Ra Hut Management Resolution!

Wednesday 11:00 p.m.
After this, it will be different! Shiva goes to the Holy Land tomorrow. I gave up a lung. On Saturday with Brian Wilson, I saved a lung, but gave up a liver. Tonight, well, it's for me, so I just gave up. Because .... the Domestic Bliss is going to be around infrequently till Monday and all my plans are simple. Forward! Forward! No, no, no! Retreat! Retreat! Anyway, on the fourth day, he fell off the wagon again! But what a vista in front of me, what bliss there will be!

I want to be a catholic. I was baptised a catholic. I was confirmed a catholic. It's a universal thing. That's what catholic is. Universal. I was doing Hinduism with Shiva today. Hinduism is catholic. Mysticism is catholic. To be catholic ... it's very hard to be catholic. I don't think it can do it though I am it.

I babbled to the tim nun today. Sister Mary Rose. Irish nun and when were they ever anything else but Irish nuns. She asked me when I got ra bliss. I said most times these days I get it very shortly after I close my eyes. There is ra joe. Then there is ra deity. Then there is ra bliss. Just go to ra bliss. She said I was an unusual person.

The only nun ... this is supposed to be catholicism.... the faith schools. Give me those little basturns. The Peking Circus would have nothing on this school. You don't get ... the first step is ra bliss. What is ra bliss? Do you get it? No? Failed. Try next year. The Stalinist five year plan for ra bliss and the flatheids.

Shiva has turned into a Scottish nationalist. We should be rising above the waters of global warming, the only high ground around. Of course, we should not be killing Iraqis. We should surrender to the invaders. It's a girl thing. Do they have nice eyes? Yea, surrender to the dudes with the nice eyes.

Ranother Day Three!

Tuesday 9:30 p.m.
Alexandra David-Neel, the fabulous French woman who wrote the wonderful books about Tibet, maybe told about yogis wandering around the brass monkey Himalayas dressed in cotton nightdresses and bugger all else. She said after a while the inner heat stuff equalised out and you'd just be warm enough to combat whatever cold there was outside.

I'd love to walk about Edinburgh comfortably warm in the cold days of winter wearing just a Marks and Sparks teeshirt. See me? Ah'm hard, Ah am. So Ah am!

Well, I spent the half hour lunchbreak today hiding away in an empty lecture hall, checking out ra bliss. Oh, what bliss there was today! The odd vase breath was blowing me away. I now seem to exist sometimes in two spheres. When I close my eyes, I've got ra bliss and all that indescribable stuff, and when I open them, there are all the flatheids!

It says in the books that you should just let go.... just did a wee breath ... sail away, sail away!

I can do it, Jack! Are you scared, Hotboy? I try not to be, Jack. I think it's benign. It's a great beneficence whatever it is being uncovered by this vajrayana juju. There's no point in being anxious now anyway. It happening. How can that be? How can it seem to be getting better and better week on week? Oh well, if I have to live a large part of what's left of my life blissed out of my face, then so be it!

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the most fortunate creature of them all? It's got to be you, Hotboy! Yes, Jack, it's got to be me! Oh, what a fortunate, fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!

Ranother Day One!

Sunday 1:40 p.m.
The barmaid ... who was pretty beyond belief due to being about twenty and with no wrinkles at all ... asked me if the Guinness tasted any different extra cold. What a nice smile she had! I was just about to ask her to marry me when Brian Wilson came back into the bar, and she ran away. Due to drinking two bottles of the plonko collapso the night before, Brian's conversational mode was not dissimilar to that of the headhunters in Papua New Guinea. He didn't look you in the eye at all, and the words came out in huge long streams, mainly acronyms, which you knew it was pointless to try and interupt. Still, seen one penis gourd, seen them all. Brian Wilson has started to look a bit scary, like Mr Burns out of the Simpsons except much, much older. The moaning and the groaning, the clinging and the craving;old flatheids are just so depressing. They're just never going to get ra bliss!

But this is RaBlissBlog! Hello, you Masai Warriors, aliens from Outer Space, and the Holy Ghostie Men! There's been another development in ra bliss! It happened in the teenage dancehall, called Cabaret Voltaire, where Brian Wilson took me to listen to his son playing in a band contest. I closed my eyes and did the tadasana. Oh, how ra bliss arose! The entire body seemed electrified and beaming within a whole body envelope of ra bliss! It was under the feet and over the head and both sides back to front. Even the racket from the band made no difference to it! Unfortunately, Brian Wilson insisted on trying to talk to me. There's really no point in talking to old flatheids. They're too dumb to meditate and will never get ra bliss.

Lovely wintery day outside. I'm off to the allotment for further investigations into ra bliss! Despite the beers last night (bad boy!), the meditations from half nine this morning have been just superb!

11:25p.m.
Yesterday, after the shadow boxing was over, I weighed just under twelve stone. Today, after the shadow boxing was over, I was bang on twelve stone. That's a loss of six or seven pounds in three weeks. Don't pick a fight with me now, Jack. Just don't.

Ra Back to ra happy clappy!

