Ra Cyclists!
Sunday 1:00 p.m.
Wonderful bliss this morning in the lobby. Meditated from half ten till the back of twelve. Superb. Despite me, the meditations continue to develope brilliantly!
Brian Wilson showed up at five yesterday and we went cycling. There is an alternative Edinburgh of cycle paths which were once railway lines and we used these to get to Leith. Then we cycled along the shore way to Granton where we stopped at the Old Chain Pier Pub.
You can look out the window at the Forth and watch the lights come on over in Fife as darkness falls. Neither of us had lights on our bikes. I did not have any money. It should have been a safe wee outing on bikes to celebrate the Spring. Thought two pints max and we'll get out of here. Brian had to leave the pub to smoke fags. He had to go by the bar. Once he came back and plonked his false teeth on the table then pulled out this pig's face and started chewing ... well, I knew then that the jig was up.
He fell off the bike twice on the way back to Portobello. I fell off once, but he was in front and he'd just fallen off for the second time so I fell off in sympathy. Where are the polis when you really need them? Of course, I'd stuck with the real ale while he blitzed these vicious Danish lagers and I had to make sure he got home. I slept on the couch and cycled back to Stockbridge before eight o clock.
What a fortunate creature! How beautiful the town was this morning with the clear, clean light and the sun shining, the roads practically empty. I've got a slightly sore wrist, but have got all my fingers and toes, so I'm quite happy with that result.
I'm supposed to be hiding away, but had to go to this benefit on Friday. It was in St Paul's Church, up by Waverley Station, and had been organised by the kid's ex-boyfriend, who plays lead guitar in this band. Walked into the church hall and it's like a hellish vision of the jobbie. The place was full of pupils and ex-pupils from the school where I work. Totally unexpected. We were at least twenty five years older than anyone else there. Freaked, but I calmed down and started tanning the bottles of Bud. My partner asked me later if I'd noticed the girl who stood in front of me, patted down the back of her mini-skirt, then slowly bent down to pick up something invisible. Certainly not!
It's a lovely day. What a fortunate creature! What a fortunate, fortunate creature I am!
19:43 p.m.
I never mixed with the progeny of the evil bourgeois until I went to university. Shiva reminded me the other day that I said they were all just waiting for their parents to die and the trust funds to check in and all that rich stuff. I remember asking folk if they wouldn't pay for their parents to get bumped off so they could land in the money. The trouble with the evil bourgeois is that they practically live forever. But my money worries are over. Adolf has posted a photie of his mother. I'll get posters made and stick them around town. LOST OLD DEAR! If you spot her, ring this number. I'll hit her with Brian Wilson's creekit bat and run away. That'll be ten percent off the top, Adolf.
Adolf has posted a photie of me taken about a year and a half ago. I think I'm fifty three or four in it. He was doing things to my webpage. I can't remember what. It gets ten or eleven hits most weeks still.
Brian Wilson's son is in a band. One of the guitarists read Alma Mater and one of the kidsbooks. Seemed to like them. Fifteen, sixteen maybe. He's too young to be an agent. If I had his email, I'd still pester him though. Fifty fifty, kid, till you're rolling in it. Get rich quick. Use your initiative. Sell, sell. Then I wouldn't have to murder old dears.
Wonderful bliss this morning in the lobby. Meditated from half ten till the back of twelve. Superb. Despite me, the meditations continue to develope brilliantly!
Brian Wilson showed up at five yesterday and we went cycling. There is an alternative Edinburgh of cycle paths which were once railway lines and we used these to get to Leith. Then we cycled along the shore way to Granton where we stopped at the Old Chain Pier Pub.
You can look out the window at the Forth and watch the lights come on over in Fife as darkness falls. Neither of us had lights on our bikes. I did not have any money. It should have been a safe wee outing on bikes to celebrate the Spring. Thought two pints max and we'll get out of here. Brian had to leave the pub to smoke fags. He had to go by the bar. Once he came back and plonked his false teeth on the table then pulled out this pig's face and started chewing ... well, I knew then that the jig was up.
He fell off the bike twice on the way back to Portobello. I fell off once, but he was in front and he'd just fallen off for the second time so I fell off in sympathy. Where are the polis when you really need them? Of course, I'd stuck with the real ale while he blitzed these vicious Danish lagers and I had to make sure he got home. I slept on the couch and cycled back to Stockbridge before eight o clock.
