Ra Flying Scotsman!
Monday 9:00 p.m.
Glided to work today on the nazi bike; thought that's about six weeks since I've been doing this and it's no bother now. On the way home, I had to put on the waterproof jacket for the first time since it was raining, but that was alright as well. Much better than getting the bus. I was almost home when I thought I saw this big pothole full of water in front of me and hit the brakes. Whee! I flew right over the top of the handlebars and the bike came clattering down on top of me. But apart from the slight graze on my right elbow, none the worse for wear. A nice person came over to inquire as to my state of health. He looked well impressed.
Karma Dorje is my buddhist name. It means indestructible.
Read the fourth lecture of The Varieties of Religious Experience this evening. He was going on about the mind-cure movement; optimism, positive thinking and such like. Getting in touch with a divinity immanent in this world. He mentioned meditation and sitting quietly in quiet rooms, a bit of solitude to help you get in touch. Right up my street!
I remember writing a short story inspired by reading this book. It was the first one I'd ever written. (I think I've only ever written three or four!) The boy in the story ends up hanging from a cliff face until he can hang there no more. When he falls he lands on a ledge just below him. My eyes kind of popped open when I read the same thing in Lecture Four. I did not knowing rip this off.
"The idea that it may be made known that I was the author is the thought of a man not yet adult." The Dharmapapa. The wall.
The story was called The Eye of A Needle. The first sentence was, I think:
"I used to be a rich man, but I have a taste for dice, and now I keep a quiet inn down close by the shore." Really like that sentence. Don't know why. It was broadcast on Radio Scotland one Sunday evening right after the God slot!
I sent three emails out last week to agents about the sensei and reverend's book. Got a positive response today from Euan Thorneycroft who now seems to be with A. M. Heath. I'll be careful in the letter I'm going to send him to tell him that the sensei doesn't really write genre books, but this could be sold on as a crime novel. I guess to be counted as a commercial crime novel you'd want a chainsaw massacre, a bit of disembowelling, or at least a bloodfest of shooty shooty in the first chapter!
I sent an email a couple of weeks ago to the Shambala Sun, asking if they knew of any agents who handled buddhisty stuff. They suggested I contact The Shambala Press, Snow Lion and Wisdom Books and ask. None of them replied to the emails. Buddhist basturns!
Glided to work today on the nazi bike; thought that's about six weeks since I've been doing this and it's no bother now. On the way home, I had to put on the waterproof jacket for the first time since it was raining, but that was alright as well. Much better than getting the bus. I was almost home when I thought I saw this big pothole full of water in front of me and hit the brakes. Whee! I flew right over the top of the handlebars and the bike came clattering down on top of me. But apart from the slight graze on my right elbow, none the worse for wear. A nice person came over to inquire as to my state of health. He looked well impressed.
Karma Dorje is my buddhist name. It means indestructible.
Read the fourth lecture of The Varieties of Religious Experience this evening. He was going on about the mind-cure movement; optimism, positive thinking and such like. Getting in touch with a divinity immanent in this world. He mentioned meditation and sitting quietly in quiet rooms, a bit of solitude to help you get in touch. Right up my street!
I remember writing a short story inspired by reading this book. It was the first one I'd ever written. (I think I've only ever written three or four!) The boy in the story ends up hanging from a cliff face until he can hang there no more. When he falls he lands on a ledge just below him. My eyes kind of popped open when I read the same thing in Lecture Four. I did not knowing rip this off.
"The idea that it may be made known that I was the author is the thought of a man not yet adult." The Dharmapapa. The wall.
The story was called The Eye of A Needle. The first sentence was, I think:
"I used to be a rich man, but I have a taste for dice, and now I keep a quiet inn down close by the shore." Really like that sentence. Don't know why. It was broadcast on Radio Scotland one Sunday evening right after the God slot!
I sent three emails out last week to agents about the sensei and reverend's book. Got a positive response today from Euan Thorneycroft who now seems to be with A. M. Heath. I'll be careful in the letter I'm going to send him to tell him that the sensei doesn't really write genre books, but this could be sold on as a crime novel. I guess to be counted as a commercial crime novel you'd want a chainsaw massacre, a bit of disembowelling, or at least a bloodfest of shooty shooty in the first chapter!
I sent an email a couple of weeks ago to the Shambala Sun, asking if they knew of any agents who handled buddhisty stuff. They suggested I contact The Shambala Press, Snow Lion and Wisdom Books and ask. None of them replied to the emails. Buddhist basturns!
posted by Hotboy at 9:09 PM
5 Comments:
The nazi bike? Why do you call it that?
You are lucky you weren't hurt! Sounds like you might have enjoyed the flight!!!!
Karma Dorje, how did you come up with that name. Did you pick it or does someone else give it to you?
Lee Ann: My old bike was older than me and made up of bits and bobs. The new one is so trim and efficient... like a good suit compared to patched jeans. The nazis had the best uniforms!
Karma Dorje was the name on the card they give you when you take refuge. I was first up! Coincidentally, it chimes with my catholic confirmation name which as Peter i.e. the rock. Nice to hear from you as always. Hotboy
Whit's fer ye'll no go past ye, publishing wise. And for every door closing another opens etc etc. So they say, anyway. Mostly though, it's a relief that the bike tumble wasn't worse. Go well.
Ion: Discovered this morning that the chain had come off in the spill, so I got a bus today! Hotboy
That's the first time I've seen the word glided, but I suppose it's right enough. Good work!
Lucky escape with such a spill! Were you blissing at the time? That would help.
Some roughneck's probably given an old lady a doing with your chain.
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