Friday 4:40 p.m.
I got back on the bike today to go to work ... some overtime. On the way back I was feeling so exuberant that I decided to tackle The Big Hill. The big hill is called Clermiston Road and that's in Costorphine. I used to run up it quite a lot with Brian Wilson and the Big Jambo. No chance! Running up that hill is much easier than cycling it. But I'll have to do it now, won't I? Some day. Otherwise, I won't be able to look Lance Armstrong in the eye. Sandy is a proper cyclist. Can you cycle up yon hill, Sandy? Dearie me! I knew I was a wimp!

According to Adolf's blog, someone else has read Alma Mater! That might take the readership up to six people. I tried to find my page using google yesterday and couldn't without sticking in the page title. The readership of that book is liable to stay a very select group!

Weird week! The tea and muffins at the weekend must have given me brain damage. Three nights in a row I wakened up after vivid dreams. This morning I wakened at half two and was meditating most of the time till I usually get up.

In the second dream of this series, I was at a teenage dancehall in Craigmillar. Three psychos were menacing me about something I had done to one of their friends and I got out of the situation (after I realised I unable to hit them)(I've never hit anyone outside a boxing ring... well, once when I was 17, but I don't think I did any damage!) by apologising profusely. I really enjoyed the apolgising bit. I'm better at that than hitting folk!

Before I went to uni, I used to frequent teenage dancehalls in Bellshill. When the Marmalade played there, the girls launching themselves at the stage kept all the bouncers busy. Anyone who wasn't recognisably from Bellshill had a hard time that night. I well remember the tufts of hair with the bit of skin attached lying on the floor. The man at the back said everyone attack and it turned into a ballroom blitz! They were never fed to fight in Craigmillar, as the auld maw used to say!

In the dream last night, I was dresssed for shadow boxing and was going to do some sparring with my wee brother. Not an unenjoyable dream either!

It's five to five and darkness is beginning to enfold the city. We just had a beautiful sunset over to my left. I can meditate now, and all tomorrow, and all Sunday. What a fortunate, fortunate creature I am!

Saturday 1:35 p.m.
During one week in February 2005, I was sitting in the Samye Ling when a thought suddenly came into my head. Pop! I thought that the American I'd most like to meet was Arthur Miller i.e. the American I most admired was Arthur Miller. (I don't have much admiration in me!) When I got back to civilisation, I discovered that he'd just died.

Last night I went to see All My Sons at the Lyceum en famille. It was Friday night, but the theatre wasn't full. The play was much better than I expected. When I read it a long time ago, I thought it was a bit so-so for Arthur Miller. Maybe Guernica was a bit so-so for Picasso! The kiddo loved it as well. If you'd ever tried to write a play, you'd take your hat off to Arthur Miller, so you would!

Shame about him not getting any of ra bliss, but that's flatheidedness for you!

Rat Crabbitness!

Wednesday 11:02 p.m.
Beerless for three days and how crabbit can you get? Last night I woke up about four a.m. and consequently slept for three hours after getting home from work. This was the afternoon I was supposed to clean up my room. I almost cleaned it up last summer ... you can be too tidy, you know! ... and I've been dead crabbit ever since. Apart from when I'm meditating, of course, when I'm getting completely blissed out of my face!

Ra Karmapa Controversy!

Wednesday 6:30 p.m.
In nearly two years of blogging about ra bliss, I haven't posted anything about the Karmapa controversy. But a couple of days ago Kristiane left a comment on the bloggy about having an experience at a stupa in Spain. I put stupa and Spain into google and up comes the biggest stupa in Europe. Didn't know about that. Then I find out that these joes are with the other Karmapa and my heart sank.

For those of you fortunate enough not to know about this total scandal and disgrace, two Karmapas were recognised. The Karmapa is the head of the Karma Kagyu, the sect I'm kind of part of. This is the first Karmapa to be recognised since the 16th Karmapa fled Tibet.

So in the first instance these high ranking Kagyus get to show their super-mundane powers, as it were, they can't even agree on who the next Karmapa is! If this is not a scandal and a disgrace I don't know what is! These two Karmapas aren't kids anymore. They're in their twenties. And how awful it's going to be for the one who isn't the Karmapa after all. Anyone who has had anything to do with provoking this shambles deserves a good kick up the arse, and I don't care who it is or what kind of supernatural powers they're supposed to have.

The Karmapa is alleged to be able to imprint stones with his hands and feet. So what's the problem? Let's see the stones.

Maybe you're not supposed to let shit like this bother you. When I was a catholic, I was told not to pay any attention to the Popes who were obvious rogues, even although they are supposed to be infallible! Well, that did bother me, but I'm trying not to let this Karmapa shit bother me.

The Karma Kagyus don't own meditation. They claim skillful means and I think they may be right. But St Teresa of Avila was obviously a saint (read The Interior Castle!) and she went down the path using Jesus Christ. Of course, her only problem was with her superiors in the church!

At the end of the day, there are no Karmapas, there is no dharma, and there is no Hotboy, and there is neither this nor that!

