Ra Next Day!
Tuesday 10:20 p.m.
By about noon tomorrow I shall be leaving the jobbie and will be looking ahead to really six and and a half weeks of not having to go to work. All that stuff that you do on a Sunday as you mentally prepare to go once more back into the horror of trying to communicate with the evil bourgeois, the flatheids ... well, it won't be there for a while, Jack. You really get three weeks in the middle when you are free.
So many times I've been in peoples' houses when they were setting off for the Sunday nightshift. There's nothing worse. You have the comfort and you know the cost because of the slightly wired and poised joe (and it was always a joe) getting ready to go out there and pay for it. The jobbie in the factory where it is so loud that to stay there for years makes you deaf, etc. Well, we engaged with the evil bourgeois sufficiently so that we didn't have to pay that price, Jack. And we have six weeks of holiday in front of moi.
Jesus Christ spent forty days fasting in the desert. There's fasting and there's fasting. He might have been eating wasps and other nourishing stuff! Locusts are a perfectly balanced diet. Locusts and honey. Is that what it takes?
So, Hotboy, six weeks is forty two days. The six weeks really starts next Monday. Maybe if you just meditated for about nine hours a day and didn't drink, Hotboy. Wouldn't that be an improvement? Wouldn't that be enough?
The kiddo is my fault. None of the rest of the flatheids are in the same category. They're not my fault. She is. I could make her come to give me things in the hut. Otherwise, I'd just have the eating of the allotment. Why do men do things? To impress women.
You have to work up a real scunner to go and want to sit in the hut for ages. Why do you want to do that again, Hotboy? Well, Jack, I wish to develope equanimity. Don't the normal people have that, Hotboy? Jack, the normal people ... don't start me on flatheids again, Jack.
The last week, while the kiddo and the Dom Bliss have been visiting the Mediterranean rat towns, has been crap! The disease was crap. Samsaric shit! The fact that you can be okay with it and tell yourself that it's okay, is also crap. Being good humoured is crap! Tomorrow, I'll have to say to anyone that it's alright. Well, it isn't alright, Jack! It's samsara, Jack. Get me to the hut! Chain me down! Don't let me leave. Next year I could have the black spot and then I don't want to think about all the chances I didn't take!
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. It will be nice to see them. Then bye bye. If I wasn't an asshole, I'd have the money to go to the Samye Ling for six weeks. Hmmm? Credit cards? They accept credit cards!
By about noon tomorrow I shall be leaving the jobbie and will be looking ahead to really six and and a half weeks of not having to go to work. All that stuff that you do on a Sunday as you mentally prepare to go once more back into the horror of trying to communicate with the evil bourgeois, the flatheids ... well, it won't be there for a while, Jack. You really get three weeks in the middle when you are free.
So many times I've been in peoples' houses when they were setting off for the Sunday nightshift. There's nothing worse. You have the comfort and you know the cost because of the slightly wired and poised joe (and it was always a joe) getting ready to go out there and pay for it. The jobbie in the factory where it is so loud that to stay there for years makes you deaf, etc. Well, we engaged with the evil bourgeois sufficiently so that we didn't have to pay that price, Jack. And we have six weeks of holiday in front of moi.
Jesus Christ spent forty days fasting in the desert. There's fasting and there's fasting. He might have been eating wasps and other nourishing stuff! Locusts are a perfectly balanced diet. Locusts and honey. Is that what it takes?
So, Hotboy, six weeks is forty two days. The six weeks really starts next Monday. Maybe if you just meditated for about nine hours a day and didn't drink, Hotboy. Wouldn't that be an improvement? Wouldn't that be enough?
The kiddo is my fault. None of the rest of the flatheids are in the same category. They're not my fault. She is. I could make her come to give me things in the hut. Otherwise, I'd just have the eating of the allotment. Why do men do things? To impress women.
You have to work up a real scunner to go and want to sit in the hut for ages. Why do you want to do that again, Hotboy? Well, Jack, I wish to develope equanimity. Don't the normal people have that, Hotboy? Jack, the normal people ... don't start me on flatheids again, Jack.
The last week, while the kiddo and the Dom Bliss have been visiting the Mediterranean rat towns, has been crap! The disease was crap. Samsaric shit! The fact that you can be okay with it and tell yourself that it's okay, is also crap. Being good humoured is crap! Tomorrow, I'll have to say to anyone that it's alright. Well, it isn't alright, Jack! It's samsara, Jack. Get me to the hut! Chain me down! Don't let me leave. Next year I could have the black spot and then I don't want to think about all the chances I didn't take!
Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. It will be nice to see them. Then bye bye. If I wasn't an asshole, I'd have the money to go to the Samye Ling for six weeks. Hmmm? Credit cards? They accept credit cards!
posted by Hotboy at 10:22 PM
3 Comments:
The Sunday downer and preparation for a week of work is familiar, but don't you find (as after a long summer holiday) that the angst was a waste of time? I love my weekends, but Mondays are at present never as bad as one expects. Maybe I'm still stunned and intoxicated by the false consciousness of working.
Wow, 6 weeks of holiday? Lucky lucky you.
You must keep your mind occupied so you don't get yourself in trouble!
;)
Have a wonderful week, I know I would if I was facing 6 weeks of vacation!
Ion: Angst, anxiety, false expectations ... always a waste of time. As the S and R says, you should just try to let them go! But I've never really wanted to work! Not at a jobbie anyway! Hotboy
Lee Ann: Lucky, lucky me! You've said it. Have a great day yourself! And a great week, and so on! Hotboy
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