Ra Fridays Child is a Complete Disgrace!
Friday 1|:45 p.m.
I had a good look at my hair last night later on and couldn't believe the bad condition it was in. I felt forced to rush down to Peckhams for some beers.
Despite this total failure of purification, today's meditations have been top drawer! I can't think of when they've ever been much better. Huge bliss and light, but not a lot of heat. Because of the beers last night, this has confused me a bit.
However, today I'm usually in Bellshill visiting my mother, but couldn't go as I've an appointment to get my ears syringed this afternoon. Before then, I might write the book or train, or just go back into the lobby. I think I'll do that first. Go back into the lobby and investigate the amazing bliss of this morning. Close your eyes and you're right there. This is ra bliss!!
8:55 p.m.
Lee Anne doesn't know what getting your ears syringed is. First time I went a bit deaf was when I was in my mid-twenties. I had a wonderful doctor at the time called Sam Lipetz. Stereotypical. Well, this boy was from central casting. You want someone to look like a wee jewish doctor with the brain the size of a planet, just call Sam. So he gets the syringe out. It's about the size of a regular bicycle pump. He's going to stick this in your ear and push tons of warm water from the syringe into your ear hole. I found this difficult to believe. So he gives it the gun and you've suddenly got stereophonics again. What was in the kidney bowl is hard to believe. Nobody ever pushed as hard as Sam. This was like getting your brain sand blasted. Brilliant though.
They've got a new thing now. You should get one. It's got a wee thin stick thing with warm water scooting out of it. It felt as if it was vibrating the last time. Maybe that was just me. The nurse has her thigh pressing against your arm and she's poking this thing into your orifice, and it feels really ... well, it's kind of sensuous because there must a lot of nerves round your earhole, or whatever. Also, the nurse is dead discrete so you don't see what's coming out of your head. That's good. Then she wipes your ear and everyone is happy. You can hear again.
It's really nice when folk help you like that.
The first time I got my haircut by a woman was in Majorca. She was very good looking. It was kind of outside under the awning. She kept touching my arm with her thigh, then moving round and doing the other arm. Best haircut I've ever had.
Weihenstephaner Hefe Weissbier. There's a new drug in town called HNT. Adolf's been taking some. It reaches the parts other drugs don't. And makes them edible to monkeys. Stay well clear!
After posting earlier, I went back into the lobby. So much bliss. Your brain goes alpha apparently so that time seems to pass quickly. You've got no time for anything else. That was the writing time. Then I decided to do some physical jerks. Last night I had six beers. I am 54 years old.
Jack Dempsey eat your heart out! When you put in a lot of yin, you should get out a lot of yang. I felt great. Sometimes physical jerks are so enjoyable. Sometimes maybe not. But today it was superb. I found it hard to believe. I was expecting a bit of a spanking for being a bad boy with the beers last night. It's so re-vivifying and reassuring. This is the fat basturn, beer monster reduction vehicle, exhilerating training benchmark. It's six twos. You've got on the ski hat and the teeshirt, three layers of sweatshirts, two bin bag liners (plastic bags), and a crochet kind of woollen jumper on top.
When the music thing worked, there used to be loud rock and roll. You get the room warm.
Shadow boxing earlier in the day, figured I was ready for Cassius Clay.
Was anyone ever as wonderful as Cassius Clay?
You skip for ten minutes. Shadow box for two minutes. This means simulating fighting. This is highly aerobic. You take half a minute to put your hands down if you like, but you don't stop dancing around the room. Do that six times. It's a benchmark. I think they brought in this standard of fight for ... where is the sensei? He knows about boxing! ... novice professionals maybe. Anyway, in my early forties, I'd been doing six threes with twenty press ups, sit ups and squat jumps between each round ... that was one of the times I tried to stop smoking in my early forties.
What I'm trying to say ... my shadowboxing isn't what you see professional boxers doing to cameras. I started doing it before my first fight in the lobby with Jared timing the rounds. Sex Pistols on the stereo. Today if you saw me, you might have thought: the fat basturn can box. But I can't box. I look as if I can box. With my shadow. It is a very good benchmark though. Not as good as six threes, etc. I love training. This guy saw me running round the park. He asked me about it. I said I was training. He'd played rugby. He said training for what? No, just training.
When I was speaking to Shiva yesterday, I realised it was only about a year and a half ago that I walked off the job and took to the allotment for most of the next ten weeks. And the breath became connected to ra bliss. At least, sometimes. The head spaces being investigated by the joe in the allotment aren't the same as the head spaces being investigated now. Despite being a pisshead for the last while, and loving that, I must say (We are the bad boys from Kham! We are not quite in balance yet!) the juju works, kind of by it's own accord. You can stand in the way by drinking beers and such, but I've sat doing juju today for about seven or eight hours. This is RaBlissBlog. You should get into ra bliss. Learn how to sit.
Ah'll be back! I wish I was calmer. I started off way off the scale. But I'm going to drink some beers. Bad boy! But this is the HotboyMadyamikaSurfingTheOceansOfBliss, but still trying to find the tao.
I had a good look at my hair last night later on and couldn't believe the bad condition it was in. I felt forced to rush down to Peckhams for some beers.
Despite this total failure of purification, today's meditations have been top drawer! I can't think of when they've ever been much better. Huge bliss and light, but not a lot of heat. Because of the beers last night, this has confused me a bit.
However, today I'm usually in Bellshill visiting my mother, but couldn't go as I've an appointment to get my ears syringed this afternoon. Before then, I might write the book or train, or just go back into the lobby. I think I'll do that first. Go back into the lobby and investigate the amazing bliss of this morning. Close your eyes and you're right there. This is ra bliss!!
8:55 p.m.
