Ra Anticipation!
Thursday 2:11 P.M.
I went to see Carthage Must Be Destroyed for the
second time last night. What a great production that is! I'd go again
if I hadn't maxed out my overdraft limit to go the second time.
Fabulous acting! Great everything!
The Domestic Bliss is leaving town tonight and won't be back till Sunday night. The flat is empty just now. The weather outside is pretty filthy and wet. Let it be
filthy and wet. I'm going to stay rooted to the spot for as long as I
can today. How fortunate I am to be doing this juju! This is RaBlissBlog! Off to the lobby to soar away with ra bliss! I'll keep you posted, Jack!
10:26 p.m.
I started meditating this morning at ten and just finished there at
10:15 p.m. Might have had two and a half hours off out of that twelve.
Meditated solely in the lobby. And after being so good, of course, one
has to be a little bad! I've just started on the home brew. Sometimes
it was hard today and sometimes it was easy. Mainly easy. But as it's
getting dark (after nine here just now), it just goes fabulous. What is
going on here?
Anyway, the flat is empty. Bring on the dancing girls!
If you exist, but not the way you think you exist ...if it's happening,
but not the way you think it's happening ... if whatever is happening
certainly isn't happening to you ... why are you so funged up?
Then I tried to tell myself that I should pretend the depiction on the
postcard was really the Medicine Buddha.
That way lies madness, Jack. Go for it, Hotboy.
You remember the chariot, Jack? How could I forget, Hotboy?
Well, it's a multiplicity of parts, no part of which actually contains
the chariot. The chariot is in your mind. Where else could it be?
Also, as I've said, after a while, the postcard can look
a bit wonky, the colours beaming vividly and kind of melding into each
other.
So we just embellish a little more and, voila, the Medicine Buddha!
Has he started to talk to you yet,Hotboy? No, Jack. He's really still just a fuzzy, warm postcard, but I'm working on it.
It's just like the stuff you do with the image on he Turin Shroud. If a
postcard is all I've got, it's going to have to do!
So the first thing the Medicine Buddha is going to say is: You should have
learned to speak Tibetan because I don't speak Scottish.
This part shall be known as the joke after one pint of home brew.
I shall go and refill my glass!
Normally, one is so negative about alcohol, but that is because one is
not drinking. One forgets what a good time one can have with a few drinkies after a whole day on the cushion. Aye, it's hard work all that sitting on your bum all day. You deserve to get completely puggled after such strenuousness.
I've just realised there's a spell checker thingy on this bloggy. They don't have flatheids wherever they stay. I'd like to go there!
The sensei and reverend has gotten there first. Well done, the sensei, for escaping from Tennessee without getting caught. Fat people will no longer be cannibalised in Chattanooga. Watch out Phoenix!
I have fond memories of the (no, it's not the time when I sing yous all
a wee song!) ...
McCoy. It's about ... this guy goes into this cave for six
years ... it's a Buddhist thing that ... anyway, I could write that bit
better now. That's a way I could write about deity yoga, etc. Somehow,
the one that starts with thejoe getting stabbed through the eyes might
not be much of a vehicle to carry the slight burden of what I know
about deity yoga.
The false sense of self has to go have fun as well. You can see this peeling off into a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
dichotomy ... only after one and a half pints of this truly rancid, but
somehowscintillatingly wonderful beverage.
This spell checker stuff is going to make a big difference. I stopped being able to spell when I started blogging. I wonder why. A certain loss of acuteness.
So then I was trying to remember what I knew about Wilhelm Reich. Something about armour. I can't remember. What's the line, Jack? He said ninety percent of people can't get their rocks off right, Hotboy.
The mechanism that makes masses of people incapable of freedom is the social suppression of genital sexuality in small children, adolescents and adults. W. Reich. The Wall.
This is a bad translation. My bloggy chummy Onan might make a better fist of this. "The guilt experienced from the playing with one's sexual organs stands at the top the list of forbidden deeds.
If you'd like your bare naked photie pinned to my wall in the bare naked photie section (thank you in advance for your participation!) then just contact me in the usual way. HotboyMadyamikaSurfingTheOceansOfBliss.
I went to see Carthage Must Be Destroyed for the
second time last night. What a great production that is! I'd go again
if I hadn't maxed out my overdraft limit to go the second time.
Fabulous acting! Great everything!
The Domestic Bliss is leaving town tonight and won't be back till Sunday night. The flat is empty just now. The weather outside is pretty filthy and wet. Let it be
filthy and wet. I'm going to stay rooted to the spot for as long as I
can today. How fortunate I am to be doing this juju! This is RaBlissBlog! Off to the lobby to soar away with ra bliss! I'll keep you posted, Jack!
10:26 p.m.
I started meditating this morning at ten and just finished there at
10:15 p.m. Might have had two and a half hours off out of that twelve.