My advice to anyone is get down to ra bliss! All I know about is ra bliss and ra bliss is not the endgame, but it's on the way. If you don't like all this buddhisty juju, that's no reason not to meditate and get down to ra bliss.

If you want to focus on an image, I'd go for the photie on the Turin Shroud. That's been shown by carbon testing not to be Jesus Christ, and since things are supposed to exist and not exist at the same time, it's probably better that it's not the "real" Jesus Christ. This is a mind game! In the movie I want to be played by the young Peter O' Toole. He'd make a much better Hotboy than me!

Ra Day Two Again!

Tuesday 10:05 p.m.
I went to visit Adolf last night in my dreams. He stayed in a kind of commune. There was a party going on and all the wee rooms in this subterranean kind of place were full of very good looking, intelligent, young women who all seemed to want to have sex with me. The dream was very vivid (not lucid!) and seemed to go on for ages. Normally, if I ever remember erotic encounters in dreams it's because something a bit weird started going on, or whatever. Not this time. It was a very pleasant dream. If I ever am able to control my dreams, I might go back there!

I sent off some emails today, trying to hustle up a literary agent for the sensei and reverend. They went to David O'Leary, Jenny Brown and Allan Guthrie. The later said he was into crime noir. David O'Leary phoned me up once. It's much better trying to get someone else an agent than trying to get one for yourself.

This morning on the bus, I had just settled in as it took off from the stop on Princes Street. This means my knees were up on the seat in front; my bag was clutched to my chest and encircled by my arms, the hands tucked into the sleeves. Just started meditating when this kid interupted me and said she'd a book to return. Jacqueline Wilson's Tracy Beaker. Some kids don't seem to realise you wouldn't go if the buggers didn't pay you. You can't say I'm not working yet. I said thanks very much and took the book.

Half an hour or so later, the bus turns at PC World in Costorphine and you open your eyes. The Pentlands were dusted with snow. The sun was just about to come up down to the left around about Portobello, I suppose. I did look rather nice.

Ra Day One Again!

Monday 10:35 p.m.
By the time I got to Ayrshire on Saturday, the folk I was visiting had turned into born again Christians, so it was out with the hymnals, tea with muffins and early to bed. Thank God for that! Otherwise, I might have enjoyed myself.

I felt a little peculiar being with normal people at first. No, I felt positively weird. I'm on my own with this juju and it feels as if it's separating me somehow. No one else I know is on this trip. And today at work I could feel the changes even in the last week. I got warmth in the vase breathing straight away this morning. I said to myself: You can raise inner heat, Hotboy. You can't dry off wet blankets, but you will be able to do that soon enough. Everything is developing slowly but surely.

We had visitors last night when we got back home from the wild west and I felt so fashed and bashed that I went out for some beers. Tea and muffins can really kick the shit out of you! And on the twelve day he got pissed! Still, the relapse is all part of the cure and I'm back on the wagon again tonight. But I just close my eyes and ra bliss is there. I felt quite sorry sometimes for the folk I was with since they do not get ra bliss. It's a real shame that everyone doesn't get ra bliss, so it is.

The boy who's brain exploded last year was there. His head swelled up to twice its normal size and he couldn't see because his eyes went cockeyed. Factor in the fantastic pain and what a day that must have been!

Rat Bandit Country Again!

Saturday 12:40 p.m.
This is RaBlissBlog! Over the last eleven days on the planet with no beer, I must report phenomenal improvements in ra bliss. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss! Yesterday, I must have put in eight or nine hours on the cushion, so I've been doing the work and getting the benefits.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. And Hotboy too!

At this delicate moment when ra bliss is beaming and ra heat goes mushy mushy up the body, I have been called out to do missionary work at a soiree in the wild west, that bandit country known as Ayrshire. I think yes and no and dearie, dearie me! We may be kidnapped by the Bolivian Marching Band, or forced to outpace Benny's Midnight Runners, and for sure Emazing Eric from Eindhoven is bound to be in attendance. Since I may be unable to make my excuses and leave at the appropriate moment, I'm taking my own heart defibrillator with me in case I need a jump start, and some members of the Australian Ladies Volleyball Team to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation when necessary. After hiding away, it's all bound to be too much for me. Oh, the ladies of the harem of the court of King Caracatus were just passing by! As long as they don't start falling out of their dresses and frolicking about when the juice kicks in, I should be alright. Then again, maybe not! I'm going to go alright, but I may not be back!

Ra News of My Death ....

Friday 9:20 p.m.
.... has been greatly exaggerated!

A letter addressed to the representative of my auld maw arrived from the Ministry of Defence. My old man got a bit knackered fighting Adolf Hitler, so my auld maw gets a war widow's pension. Well, they'd stopped it. Since she was dead. They were asking for the original death certificate.

This caused much hilarity in Bellshill. My sister phoned up the M.O.D. and said my auld maw didn't look dead since she was sitting in the room with her. She gave my maw the phone. They offerred to send in the counsellers to deal with the trauma. My maw said no to that, but said if they were going to send her a wreath, send her one without any lillies in it as she wasn't so found of them! (This is a joke best understood if you know about the sectarianism in the west of Scotland)

I thought I felt a new sensation today, Jack. Quite a nice one as well, I must say! It was on he train to Bellshill. How often are you going to hear a middle aged flatheid saying something like that?

