Rat Between Writings Bit!
Tuesday 9:10 p.m.
Hello, Jack the Spam Robot, you Masai Warriors, Martians and anyone from outer space fortunate enough to land on RaBlissBlog! Even flatheids are fortunate creatures since the jig is not yet up and they may one day begin to meditate and head for ra bliss! Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!
I don't have the idea in my head that I have to do anything anymore like ... write a book. As long as I don't read it and decide to re-write it, I'll be okay. Emanating as a deity has to be the focus now. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!
I wrote a letter to Teresa down at the Samye Ling today. I told her about developments with ra bliss ... in the great Vajrayana, the juju of jujus, you just keep getting more and more. It's just a breath away, a breath away, a breath away! And I said my motivations in writing the book were good and that I'd a big agent person who'd agreed to look at three chapters. I asked her to wish me luck. I didn't say bang the gongs, blow the horns and ring the bells to blast away the obstacles. But I think she'll get the drift!
I sent a copy to Beef McDuck, who said he'd mercilessly criticise it. That might be useful. Another copy has been sent to Adolf, but I expect to hear nothing of that since Adolf's flatheid is so far up his bottom that I'd never hear whatever it was anyway. I sent another copy to Michi Regier because she read Light in the Dark and, I think, The Buddha and the Big Bad Wolf (which could be hard work!). It's maybe too weird a book for her, but I had to send it as a courtesy because I was pleased she'd read Light in the Dark.
I had a look at Pat Kavanagh's client list again. Last night I flicked across a teevee show called Ruth Rendell's mysteries. That's one of her clients. Today "As I walked out one midsummer morning" by Laurie Lee came across my desk. I read this book when I was 26 years old and travelling on my own to perhaps stay in Amsterdam for a while. How much I liked that book! Anyway, she's the agent for his estate. John Irving, etc., etcetera. With a client list like hers, she won't have time to read my three chapters! But as you read down her client list, you might ask yourself which of these wonderful writers have ever experienced ra bliss. None. None of them. Zero. Zilch. Zippo. Well, would I rather be a rich and famous writer, like a better writer than Shakespeare, or be able to do ra bliss? Don't make me laugh!
Frankly, my dears, I don't give a damn! I don't need to get a book published! I don't need the money. Probably wouldn't make more than a grand anyway. I need less money. I'd like to give some money to the kiddo, but the kiddo doesn't look hungry to me. I'd like to give some money to the Samye Ling, but the Samye Ling will be there when I'm long gone. I'd like to give some money to the Domestic Bliss, but the Domestic Bliss is an independent professional wummin, the wonderful product of the feminism I so loved in the late sixties i.e. fung aff, Ah'm no doin' that! So I can't see anything in getting this book published for moi. Well, if I became a successful writer, I'd have to take to the hut and then go to Rumtek and ...what about the kids at school? I should just keep doing what I'm doing. It's happening anyway. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!
Hello, Jack the Spam Robot, you Masai Warriors, Martians and anyone from outer space fortunate enough to land on RaBlissBlog! Even flatheids are fortunate creatures since the jig is not yet up and they may one day begin to meditate and head for ra bliss! Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!
I don't have the idea in my head that I have to do anything anymore like ... write a book. As long as I don't read it and decide to re-write it, I'll be okay. Emanating as a deity has to be the focus now. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!
I wrote a letter to Teresa down at the Samye Ling today. I told her about developments with ra bliss ... in the great Vajrayana, the juju of jujus, you just keep getting more and more. It's just a breath away, a breath away, a breath away! And I said my motivations in writing the book were good and that I'd a big agent person who'd agreed to look at three chapters. I asked her to wish me luck. I didn't say bang the gongs, blow the horns and ring the bells to blast away the obstacles. But I think she'll get the drift!
I sent a copy to Beef McDuck, who said he'd mercilessly criticise it. That might be useful. Another copy has been sent to Adolf, but I expect to hear nothing of that since Adolf's flatheid is so far up his bottom that I'd never hear whatever it was anyway. I sent another copy to Michi Regier because she read Light in the Dark and, I think, The Buddha and the Big Bad Wolf (which could be hard work!). It's maybe too weird a book for her, but I had to send it as a courtesy because I was pleased she'd read Light in the Dark.
