i only can't stop thinking about
Michael Hutchence,
without simultaneously listening
to, one, specific track...
    dead can dance's...
epic... fortunate the man with none...
which ends up me thinking
of stray dogs, a barrel,
                         and a man in rags
visited by the fashionable women
of ancient Athens...
  Diogenes of Sinope
and if we're going to go down this
root, of borrowing from the classical
world...
   way beyond considering
myself left, right,
liberal, libertarian,
or whatever the Enlightenment
provides on the focus of
sophistry in politics...
  what am i?
cynic, skeptic,
  well...
  i guess a mixture of a stoic...
and a Epicurean...
why? food? not so much...
but when it comes to drinking?
i'm a full blown Epicurean...
i like my alcohol...
but, come the next day?
i am stoic...
    in that i also, more than endure
the pains of re-hydrating my
body...
i enjoy the symptoms
of puking, coughing,
   having a hard time taking
a ****...
  needing to drink some more
alcohol for the food
to say inside of me...
        i can't be neither,
but have to revise myself as being,
both...
               and the pain is real
sometimes...
   but do i learn anything from it
i.e. not to do it again?
nope... i repeat it...
because i found a variant of
stoicism that came much later
with the advent of masochism
and sadism...
i became...
no longer:
a person who can endure pain or
hardship without showing their
           feelings or complaining,
but, rather,
a person who can find, pleasure
from pain...
     which is... come to think of it...
the highest tier of the Epicurean
school of thought...
masochists and sadists,
actually are Epicureans...
but of a fringe variant...
how else explain my pleasure...
from the pain inflicted
by me putting out cigarettes
on my clenched fist
on the knuckles?
why can pain become pleasurable...
because it's acute...
to enjoy either food or drink,
you require great quantities...
well... pain is the great quantity,
but it can be of great quantity
made compact within whatever
the confines it is expressed...
some would call this
pseudo-Epicurean...
in the ancient world they would
have...
              but such are my
inclinations...
             perhaps i learned
to enjoy pain in the Epicurean sense
of food and drink,
unlike a stoic...
                    given all
   the pain giving unto me as
a toddler no more than 1 year old...
and let me tell you...
an inflammation of the ear?
i thought it recurred when my wisdom
teeth were rotting from within...
oddly enough...
i still have a remaining two
on one side of my jaw-line...
but the pain is quiet similar...
yes... you could say i follow the dictum
of a post-Stoic pseudo-Epicurean
demand...
esp. when you know that...
the pleasure from *******?
has nothing to do with the act
of *******...
  but is a vague muscular tingling?
as if electricity was passing
through the acute muscles...
that other muscles only experience
a lactic acid build up?
  well... if like me,
you started ******* aged 7 / 8...
i actually derive more pleasure
from a trinity of unengaged
genitals...
my ***** are tickled by
the same sensation upon *******
derived from the phallus...
the same electric tickling then
orientates itself around the ****...
and the coccyx...
            ******* for me is
passé... and if i sit in a certain way
(hunched before a keyboard)...
the sensation can last for a decent
amount of minutes...
depending how long it takes me
to type something....
so... "technically"... in a transgender
sense... i have a ******...
but my "*******...
consists of the testicles,
the **** and the coccyx.