the coming days.
Takes me back to my days in Kassala, when we played the locals in the shadow of those superb jebels, in the days before the place became 'dry'.
MM III
The island with the Shooters beside the Unheard of Island is, of course, an unmentionable place round these parts. We call it the Island of Noggin the Nog. Hope this helps when the censor robots show up! Hotboy
Just a passing thought...have you tried to get anythin published by Shambhala (publishers) - or for their magazines (Shambhala Sun and/or The Dot) The Dot has the best subhead: Nothing Happens and we report on it.
Hey Hotboy! Spanking and wet tee shirts, eh? =)
You buddhists really do speak a different language.
Hotboy. Re: poisons. Have you told your readers where you got your start in the field of toxins research? Since your employment with Syntech, they have branched out into the synthetic urine business. Maybe the company could use some more input from you? I wouldn't have known there was a market for it.
Stephen Levine, author of Embracing The Beloved, called marriage "the ultimate danger sport."
People can learn more in a week in a relationship, he said, than in a year of meditation.
Adolf: No doubt in a relationship with a kamamudra with all the necessary qualifications I could learn an awful lot since I've only had about one and a half girlfriends in my entire life, but for guys with sore backs and a fistful of photies ... I doubt it!
Samsaramom: Shambala might have been contacted about The Buddha and the Big Bad Wolf, but if they can read, that's a problem! Also, the whole world knows more about Buddhism than me. I'll check out the DOT thing. That sounds interesting!
Lee Ann: If people come to my blog after sticking spanking or wet teeshirts into Google .... well, that's probably how Adolf found it, so I'm not knocking it!
Lophy: You must know all about juju if you're an old Ifrican hand. It's a blik thing, I think, and not at all like creekit (Is this a South African accent? Really?) Hotboy
A "blow back" in this area is called a "shotgun"!
Lee Ann: A shotgun? Anyway, never understood the point of it. I think that's why Adolf's teeth lit up the room!
Adolf: Syntech has a lab beside a place where Brian Wilson and I worked before Brian was able to afford a castle. You could volunteer for experimentation for money, a sliding scale. Brian needed money at the time and I got him info on getting irradiated. They would also stop your heart if you needed a couple of hundred pounds. I fancied joining the tests for central nervous system drugs (tranks and downers?), but they had queues for that. Fung students! They had all the fun! Hotboy
I've just found someone else's photograph of the jebel I was talking about. Its Jebel Toteel.
To be more specific, its here.
MM III
The Gerbill's range looks awesome, Mingin. I would like to go and stay there for a couple of years. How much would it cost and could you pitch up regularly with the suppplies? Of course, I would dedicate all the goodness to you. Even if you changed into someone else very quickly, it's the thought that counts. Hotboy
MM III. How many of you are there now? I enjoyed your link to all the popups. The map of Sudan is very fetching, they certainly know how to use colour in Africa. It reminds me of the plastiscine map of Africa I did in primary school, though of course most of the names have changed. Belgian Congo no more.
Do no straight people ever read this blog? It's a sad comment on the state of the western world.
Are you boys psychos?
Hotboy, you might like to consider yourself tagged
Sorry old beans - none of those photographs is actually of Jebel Toteel. Rather they show the views from half way up Toteel, over towards Eritrea.
Of course, it wasn't called Eritrea, in those days.
According to the record books, Toteel has never been climbed.
Heh, heh. That's what they know. Darn hard slog it was, though.
MM III
I say - bit of a bad show.
Yet another 'kiss and tell' story in the weekend 'T' supplement. This time about Pat, the daughter of Enid Lindeman.
The countess' sister was an old flame of dear Paw Paw, of course. I don't see the need to air all those old stories, myself.
Pat writes "Mummy told me she had slept with every officer in father's regiment" - well - hardly anything novel in that!
"...and at least five men committed suicide over her. One jumped overboard from a ship they were travelling on, and another blew himself up with explosives" - bit of an exaggeration - 'Bluey' was a sapper, after all.
MM III
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