Lee Anne doesn't know what getting your ears syringed is. First time I went a bit deaf was when I was in my mid-twenties. I had a wonderful doctor at the time called Sam Lipetz. Stereotypical. Well, this boy was from central casting. You want someone to look like a wee jewish doctor with the brain the size of a planet, just call Sam. So he gets the syringe out. It's about the size of a regular bicycle pump. He's going to stick this in your ear and push tons of warm water from the syringe into your ear hole. I found this difficult to believe. So he gives it the gun and you've suddenly got stereophonics again. What was in the kidney bowl is hard to believe. Nobody ever pushed as hard as Sam. This was like getting your brain sand blasted. Brilliant though.
They've got a new thing now. You should get one. It's got a wee thin stick thing with warm water scooting out of it. It felt as if it was vibrating the last time. Maybe that was just me. The nurse has her thigh pressing against your arm and she's poking this thing into your orifice, and it feels really ... well, it's kind of sensuous because there must a lot of nerves round your earhole, or whatever. Also, the nurse is dead discrete so you don't see what's coming out of your head. That's good. Then she wipes your ear and everyone is happy. You can hear again.
It's really nice when folk help you like that.
The first time I got my haircut by a woman was in Majorca. She was very good looking. It was kind of outside under the awning. She kept touching my arm with her thigh, then moving round and doing the other arm. Best haircut I've ever had.
Weihenstephaner Hefe Weissbier. There's a new drug in town called HNT. Adolf's been taking some. It reaches the parts other drugs don't. And makes them edible to monkeys. Stay well clear!
After posting earlier, I went back into the lobby. So much bliss. Your brain goes alpha apparently so that time seems to pass quickly. You've got no time for anything else. That was the writing time. Then I decided to do some physical jerks. Last night I had six beers. I am 54 years old.
Jack Dempsey eat your heart out! When you put in a lot of yin, you should get out a lot of yang. I felt great. Sometimes physical jerks are so enjoyable. Sometimes maybe not. But today it was superb. I found it hard to believe. I was expecting a bit of a spanking for being a bad boy with the beers last night. It's so re-vivifying and reassuring. This is the fat basturn, beer monster reduction vehicle, exhilerating training benchmark. It's six twos. You've got on the ski hat and the teeshirt, three layers of sweatshirts, two bin bag liners (plastic bags), and a crochet kind of woollen jumper on top.
When the music thing worked, there used to be loud rock and roll. You get the room warm.
Shadow boxing earlier in the day, figured I was ready for Cassius Clay.
Was anyone ever as wonderful as Cassius Clay?
You skip for ten minutes. Shadow box for two minutes. This means simulating fighting. This is highly aerobic. You take half a minute to put your hands down if you like, but you don't stop dancing around the room. Do that six times. It's a benchmark. I think they brought in this standard of fight for ... where is the sensei? He knows about boxing! ... novice professionals maybe. Anyway, in my early forties, I'd been doing six threes with twenty press ups, sit ups and squat jumps between each round ... that was one of the times I tried to stop smoking in my early forties.
What I'm trying to say ... my shadowboxing isn't what you see professional boxers doing to cameras. I started doing it before my first fight in the lobby with Jared timing the rounds. Sex Pistols on the stereo. Today if you saw me, you might have thought: the fat basturn can box. But I can't box. I look as if I can box. With my shadow. It is a very good benchmark though. Not as good as six threes, etc. I love training. This guy saw me running round the park. He asked me about it. I said I was training. He'd played rugby. He said training for what? No, just training.
When I was speaking to Shiva yesterday, I realised it was only about a year and a half ago that I walked off the job and took to the allotment for most of the next ten weeks. And the breath became connected to ra bliss. At least, sometimes. The head spaces being investigated by the joe in the allotment aren't the same as the head spaces being investigated now. Despite being a pisshead for the last while, and loving that, I must say (We are the bad boys from Kham! We are not quite in balance yet!) the juju works, kind of by it's own accord. You can stand in the way by drinking beers and such, but I've sat doing juju today for about seven or eight hours. This is RaBlissBlog. You should get into ra bliss. Learn how to sit.
Ah'll be back! I wish I was calmer. I started off way off the scale. But I'm going to drink some beers. Bad boy! But this is the HotboyMadyamikaSurfingTheOceansOfBliss, but still trying to find the tao.
posted by Hotboy at 1:39 PM
4 Comments:
My Dear Hotboy,
Hair-washing and ear syringing - exciting stuff!
hotboy ~ what is "ears syringed"?
Salutations Hotboy. I know my HNT was a bit edgy, but are you perhaps taking your postmodern writing a bit far? I mean I understand that literally anything can be a text, but for your first effort maybe you should try something a bit less ambitious than public transport ("I might write the book or train").
Another thing - are you sure 6 beers counts as physical jerks? The wrong kind of 6-pack.
Okay, that was the pedant's humour for today, now to be serious.
I don't do shadow-boxing, my shadow's too scrawny to see. But I sometimes do skipping. Not macho Cassius Clay skipping, but fairy skipping on alernate feet, we used to do it in my jazz dance days, it can really get the heart going. It needs a lot of space, like a big living room, or a house with lots of connecting doors so you can do a circuit.
I agree with you, it is nice of people to help you in the orifice department. Colonic irrigation is one of the few treatments I've never had. Can you recommend it?
LA - this syringing will happen to you too when you get older, just like hairy ears and a bald head. Not to mention the changes in the trouser department. If you need more details ask hotboy.
I need to go off and suck up to some other bloggers who were good enough to visit my place, sorry if this comment's a bit short.
PS - you probably already know this - don't try the fairy skipping outdoors, at least not in Scotland.
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