Ra Pestilence!
Tuesday 8:43 p.m.
By law, occasionally I have to inform the pederasts coming here looking for hotboys that this is a police surveillance prototype bloggy. You've only got ... here come the discerning devices to pursue your address.
Despite wearing the surgical mask and having the ten foot pole, the disease still managed to cross the room, propelled at millions of miles an hour by the terrific coughs and sneezes. It started creeping up on moi this afternoon. Anyone who has been reading this blog for a while (Hello, Jack the Spam Robot!) will know what a wonderful sick basturn I can be. So I thought I would see if I could counteract the disease with my yogic powers, and came in here about six to meditate.
I read somewhere that making the inner heat arise was dead good for your health. Like, you heat up like you would with a fever, or some such. Fry the germs.
The earth has moved again, Jack. You mean there has been further developments with ra bliss, Hotboy. I just goes on and on changing and being amazing. This meditation lark is very exciting in the old vajrayana. So yesterday I could tell it was different again. Something has moved aside and let something else in. A lot more heat in this complex mixture of gases and blisses from the vase breath. And I am starting to get quite hot.
So if it keeps on like this by next winter I should be going to work in my simmit. (For the people not fortunate enough to even be Scottish: Is that a singlet?) I'm bound to stand out. If anyone was dassing to risk me fisk by remarking on the snow turning to steam on my skin, I'll screw up my face and slowly say: Be-elzeebub!
You must be able to get into hospital if your boiling hot all the time. I'd need long term observation since these doctors wouldn't know what to make of a self heating malingerer. Three meals a day and nurses uniforms! I could just not tell them about the meditating and get it down as a new syndrome: The Hotboy Syndrome. Promote the brand. I should be in public relations, so I should.
As far as the contest between the yogic powers and the flu is concerned, ten nil to the flu!
By law, occasionally I have to inform the pederasts coming here looking for hotboys that this is a police surveillance prototype bloggy. You've only got ... here come the discerning devices to pursue your address.
Despite wearing the surgical mask and having the ten foot pole, the disease still managed to cross the room, propelled at millions of miles an hour by the terrific coughs and sneezes. It started creeping up on moi this afternoon. Anyone who has been reading this blog for a while (Hello, Jack the Spam Robot!) will know what a wonderful sick basturn I can be. So I thought I would see if I could counteract the disease with my yogic powers, and came in here about six to meditate.
I read somewhere that making the inner heat arise was dead good for your health. Like, you heat up like you would with a fever, or some such. Fry the germs.
The earth has moved again, Jack. You mean there has been further developments with ra bliss, Hotboy. I just goes on and on changing and being amazing. This meditation lark is very exciting in the old vajrayana. So yesterday I could tell it was different again. Something has moved aside and let something else in. A lot more heat in this complex mixture of gases and blisses from the vase breath. And I am starting to get quite hot.
So if it keeps on like this by next winter I should be going to work in my simmit. (For the people not fortunate enough to even be Scottish: Is that a singlet?) I'm bound to stand out. If anyone was dassing to risk me fisk by remarking on the snow turning to steam on my skin, I'll screw up my face and slowly say: Be-elzeebub!
You must be able to get into hospital if your boiling hot all the time. I'd need long term observation since these doctors wouldn't know what to make of a self heating malingerer. Three meals a day and nurses uniforms! I could just not tell them about the meditating and get it down as a new syndrome: The Hotboy Syndrome. Promote the brand. I should be in public relations, so I should.
As far as the contest between the yogic powers and the flu is concerned, ten nil to the flu!
posted by Hotboy at 8:43 PM
7 Comments:
That first paragraph is evil and very funny. Sorry to hear you're poorly, but raising the heat must help! My dad refuses to take anti-febriles when sick because of the germ-frying theory. Of course, fever also induces increases in a neuropeptide called DSIP (delta-sleep inducing peptide), which causes a change in sleep architecture. You have much more slow-wave sleep, thought to be important in body restitution and immune function. Not many people know that! Keep up the heat!
Did you get it off the weekend visitors? Next time don't open the door, that used to work for me in Edinburgh. Also Vinnie.
Ion: How interesting! I phoned in sick and will start the day with a hot bath! Heat all round! Hotboy
Albert! No, the Domestic Bliss got it because she doesn't meditate. Blinking Trojan horse! Hotboy. p.s. She just gone to Spain now. Bloody typical!
I can get a bit of ra bliss, but I definitely can't get ra heat! Not that I've ever tried to learn how. I could probably stand to, as I tend to get cold real easily. I have the metabolism of a tortoise!
I say!
Apart from old hunting injuries which play up from time to time, I'm never sick. It must be your diet, Hotboy.
I'm sure this will help.
MM III
Mingin'! Do you think tripe, black pudding suppers and fried eggs would do the trick? Hotboy.
Somebody: I was getting ra bliss to some extent for 11 or 12 years before I got any heat. (April 6th, 2003). Anagarika Govinda said if you just concentrate on a symbol at your navel chakra, it will eventually get hot. Heat follows mind, he says. That's not the way I've been doing it. It's Tibetan juju this 6 Yogas of Naropa. Heat upset some medieval christian mystics, I believe. Freaky stuff!
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