Flatheids just don't get ra bliss!

I'm on day 10 on the planet with no beer. No withdrawal symptoms, no cravings, no money, fat basturn!

Ricky Hatton is fighting tomorrow night in the States. I think Ring Magazine made him boxer of the year last year, something like that, but I've never seen him fight because I haven't got satellite teevee. He goes into training for fights regularly at 13 stone and fights at light welter (10 stone!). One year he had four fights and lost 13 stone in fat over that year. He's an inspirational figure to fat basturns like me that boy, so he is!

Ra Kama Mudra!

Monday 20:31 p.m.
Backtracking from the statscounter, I found that someone had put rabliss into google. I couldn't believe my eyes when I clickied on the first one on the page. Yab-Yummy, baby.

If anyone would like to email Jasmine and tell her that Hotboy is willing, I would be most grateful!

Wednesday 10: 30 p.m.
The yogini in the photie at rabliss.com isn't me. She's called Jasmine and has a blog over here. I think Jasmine might be the kind of yogini to manifest in the visions of truly fortunate creatures. I hope Jasmine might want to considered for a post in hut management. Before even considering this, Jasmine, you should ask yourself several questions.
1) Do you like watching volleyball?
2) Does the idea of blindfolds and handcuffs bother you?
3) Can you underwrite an insurance policy in case Hotboy sustains permanent damage during the yab-yum lap dancing juju?

Dream on, eh? Here on day eight on the planet with no beer, I felt a touch of gate fever tonight and wished for a moment or two to be walking through a sparkly place with gorgeous young women half falling out of their dresses at every point in the compass. It's the lack of central nervous system depressants, that's what it is.

Have you ever had a smile of pure delight, Jack? Once when I was in Australia and the kiddo was only three, we took her to this park where they had a model railway with a wee train you could ride on. The kid and I played lots of Thomas The Tank Engine games in those days, to the extent that she called me Fat Controller. My Fat Controller was more like Pere Ubu. I was developing the part. Anyway, as we waited on what passed for the station platform, what came round the corner but Thomas the Tank Engine himself!

It's the smile. The smile of delight. I've been getting it a lot recently when I've been meditating. Total delight. Visceral delight. It might look a bit odd to the viewers due to the kind of popping out eyeballs just showing the whites, but then you could wear shades. And once in a while take them off to reveal the white eyeballs! We'll clean up, Jasmine! Just remember my fifty percent is off the top!

Ra Fifth Day!

Sunday 6:05 p.m.
On the fifth day on the planet without any beer, I went for a run of three miles or thereabouts. A year ago about now I pranged my knee (whilst getting into a lotus half pissed, I think) and stopped running. I was eleven and a half stone then. I was twelve and a half stone three or four days ago. Today I weighed in at twelve stone four or five.

I actually enjoyed the run. I ran along to Comely Bank and up by the park to Ferry Road. You go along there and cut down the road beside the Botanics. Then you turn at the clock to head for Princes Street. There's a lovely big hill there, split by roads into five chunks. But not if you nick down by the Colonies and get back to Stockbridge that way. I think if I'd ran up the hills today .... I want to go to hospital, please.

Over the last few days my meditations have been truly wonderful. I thought the Gopi Krishna torrent of kundalini could go off today. So much bliss and some heat from the vase breathing. I'm afraid you do have to pay some attention to the injunction to purify and accumulate. That means no beer for me!

I'm not saying sometimes it's not hard not to see folk or do much but meditate, but I have ra bliss. Quite often I've spent January giving up tobacco. Now, that is just a pure basturn. All the best to everyone who's been trying this year, especially Eric, samsaramom's man.

10:35 p.m.
This first weekend on the planet with no beer has been quite important to me. I've got a lot of time to meditate with only half a job to go to. The main thing for me has to be doing the juju. If I can do it just the way things are just now, then it doesn't matter if I don't get any books published or have to stay in my half job. I don't mind getting books published and getting rid of the half job, but I don't want to need it. After these last few days, maybe all I need to do is keep away from flatheids, drink no beers., and investigate ra bliss! What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!

Rem Deities Again!

Saturday 2:44 p.m.
How are things looking today? Good, bad, or indifferent maybe. Now, if the objects outside your self are really much the same as ever, and the tackle for discriminating what's what with the photons, etc., is the same, why should things look better sometimes than others. Is it possible to improve how you view things?

Probably not if you're one of the irredeemably flatheided. Sorry about that, Jack. You are a straw in the wind.

You might think when you hear about the deity yoga juju that this is stupid because you have to see other joes and josephines are deities as well. So the problem is how do you see flatheids as deities?

You've got the same stuff out there and the same means of perception, so something must happen with the other bit, whatever you call it, the thing all this is impacting on. Maybe your consciousness or your mind. Anyway, logically, that's the bit that's got to change.

