Rat Fortunate Creature!
Thursday 9:15 a.m.
Had ra bliss this morning lying flat in bed. I'm looking for contentment, equanimity. I can feel myself creeping into that zone. But I've got everything going for me over the next couple of days, and I've a holiday on Monday! How wonderful!
Stopping and starting when you're writing a novel is really not helpful. I've got to get into a routine with it now. Then there's the digging and planting, which looks like being a lot easier than I'd anticipated. Get to the dentist this morning, see my maw tomorrow, no other tasks. Yippee!
If you buy me for $1,000,000, of course, you get all the money I make from wonderful writings in the future, except for the stuff I've already given away. I've already promised two thirds of the fortune I make from the novel I can't get round to writing at the moment to someone else and the Samye Ling, so you can't have that. Other than that, you get all of me! (If you'd like to be my agent for this purpose, it's ten percent to you!)
9:30 p.m.
Setting the scene. The Dom Bliss is away for the evening and night, so it's just little old me here, Jack. I went out for the beers. First up is Baltika Classic, four the the price of 3, and then there's two Erdingers (they weren't in the freezer at Peckhams, and that's what I really wanted.)
The evil bourgeois are all going to hell. I have to count myself in that number. When I was a young prole, I grew to despise and have great contempt for the evil bourgeois. They were in my mind - since there was no middle class people anywhere near where I lived - managers, and joes with fat bellies in Pringle sweaters. I hated them. Middle class people do not understand this.
There is a community, or communities, in Bellshill. My maw was telling me about Andy today. He gives her CDs of Irish music. He goes hither and yon to do wee things for people, some of whom are housebound like my maw. He is helpful and, thus, could never qualify as an evil bourgeois.
The evil bourgeois have houses that are surrounded by fung off signs. They don't even like each other. They are in secret organisations. They believe in families, not communities. They subject their offspring to cruel toilet training regimes and are generally sadistic in their motivation.
I hate their complacency. I hate their stupidity. They are all going to hell because they think they are better. They think their anal retention makes them worthwhile. So the Dom Bliss asks me if I know this guy mentioned in the local paper.
A really good thing, among many other really good things, about becoming attached to the Meadowbank Boxing Club was being able to meet normal, working class people again. You don't see them where I was in Edinburgh. The person the Dom Bliss mentioned was called Davey. I did know him. His brother was murdered in Pilton last week. Seems to have been killed by a large stone. His two other brothers died from overdoses. I knew Davey when he was sixteen. He was a Scottish junior boxing champion. One night in Shotts, Shiva got him pissed when he was with us and not fighting that night. Great night. He was in the motor in case an opponent showed up for him.
The Domestic Bliss said the paper said that Davey had set up a boxing club in Pilton to help young people keep out of trouble. What have I done to help anybody? It's not as if I didn't know. It's not as if people didn't tell me. Essential evil bourgeois. Dearie me. Oh well, back to ra beer!
Had ra bliss this morning lying flat in bed. I'm looking for contentment, equanimity. I can feel myself creeping into that zone. But I've got everything going for me over the next couple of days, and I've a holiday on Monday! How wonderful!
Stopping and starting when you're writing a novel is really not helpful. I've got to get into a routine with it now. Then there's the digging and planting, which looks like being a lot easier than I'd anticipated. Get to the dentist this morning, see my maw tomorrow, no other tasks. Yippee!
If you buy me for $1,000,000, of course, you get all the money I make from wonderful writings in the future, except for the stuff I've already given away. I've already promised two thirds of the fortune I make from the novel I can't get round to writing at the moment to someone else and the Samye Ling, so you can't have that. Other than that, you get all of me! (If you'd like to be my agent for this purpose, it's ten percent to you!)
9:30 p.m.
Setting the scene. The Dom Bliss is away for the evening and night, so it's just little old me here, Jack. I went out for the beers. First up is Baltika Classic, four the the price of 3, and then there's two Erdingers (they weren't in the freezer at Peckhams, and that's what I really wanted.)
The evil bourgeois are all going to hell. I have to count myself in that number. When I was a young prole, I grew to despise and have great contempt for the evil bourgeois. They were in my mind - since there was no middle class people anywhere near where I lived - managers, and joes with fat bellies in Pringle sweaters. I hated them. Middle class people do not understand this.
There is a community, or communities, in Bellshill. My maw was telling me about Andy today. He gives her CDs of Irish music. He goes hither and yon to do wee things for people, some of whom are housebound like my maw. He is helpful and, thus, could never qualify as an evil bourgeois.
The evil bourgeois have houses that are surrounded by fung off signs. They don't even like each other. They are in secret organisations. They believe in families, not communities. They subject their offspring to cruel toilet training regimes and are generally sadistic in their motivation.
I hate their complacency. I hate their stupidity. They are all going to hell because they think they are better. They think their anal retention makes them worthwhile. So the Dom Bliss asks me if I know this guy mentioned in the local paper.
A really good thing, among many other really good things, about becoming attached to the Meadowbank Boxing Club was being able to meet normal, working class people again. You don't see them where I was in Edinburgh. The person the Dom Bliss mentioned was called Davey. I did know him. His brother was murdered in Pilton last week. Seems to have been killed by a large stone. His two other brothers died from overdoses. I knew Davey when he was sixteen. He was a Scottish junior boxing champion. One night in Shotts, Shiva got him pissed when he was with us and not fighting that night. Great night. He was in the motor in case an opponent showed up for him.
The Domestic Bliss said the paper said that Davey had set up a boxing club in Pilton to help young people keep out of trouble. What have I done to help anybody? It's not as if I didn't know. It's not as if people didn't tell me. Essential evil bourgeois. Dearie me. Oh well, back to ra beer!
posted by Hotboy at 9:19 AM
6 Comments:
HB - Good news that you're taking a well-earned rest. All work and no play makes a dull hotboy.
Is Andy his real name or an IRA code-name? It's good to know he's there to help, and not evil. All-or-nothing thinking makes you a buddha boy, not a tao boy.
Does this help?
About the murder by a large stone. Do you think there was maybe a human agent involved? I'll say this for the bourgeoisie, at least they know about individual responsibility. It could help you too. Complete the transition to middle class! Come on over, you're nearly there. Leave your evil side behind, it's one long affluent party over here.
What would help me is to know
what happened to the Burton Brew or whatever you made. Or did I miss the consumer test?
I drank the whole barrel and am a disgrace! Hotboy. Could you bring the euphoria police and get me away? Hotboy
Do you ever use candles or incense when looking for ra bliss?
I love the smell of vanilla or lavender candles.
Wow, Davey's brother was killed by a large stone? How bizarre! Then he had two brothers killed by overdoses...wow! That is unbelievable. Such bad luck!
Enjoy seeing your mom and enjoy your holiday.
LA - That's the first time I've heard it referred to as an overdose of bricks to the head.
HB - what was it like? PS my self-help crash course moderation could help you.
Lee Ann: i never use candles or incense whilst investigating ra bliss. But it might help.
Carsely: That is a fantastic cave! Book me in!
Adolf! Zeig! There was a human agent holding the large stone. He owed £500. Big money for the poor; nothing to the evil bourgeois!
I say!
Good grief. Davey's brother passed away involuntarily. What is good old Edinburgh coming to?
MM III
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