What a fortunate creature! How beautiful the town was this morning with the clear, clean light and the sun shining, the roads practically empty. I've got a slightly sore wrist, but have got all my fingers and toes, so I'm quite happy with that result.
I'm supposed to be hiding away, but had to go to this benefit on Friday. It was in St Paul's Church, up by Waverley Station, and had been organised by the kid's ex-boyfriend, who plays lead guitar in this band. Walked into the church hall and it's like a hellish vision of the jobbie. The place was full of pupils and ex-pupils from the school where I work. Totally unexpected. We were at least twenty five years older than anyone else there. Freaked, but I calmed down and started tanning the bottles of Bud. My partner asked me later if I'd noticed the girl who stood in front of me, patted down the back of her mini-skirt, then slowly bent down to pick up something invisible. Certainly not!
It's a lovely day. What a fortunate creature! What a fortunate, fortunate creature I am!
19:43 p.m.
I never mixed with the progeny of the evil bourgeois until I went to university. Shiva reminded me the other day that I said they were all just waiting for their parents to die and the trust funds to check in and all that rich stuff. I remember asking folk if they wouldn't pay for their parents to get bumped off so they could land in the money. The trouble with the evil bourgeois is that they practically live forever. But my money worries are over. Adolf has posted a photie of his mother. I'll get posters made and stick them around town. LOST OLD DEAR! If you spot her, ring this number. I'll hit her with Brian Wilson's creekit bat and run away. That'll be ten percent off the top, Adolf.
Adolf has posted a photie of me taken about a year and a half ago. I think I'm fifty three or four in it. He was doing things to my webpage. I can't remember what. It gets ten or eleven hits most weeks still.
Brian Wilson's son is in a band. One of the guitarists read Alma Mater and one of the kidsbooks. Seemed to like them. Fifteen, sixteen maybe. He's too young to be an agent. If I had his email, I'd still pester him though. Fifty fifty, kid, till you're rolling in it. Get rich quick. Use your initiative. Sell, sell. Then I wouldn't have to murder old dears.
posted by Hotboy at 1:03 PM
9 Comments:
Once a wookie, always a wookie. It's so me. Hotboy
HB - what's a wookie? I could always Google it, but I don't care enough.
Could you write a book about young nubiles bending over to pick things up please? That would help me, and maybe you.
10% of nothing is still nothing. For years, the old dear has had one of these reverse mortgages, i.e. the mortgage company pays you regular money on the condition that they grab the house when you sadly kick it. The bourgeoisie are all doing it these days, to ensure the cupboard's bare when the progeny get to it. How do the peasants dispose of their estate?
Adolf! Heil! A reverse mortgage? I'd like one of them! No nazi gold stashed away then? The peasants haven't got estates to dispose of. That's why they're peasants. That should help. Hotboy
Adolf! Heil! How's about if I planted her in the allotment and I dressed up as her for the purposes of signing cheques and speaking to bank employees? A few personal details might help. Was she still goosestepping the last time you saw her? Hotboy
Sandy! Great photie. Definitely a close relation. Might be my brother, the one they don't talk about. Butch thogh. Definitely butch. Bit of an animal really. Hotboy
Hotboy, why were you guys falling off your bikes? Hope you are all right!
The photo is great. Do you still have the beard Hotboy? Wow, you can grow some face hair, huh!
Lee Ann: Cycling Whilst in Drunkenness is a good way to fall off a bike. It's in slow motion as well.You drink six pints of the vicious Danish lager and fall off your bike faster than your carer and psychiatric help, Hotboy, who has prudently stuck to the real ale. This is what you do when you have to exercise au naturel and not in a club. Dangerous as well. I always accept. But we could have died. Still, being long overdue ... Hotboy
Sandy, thanks, it's an eerie likeness. No waonder he switched to the monkish aesthetic.
HB - greetings! But what's with the link2blogs.com stuff on your template? I followed one link, it took me to a poem:
"You can't change the past,
but you can ruin the present
by worrying over the future.
Love...and you shall be loved."
Also, link2blogs in your pages keeps trying to open popup windows and place cookies. I don't mind, but I'm just letting you know in case you're actively aiming to piss off other people. That might help.
It's encouraging that you're still on for the bashing of the old lady. At the bank, just hand over some Black Forest Gateau as identification. That should help.
PS. 11 comments! I had to take my gear off to get numbers like that. If I grow the moustache back again, would that help?
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