Interestingly enough, the boy with the personal statement about the kundalini arousal or torrent (link on last post) says he thought the flatheids in New York looked divine, especially, the kids after this event had occurred. Gopi Krishna talks about hardly being able to drag himself away from the view from his window because of how wonderful the world looked.

So I'm just leaving the flatheids where they are this year. I'm not going to try to see them as deities. As far as possible, I'll keep out their road. If I get on with this deity yoga juju, one day (soon, please!) they will appear divine automatically. I wonder what divine looking flatheids look like?

Of course, those of us fortunate enough to regularly meditate are more cheerful, more rounded, happier joes and josephines than your average greetin, torn faced flatheid. Well, the juju works at all levels, but I think we're talking major shifts in consciousness here. How can this be so? Let' hope I find out.

Was just about to go to the allotment fifteen minutes ago, but I only got twenty yards before the rain came on. I'll don the Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle instead. Here comes the sweat!

10 p.m.
Muffled sounds of the Harry Potter movie get through the noise blockers, while sitting en famille with the eyeballs rolled up. What a wonderful way to spend the evening, in the warmth while the gales rage ... bugger! Just when I was getting into my swing as well. Got to go to the bus stop with the kiddo. Maybe later.

11:05 p.m.
What a wonderful, wonderful day! Four days into the year off the beer and already the boundaries of ra bliss, the very edges of the envelope seem to be extending and extending yet again. It's like you spend most of the evening doing the juju in some way or other, but for most of the time you're in the deliciousness of the delicious light swords. Right now, if I just close my eyes ... there it is. Ra bliss! Great globules of bliss arising even as one types the bloggy! What a wonderful existence this is! Every time you give something up, you get a huge boost from ra bliss. Never fails!

Four days and nights on the planet with no beer, Jack.
Do you want me to give you a medal? It's time to fish or cut bait, Hotboy. Remember that you are mortal.
You're not going to start telling me to attack people or anything like that, are you, Jack?
I'm not that kind of voice, Hotboy. When you do hear that kind of voice, you'll be able to tell the difference.

Breakfast: Toast and banana. Yummy. Lunch: Toast and cheese and banana, and soup! A culinary victory of the first order! Dinner: Soup and toast! Delicious. Right now, I must away and cook up some toast! With home made bread the toast is just yummy! What a fortunate creature I am to think toast is a feast!

Ra Gopi Krishna Joe Again!

Friday 6:45 p.m.
How the wind blew today! How the rain lashed! How wonderful! I sat in all day and meditated from most of the time. Just what the doctor ordered. Another couple of days like this and I'll be floating back to work on Monday morning.

Gopi Krishna keeps cropping up. The guy who did the last interview with him posted it onto my blog. It's here. Then I followed a google search which threw up my blog (from the statscounter thing) and came across a guy who'd tried to get this kundalini arousal, or kundalini torrent, to work. Must say I did enjoy reading this.

Ionetics sent me an email since she'd managed to finish Alma Mater. That was nice. Didn't seem to have any trouble getting through it, so I copied the email to my agent, Mr Adrian Weston. I've always assumed it was the worse book on that page, but she said it was "a page turner." Everybody has different tastes in books of course. (I'm going to be rich! Rich, I tell you!)

The flat has just gone empty. Here comes ra bliss! Here comes ra bliss!

1:15 a.m.
Good day. No beer again. No bother either. Superb meditations in the evening. I thought I should make an effort at pretending to be a writer today, so I read an old play I wrote about ten years ago. Didn't mind reading it. The dialogue is excellent. The play might be amusing enough. Dearie me. Still, it only took an hour. Maybe best to keep mulling over in odd moments what I fancy writing next. Give me another day like today. Let it rain! Let it blow!

Ra Filthy Weather Continues

Thursday 9:00 p.m.
This is not a religious blog. Is it, Jack? No, it's usually the only thing you can be bothered doing when your half pissed, Hotboy. Well, it's all got to stop, Jack. It's all got to stop.

" Well, there's nothing so lonesome, lonely and queer. What a terrible place is a pub with no beer!"

Instead of the slurping on the pint of delicious and truly wonderful Erdinger beer, I will take a big lungful of air and do the vase breathing bit. Let's go..... I'm a wee bit enwrapped here, Jack. It's a bloggy of the great long pauses. Delicous bliss! Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss! It was only the beer that was keeping me here, Jack. I think I'll go back to my own world now.

Of course, I know the aliens from outer space check in on this bloggy because I'm one of them. I come from a planet where there is no beer because everyone there has full control of ra bliss levels. They walk around being amazingly happy all the time. Even if they had their arms hacked off accidentally, they'd just laugh and say: "It's just a lot of old photons! Ha, ha, ha!"

The planet with the no beer where I come from is a terrible place to live. Nobody's got a mobile phone. It's practically stone age. Nobody can be bothered. It really, really is hard to get a plumber. Everybody is happy except for the folk who can't fix plumbing.

This place is much better. Hardly anybody meditates here. The buses don't run at random times. So let's hear it for the flatheids! Hurrah! And hurrah for the beer! Oh, the beer, the beer, the beer!