Meditated solely in the lobby. And after being so good, of course, one
has to be a little bad! I've just started on the home brew. Sometimes
it was hard today and sometimes it was easy. Mainly easy. But as it's
getting dark (after nine here just now), it just goes fabulous. What is
going on here?
Anyway, the flat is empty. Bring on the dancing girls!
If you exist, but not the way you think you exist ...if it's happening,
but not the way you think it's happening ... if whatever is happening
certainly isn't happening to you ... why are you so funged up?
Then I tried to tell myself that I should pretend the depiction on the
postcard was really the Medicine Buddha.
That way lies madness, Jack. Go for it, Hotboy.
You remember the chariot, Jack? How could I forget, Hotboy?
Well, it's a multiplicity of parts, no part of which actually contains
the chariot. The chariot is in your mind. Where else could it be?
Also, as I've said, after a while, the postcard can look
a bit wonky, the colours beaming vividly and kind of melding into each
other.
So we just embellish a little more and, voila, the Medicine Buddha!
Has he started to talk to you yet,Hotboy? No, Jack. He's really still just a fuzzy, warm postcard, but I'm working on it.
It's just like the stuff you do with the image on he Turin Shroud. If a
postcard is all I've got, it's going to have to do!
So the first thing the Medicine Buddha is going to say is: You should have
learned to speak Tibetan because I don't speak Scottish.
This part shall be known as the joke after one pint of home brew.
I shall go and refill my glass!
Normally, one is so negative about alcohol, but that is because one is
not drinking. One forgets what a good time one can have with a few drinkies after a whole day on the cushion. Aye, it's hard work all that sitting on your bum all day. You deserve to get completely puggled after such strenuousness.
I've just realised there's a spell checker thingy on this bloggy. They don't have flatheids wherever they stay. I'd like to go there!
The sensei and reverend has gotten there first. Well done, the sensei, for escaping from Tennessee without getting caught. Fat people will no longer be cannibalised in Chattanooga. Watch out Phoenix!
I have fond memories of the (no, it's not the time when I sing yous all
a wee song!) ...
McCoy. It's about ... this guy goes into this cave for six
years ... it's a Buddhist thing that ... anyway, I could write that bit
better now. That's a way I could write about deity yoga, etc. Somehow,
the one that starts with thejoe getting stabbed through the eyes might
not be much of a vehicle to carry the slight burden of what I know
about deity yoga.
The false sense of self has to go have fun as well. You can see this peeling off into a Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
dichotomy ... only after one and a half pints of this truly rancid, but
somehowscintillatingly wonderful beverage.
This spell checker stuff is going to make a big difference. I stopped being able to spell when I started blogging. I wonder why. A certain loss of acuteness.
So then I was trying to remember what I knew about Wilhelm Reich. Something about armour. I can't remember. What's the line, Jack? He said ninety percent of people can't get their rocks off right, Hotboy.
The mechanism that makes masses of people incapable of freedom is the social suppression of genital sexuality in small children, adolescents and adults. W. Reich. The Wall.
This is a bad translation. My bloggy chummy Onan might make a better fist of this. "The guilt experienced from the playing with one's sexual organs stands at the top the list of forbidden deeds.
If you'd like your bare naked photie pinned to my wall in the bare naked photie section (thank you in advance for your participation!) then just contact me in the usual way. HotboyMadyamikaSurfingTheOceansOfBliss.
posted by Hotboy at 2:11 PM
8 Comments:
Reich was intae body armour and orgone accumulators, but he's deid.
I wouldn't like my bare or half- nekkid photie anywhere. Not after the perimenopauses have recently searched and destroyed my waist-to-hip ratio anyway. Still look no bad in a full-face view, but in profile now the belly's bigger than the bust, so a new Cranach-type perspective is enforced.
What's this about 'lobbies'? Is that a wild-western term for a hall? Is it as a western close is to a stair? And do you have sculleries instead of kitchens, and parlours instead of living-rooms?
I can't get anything straight these days, except my waist.
Ion: If you don't show me yours, I certainly won't show you mine! I'd never thought of calling the lobby the hall. A hall is like a big building among the schemes. Hope this helps. Hotboy
Ion: I can't remember why Reich said you got the armour. I was wondering if I could connect it somehow with the false sense of self, but not after two pints of home brew! Hotboy
Hello there! The reason why the lines in this post are odd is bugger all to do with me! I showed up after I found the spell check. Anyone else having trouble with the writing box bit? Also, is beveridge spelt beverage? Hotboy
Doesn't the lobby make you feel like you're in a hotel?
ion - let it all out and you'll feel better. Just look at me!
Re the social suppression of genital sexuality in small children - that explains why I'm so free. That's the one thing they never caught me doing, until it was too late.
Re the armouring, I can't be bothered looking it up, just like your good self. But I always thought that one does it to oneself. I suppose that's no help if one's of a victim-based mindset.
Onan! There's enough doing it to yourself in Bavaria without bringing it over here! Hotboy
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