I had a look at Pat Kavanagh's client list again. Last night I flicked across a teevee show called Ruth Rendell's mysteries. That's one of her clients. Today "As I walked out one midsummer morning" by Laurie Lee came across my desk. I read this book when I was 26 years old and travelling on my own to perhaps stay in Amsterdam for a while. How much I liked that book! Anyway, she's the agent for his estate. John Irving, etc., etcetera. With a client list like hers, she won't have time to read my three chapters! But as you read down her client list, you might ask yourself which of these wonderful writers have ever experienced ra bliss. None. None of them. Zero. Zilch. Zippo. Well, would I rather be a rich and famous writer, like a better writer than Shakespeare, or be able to do ra bliss? Don't make me laugh!
Frankly, my dears, I don't give a damn! I don't need to get a book published! I don't need the money. Probably wouldn't make more than a grand anyway. I need less money. I'd like to give some money to the kiddo, but the kiddo doesn't look hungry to me. I'd like to give some money to the Samye Ling, but the Samye Ling will be there when I'm long gone. I'd like to give some money to the Domestic Bliss, but the Domestic Bliss is an independent professional wummin, the wonderful product of the feminism I so loved in the late sixties i.e. fung aff, Ah'm no doin' that! So I can't see anything in getting this book published for moi. Well, if I became a successful writer, I'd have to take to the hut and then go to Rumtek and ...what about the kids at school? I should just keep doing what I'm doing. It's happening anyway. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!
posted by Hotboy at 9:18 PM
13 Comments:
fung aff, Ah'm no doin' that!... what does this mean?
Anyway, as Scarlett would say ~ I will worry about it tommorrow!
Ra Bliss to you!
Lee Ann: I thought hard work killed my old man. He wasn't going to go on the dole. He had chronic bronchitis. He worked outside. In Scotland?! He had seven kids. Died at 52. I knew I just wasn't going to do that. "Ah'm no doin' that!" Fortunately, my female contemporaries being progeny of the evil ... I won't say it! thought there was some kind of liberation in working nine to five. But not down pits or on building sites. Dearie me! Liberation is getting your hands on the money. I'd tell the kiddo to get a man with money so she's got a lot of time to get into ra bliss, but she hasn't asked me yet! Always nice to hear from you, Lee Ann. Hotboy
You can give me the money as advance commission on the southern hemisphere sales.
Then I could afford a high-class dentist.
Have you forgotten? I was already into all that transcendental stuff, way back when you were still punching people's lights out as therapy. One day you'll catch up, but if the superiority complex helps you in the meantime, well that's fine with me. I can see how that would help.
HB - The OCD woman is looking for a man, and she owns a winery in NZ. That's no good to you is it? It would be the end of the meditations.
If there's time, I will of course go to see United 93 before I fly.
When you become rich and infamous after startling book sales and an astounding stay on the Times bestseller list...HIRE ME.
Om Mani publish - him HUM
sounds better if you say it
Om Money Publish ME HUM
Thats all. RaBliss.
Adolf! Heil! The comment didn't take again! But ... she likes cleaning toilets, she can cook ... She'd have to turn the winery into a brewery, but apart from that, tell her Hotboy is game! Hotboy is willing! I'm definitely cheaper than the normal joe! Tell her I need some help, a bit of mothering. Hotboy. p.s Is it your mum? In that case I'll grow a big beard and she won't recognise me from that time in the hut. Hopefully, the rope burns weren't permanent!
Adolf! Zeig! Did you pay someone for a secret magic word? I could make more money out of just selling single words then than trying to sell whole books! Okay, I'll sell you a secret magic word for half the price of the original. What a deal! This one won't work either, but ... okay, the secret magic word for today is MOOFT without the M. An expression of wonderment in the kiddo when she was small. That'll be ten percent off the top, please. Hotboy.
Heather: As soon as I'm rich consider yourself hired! You just have to sit quietly doing nothing. I'd pay you to do that, Heather, because you are certainly heading for ra bliss! Ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss! Hotboy
Dharma is the name of the company that put the Island together. It is part of the shows conspiracy.
My Ute - you're not suggesting the island is pure invention? Even the Hotbolla folk in the mountain caves know that the deity is responsible.
HB - It's not my mum, but it is great practice for the stultifying Fatherland.
If the word worked for the kiddo, I'll take it. Did she test it in Bavaria? Vorsprung durch Technik.
More to the point, is it guaranteed to work during a plummeting? That would help so much.
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