But there's to be no beers now, Hotboy.
Why is that, Jack?
Because you are a fat basturn and skint as well.
But if I don't drink lots of beer, I'll burst out of my skin and folk will be able to see that I'm really a big wasp from the planet with no beer.
That's the risk you have to take, Hotboy.

I fought through the filthy weather to go to Bellshill to see my auld maw this morning. That means I don't have to see anyone except the Domestic Bliss till Monday. Yahoo! It's almost like being in control of your life. The flatheids have ceased their excesses and an eerie calm prevails. I love this month! Let the wind blow and the rain lash down. It keeps the flatheids subdued. I really am keen to do a lot of meditating tomorrow. It's hard sometimes, but you've got to want to do it. But the beer was the only thing really keeping me grounded. Who knows what comes next? This is the HotboyMadyamikaS.O.B. still on the same planet as you flatheids, but only just.

Ra Resumption!

Wednesday 12:45 p.m.
I'm so happy right now! Christmas is over and the days are getting longer again! It's practically summertime and I don't have to go to work for days and days and days. And ra bliss this morning ... well, it keeps moving onwards and upwards. This morning it was like sitting in a bliss filled moon. The moon arose and I wished I could have sat there all morning.

What bliss there will be over the next few days!

Now is the time to start thinking about what I'm going to write next. I read the first couple of pages of a travel book the other day. Well liked book. Esteemed writer. Pots of money. But all you have to do is travel about and make sure there's a witty remark in each paragraph. I've only got the money to travel to work. I wonder if that would do. Of course, I tried to write a travel book before, but a travel book about the second noble truth .... well, now that I've got an agent for one book anyway, I should be sensible. And think about it for a bit anyway.

I got an email from Ionetics yesterday saying she'd read half of Alma Mater while on night shift. Seemed to have enjoyed it. Had a laugh. They're all reprobates, you know. The bourgeois who aren't evil.

11:10 p.m.
By the time I was getting to the top of the slope above the boating pond at Inverleith Park, it was becoming a good bit darker. You get a great view of the Edinburgh skyline from there, going all the way from Salisbury Crags on the left and along passed the castle, etc. At dusk the twinkle in the lights is good.
There are two benches at the top of the slope there, over a bit on the grass, facing the view. And it was a good view with the sun going down on the west, just above some rooftops. One of the benches is dedicated to the memory of the Smiths, who were born in the 1920s. I sat on that one and faced the setting sun and gazed in that direction as it grew darker. I knew nobody would bother me with it getting cold and dark.

Then I went to the allotment, and sat at the side, as it grew even darker. It takes quite a time to get dark around these parts even when the sun has gone down. And, sitting on some newspapers, it's not really cold at all. Your legs get a bit cold, but the feeling is not unpleasant. When it was really dark, I got up and set fire to the newspapers. That's my thing; setting fire to the newspapers.

Weighed in for the first night of the No Beer Belly Anymore Programme. Twelve and a half stone. Fat, drunken basturn!

Why am I bothering? I just usually do. This is my year anyway. Here comes ra heat! Here comes ra heat!

Ris Wonderful life!

Monday 10:00 p.m.
This is the first day of giving up everything really; the first day back to work. So far I've only had four beers, but I felt awful cold and lonely and lonesome, and down in the bar the barmaids are very nice, and the beer is good, and the footie is on. ...

Bad thought arise due to the aftermath of the beers. Good thoughts often arise whilst partaking in the beers. To find the perfect balance between these good and bad thoughts ... Why can't they come and shoot me now? I don't mind not having thoughts. What's the point of all these thoughts? Put your hand up if you've ever had an original one? I mean, an original thought. I suspected that there would be no hands up for that one. Okay, can anyone here do ra bliss? Unfortunately, no hands up for that one either. Well, I take my hat off to you flatheids. I couldn't cope without huge doses of ra bliss and the weird accompanying changes in perception.

Things to look forward to this year:
1) The allotment is converted into a court for the Australian Ladies Volleyball Team.
2) This is my final throw of the dice: the juju accelerates so fast due to me giving everything up again and again that uncontrollable bursts of pleasure going up and down my spine make it impossible for me to hold down my job. I get carted out of the library and taken to secure accomodation and I'm given three square meals a day! Yes! Yes! Doctor, doctor, I can't stamp the books because of ra bliss!
3) The agent, Mr Adrian Weston, a man of great taste and perspicacity, makes me filthy rich and I give all the money away. But at the same time because of the steady drip drip of money, I can also give the half job away. Yahoo!

I know I'm not going to get out of this alive, Jack. I know that the burden on me is very slight and always has been. I have always been a fortunate and usually quite irresponsible joe. So drag me off to jail, ya basturns! One with a teevee, a toilet, a shower, and an internet connection. And a dead rat! What company that would be!

