Ra Post Swamp Day!
Friday 00:10 a.m.
Been watching A Clockwork Orange. Saw it first of all because as a student ... before I got serious about just hanging out with my droogie chummies ... I went to the pictures on a Saturday night. Then I saw lots of disquieting filmos which I did not reconnoitre properwise and was much disquieted. Saw the film before I read the book.
Anthony Burgess was introduced to me by Manuel Lopez, a Texican Mexican, whom I met in third year at Edinburgh University. Amazingly, seemingly dead thick Americans arrived on my history course then and one of them was Manuel Lopez. He has a part in Alma Mater, the book I wrote about Edinburgh University. Manuel was reading his way through everything Anthony Burgess ever wrote, the way you do when you're interested in writers and reading.
I'd like to take my hat off to Anthony Burgess!
I'd like to take my hat off to Manuel Lopez!
He was the first novelist I read all the way through!
I read the book of Clockwork Orange as me and my droggie chummies were bound across the great continent of Eurovideos when we were mere whelps after the uni days. What a great book!
It's time to remember why I wanted to write. I used to like reading great books, books that were beautifully written. How long ago that was! Today, I thought I'd like to read "The Varieties of Religious Experience", the first book I read about religion. It's a reproduction, if I remember right, of twelve lectures given in the Old Quad of Edinburgh University by William James, Henry's much smarter brother. Only then did I think it was a good thing to have gone to Edinburgh University. I think it set me on the road to the juju. He says you have to admit that the freest joes are those who don't want anything. I can remember fung all else about it.
I'm afraid it's all in the beautifully constructed paragraphs. That's all there is, Hotboy! Beautifully balanced paragraphs. I might have written seven of those and they were all in the third person, and they all took a long time to write.
The great thing about meditating is that you are not moderated by anyone. After we put the trip across Europe together after I left university, I realised that I wasn't really a team player. You think you can write on your own and so you can. Then you try to sell the wonderful writings, and you need someone else. This is the problem. Trying to convince people of something. Why bother? Why should you try to convince anyone of anything if you're not hungry? I suppose it's something to do.
I haven't written a book which is a mystical classic. I am a mystical classic. Do you know anyone else who can do ra bliss? Of course, you don't.
Alaister MacLean's books are all out of print. What I'd like to do is read my new book in ten years time and find it somehow amusing because it is a kind of snapshot of my mid-fifties life. Except it doesn't explain today. Nothing explains ra bliss. Why try to sell a book about ra bliss to a bunch of flatheids? Flatheids don't get ra bliss. But you can sell them beautifully written paragraphs. Everybody gets that. I used to want to do that. Write beautifully written paragraphs. That's not about getting published. As long as you're not starving, that's what you should try to do. Find a way to write beautiful paragraphs.
Friday 10:50 a.m.
Last night I blogged after road testing my new barrel of home brew. Nice beer. After four pints I'd become a mystical classic! Anyway, the first author I read all the way through was Richard Condon. When I was back in Bellshill after university, I asked this guy I knew in the local library to recommend an author to me since I didn't really know my way around the fiction shelves, and hadn't read many novels. He recommended Richard Condon. I really liked him and he wrote a lot of good books. I think he's best remembered for his worst ones.
I couldn't get Robert Dudley to read the novel or Annette K. Green. I think I made the mistake of telling them what it was about. I really don't like hustling.
I'm not going to Bellshill today because I think I've still got the remnants of the swamp fever. But it is a sunny day!
12:47 p.m.
Just read a further installment of how to go about getting shot and buried in an unmarked grave by the Tennessee cops in the sensei and reverend's blog. Journalists, ya bass!
Been watching A Clockwork Orange. Saw it first of all because as a student ... before I got serious about just hanging out with my droogie chummies ... I went to the pictures on a Saturday night. Then I saw lots of disquieting filmos which I did not reconnoitre properwise and was much disquieted. Saw the film before I read the book.