Imagine my life just trundled on, the way lives do. I don't get the new book published and I have to keep up the job, and I don't write anymore. And I really don't have any money for beers! It won't just be a lot of new Mondays. There's Niagara flowing in the background, and it's only silent till you try to tune in and then it's just getting louder and louder, and I don't know why it seems to grow in strength. I don't know anyone one else this is happening to, but there aren't many joes like moi doing this weird Tibetan juju, is there? Why is that, Hotboy? Have you ever thought of that? Yes, Jack, I have thought of that. If they want to go around with their heads stuck up their bottoms, as long as they're happy, that's wonderful, and well done to them, says I.

You can hear the sound of the car tyres squishing through the rain sodden streets three floors below. The general tone of the weather should tell you something about the desirabilty of a living space. Scottish weather can tell you to fung off for day after day. No wonder I'm surrounded in the street by such sour faced basturns. Heroic and daft for being here at the same time.

I should try to get these calvinist basturns to adopt my lifestyle. You sit in the hut all day and when the rain comes on the whole of the Australian Ladies Volleyball Squad asks you for shelter. Screeching and yelping, bouncing volleyball babes. What a fabulously successful webcam shot that would make!

Ra End Again!

Sunday 5:17 p.m.
This will just be haverings.

The great agitation among the flatheids really ends today. After today there are no occasions till Easter and Easter is nice and easy. You don't have to, have to, have to do anything at Easter. It just comes and goes.

I need peace and quiet. Peace and quiet do not come naturally to me. I like to don the viking helmet and go berserk as much as the next joe. But I try to be good. Mental calming. I need everything to be predictable. I'm a german viking. I want a routine to metronome me through. That is the way you get things done. Routines. Habitual behaviour, such as, writing for two or three hours as day even although nobody else does. Keeps you on track.

Say you were like a doggie getting pulled along behind a cart; this life. You do not want the missing Sanity Clause to be in charge of the cart pulling you. You want the cart just to trundle along so you can work something out.

Had I been in solitary confinement over the past two and a half weeks, what progress I would have made! Yet despite the agitation among the flatheids, things have still progressed. I woke up and brought on ra bliss today before I even sat up.

I'll be 56 this year. I don't mind dying this year if anybody has to. 56 is very old for a human being in the history of the human beings. You can't say I didn't get to say my say. My old man died at 52. I've been in the gravy for nearly four years already!

Amazingly enough, I'm in fantastic health for an old drunken basturn!

Every year for several years, it's been apparent that the next year was going to be the best year of my life because that's the way it is once you really start investigating ra bliss. Everything must become more and more wondrous and wonderful. And so it will be with this next year. It will indubitably be the best year of my life. What can I say? This is RaBlissBlog!

Ra Moon!

Friday 5:42 p.m.
Like images seen in a dream; thus must we regard all things. Nagarjuna. The wall.

So where's the moon then? As you're reading this, it must be in your mind. You have a good idea of what I'm talking about: the moon. So the moon is definitely in your mind. What about objectively speaking...?

Well, Jack, that's very clever, that objectively speaking bit. I don't suppose monkeys can do that, the objectively speaking bit. They probably don't think stuff like, objectively speaking, when I am dead there will still be a moon there, just as it was there before I was born. So it exists other than as a thought, Hotboy.

How can you think about something without using thoughts? No matter how you think about it, you can't think without using your mind, objectively speaking.


This buddhist juju maybe starts making more sense when you think of everything as being a thought. Like, motor cars are thoughts. The park is a thought. I mean, the physically existing park is a thought. The moon is a thought.

Of course, in the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid, we don't believe in thoughts.

Say there was a time before the earth, and before the sun, and before organic things had become compounded... and there were no live things to have any thoughts. There can't be any thought there. It's just all gas and photons and stuff. But is there awareness? Can you have awareness without having any thoughts? Mind is supposed to be like space with awareness, I think.

Within my wee ten seconds of non-self and emptiness in the interconnectedness, joined up, and threaded through with a kind of consciousness ... out of clock time .... I did think I was a focus of awareness, like a self observing beacon elevated somehow. It did occur to me later that we might be here to have the thoughts.

Since I observed the wholeness in flow in the same way as I observed the moon, I must admit that it will probably have been here before me and should outlast me. Fortunately, in some weird way it's also me.

I don't think awareness is just like ... cold. It could be totally zinging! Anyway, if when you're dead you're just dead, then how amazing to be alive!

Ris New Age!

Friday 1:22 p.m.
Giving up everything for three days was a piece of cake, but I had to do some refuelling for a social engagement yesterday. So I've stopped again today. Just now anyway. Until the flatheids force me to party again.

I've just stopped meditating in the lobby. I've found this sticker of the Medicine Buddha to stare at. I favour the Medicine Buddha because he's awful blue and the colours around him are right in your face, kind of dayglow. When you've been gazing for a bit, well, the colours change and the more psychedelic the better.

Doubts about deities; what are they? what are you supposed to do with them, etcetera all just disappeared when I was staring at this sticker. The Medicine Buddha has a reality as an illusion (the image on the sticker), but isn't that the way it is with everything else? You've got to realise that everything exists only in mind. You should be able to manipulate stuff from that. Anyway, although I've not had the empowerment, I'm going to use this image on the sticker to help cure my addictions this year. My head got round that during the meditation. Hmmm? That was good!