Anthony Burgess was introduced to me by Manuel Lopez, a Texican Mexican, whom I met in third year at Edinburgh University. Amazingly, seemingly dead thick Americans arrived on my history course then and one of them was Manuel Lopez. He has a part in Alma Mater, the book I wrote about Edinburgh University. Manuel was reading his way through everything Anthony Burgess ever wrote, the way you do when you're interested in writers and reading.
I'd like to take my hat off to Anthony Burgess!
I'd like to take my hat off to Manuel Lopez!
He was the first novelist I read all the way through!
I read the book of Clockwork Orange as me and my droggie chummies were bound across the great continent of Eurovideos when we were mere whelps after the uni days. What a great book!
It's time to remember why I wanted to write. I used to like reading great books, books that were beautifully written. How long ago that was! Today, I thought I'd like to read "The Varieties of Religious Experience", the first book I read about religion. It's a reproduction, if I remember right, of twelve lectures given in the Old Quad of Edinburgh University by William James, Henry's much smarter brother. Only then did I think it was a good thing to have gone to Edinburgh University. I think it set me on the road to the juju. He says you have to admit that the freest joes are those who don't want anything. I can remember fung all else about it.
I'm afraid it's all in the beautifully constructed paragraphs. That's all there is, Hotboy! Beautifully balanced paragraphs. I might have written seven of those and they were all in the third person, and they all took a long time to write.
The great thing about meditating is that you are not moderated by anyone. After we put the trip across Europe together after I left university, I realised that I wasn't really a team player. You think you can write on your own and so you can. Then you try to sell the wonderful writings, and you need someone else. This is the problem. Trying to convince people of something. Why bother? Why should you try to convince anyone of anything if you're not hungry? I suppose it's something to do.
I haven't written a book which is a mystical classic. I am a mystical classic. Do you know anyone else who can do ra bliss? Of course, you don't.
Alaister MacLean's books are all out of print. What I'd like to do is read my new book in ten years time and find it somehow amusing because it is a kind of snapshot of my mid-fifties life. Except it doesn't explain today. Nothing explains ra bliss. Why try to sell a book about ra bliss to a bunch of flatheids? Flatheids don't get ra bliss. But you can sell them beautifully written paragraphs. Everybody gets that. I used to want to do that. Write beautifully written paragraphs. That's not about getting published. As long as you're not starving, that's what you should try to do. Find a way to write beautiful paragraphs.
Friday 10:50 a.m.
Last night I blogged after road testing my new barrel of home brew. Nice beer. After four pints I'd become a mystical classic! Anyway, the first author I read all the way through was Richard Condon. When I was back in Bellshill after university, I asked this guy I knew in the local library to recommend an author to me since I didn't really know my way around the fiction shelves, and hadn't read many novels. He recommended Richard Condon. I really liked him and he wrote a lot of good books. I think he's best remembered for his worst ones.
I couldn't get Robert Dudley to read the novel or Annette K. Green. I think I made the mistake of telling them what it was about. I really don't like hustling.
I'm not going to Bellshill today because I think I've still got the remnants of the swamp fever. But it is a sunny day!
12:47 p.m.
Just read a further installment of how to go about getting shot and buried in an unmarked grave by the Tennessee cops in the sensei and reverend's blog. Journalists, ya bass!
posted by Hotboy at 12:19 AM
5 Comments:
Tell them about The Devils.
I'd say you've remembered the main point of the book. Koan for the day: I don't want anything, except to be left alone. But does that count as wanting something?
Was your trip at the same time as I was reading the same book under the covers in a German garage with Vinnie's girlfriend? That would date it to the end of your third year.
Burgess' Clockwork Orange is an amazing read sp. if you have a vague smattering of Slavic, and his 'Mouthful of Air' (non-fiction) was the book that first interested me in etymology. There you go. Hope you get another song in Bellshill.
Ion: Fabulous book! Always try to get kids at school to read it. Way better than the film! Song in Bellshill? Hotboy
Sorry- meant when you go next to Bellshill to see your mum, I hope she'll serenade you again as previously.
Ion: I see now! Hotboy
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