The effects of the vase breathing have gone right out the park again. A home run. The boy says the important thing is not ra bliss and the heat (lot of heat today!), but the primordial awareness creeping up. I think it's creeeping up sometimes. That' why the problems with the deity juju disappeared.

I'd like to just go back to the lobby and meditate the rest of the afternoon away, but it is a beautiful day and I think I should go a New Year's stroll round the Botanic Gardens and maybe have a wee read at the Kalachakra book. What a fortunate creature I am!

Ra Back To Work!

Wednesday 3:15 p.m.
Philippino is spelt with an eff, as in Filipino. How come? Phlatheids ... you can spell that how you like; it still won't make any difference. But it is finally time to be nice about flatheids.

Wouldn't it be great to be a flatheid! Flatheids don't need anything. Perfectly contained in their wee mental spaces, they breenge about with their heads up their backsides as if without a care in the world. It's joes like me who want to meditate who have the problem. I mean, why waste your time meditating when the world is so full of wonderful things ... like the dole and the National Health Service and instant access to double the overdraft limit?

Most flatheids are pretty heroic as well. They don't want the moon. A half decent wage in a job that they can do, and somewhere secure to live, and most people are glad enough with that. Maybe you need as sense of dissatisfaction to want to meditate. It is not easy to see why you should sit on your backside and mutter Mumbo Jumbo to yourself while at other times saying: It's just a load of old photons. What is the bloody point of wasting your time with that? Look out, don't look in; look up, don't look down. If you're happy as a flatheid, clap your hands!

Neither of the folk I've lived with for decades meditates. So why should you, Jack?

Writing this tripe has made me feel so incredibly fortunate! You don't get any of ra bliss, Jack! I'm the only person I know who gets ra bliss!! If I went into the street just now and asked anyone about ra bliss, nobody would know what I was talking about. What a fortunate, fortunate creature I am!


Well, as the nighttime draws in, it's time for me to go and immerse myself once more in ra bliss. You can just remember how lucky you are to be a flatheid, Jack. And don't feel envious of me with ra bliss and I won't feel envious of you with what it is .... you've got.

Ra Second Day!

Tuesday 9:25 p.m.
With the start of the year, I'm beginning to read the Practice of Kalachakra by Glenn H. Mullin. I found it on my floor. I've made a resolution to no longer feel guilty about not reading fiction because you won't get closer to ra bliss by reading fiction.

On the first evening (last night) of the beer belly reduction programme, I found myself lying on the floor in here (the living room) and there I lost my arms and legs, and just about everything else, to a great stretching outwards of ra bliss. I think the pose is called savasana, or the corpse pose. You just kind of lie flat. It's actually quite hard to do this pose in yoga because you have to relax as completely as possible and some people just cannot do that. I don't see how these people will ever get ra bliss since not only are they unable to sit properly, they can't even lie down properly! Dearie, dearie me!

Two days ago, I thought I might get a bit short of cash before the next pay day, and so I phoned up the bank and asked them to double my overdraft limit. Amazingly, they said yes. What a wonderful country this is! Even if you haven't got any money or any real prospects, they still give you money if you just ask for it! Where is this money coming from? It must be some kind of miracle.

On the second evening (this evening) of the beer belly reduction programme, I must say I'm starting right now to find it quite hard not to go to Peckhams and buy some beer. I'll have to try and remember why I'm not supposed to drink beer. Why the hell was I supposed to stop drinking beer? Especially Erdinger. Since I can't remember why I'm supposed to stop drinking beer, it must have been affecting my short term memory. If I can remember tomorrow, I'll start drinking beer again.

Ra End!

New Year's Day 6:30 p.m.
Happy New Year to one and all! Thank Christ that's over!

Whilst cycling back from visiting Shiva yesterday, I nearly got blown off the bike! What a wind! Blow, ya bugger, blow, I thought! Maybe if the weather was bad, I could just stay in. The weather was filthy and for a couple of hours I thought I was going to be okay. Of course, at half eleven I'm out in the street with the josephine hailing a taxi. Unremitting flatheidedness. Now, of course, all my addictions are fully primed, so that some very unpleasant thoughts are just bound to arise over the next few days. I could just stab myself and phone an ambulance. Get me to a dialysis machine, please.

So let's look forward to a wonderful 2007! The first thing I'm going to do is give everything up as usual. Tomorrow. Then everything else will fall into place. Better thoughts will eventually arise. My meditations will be amazingly wonderful. It doesn't matter if someone wants to publish my new book, but somebody might. Much better chance now that I'vbe got an agent anyway. Then the prospects of giving up the job brighten somewhat. If I didn't have a job, I could write books and cycle and shadow box and go for runs and do what the hell I want. Whatever happens with the job, the meditations will progress by leaps and bounds anyway. What a wonderful future I'm going to have!

The best bit of the holidays was getting the email from the Philippino woman with the five kids who'd downloaded kidbooks from my site. Amidst the bullshit and crap, that did cheer me up! Have a good new year, missis, and win a lot of money!