Sir Plus

Wanting something obscures the fact that I lack nothing.

What I want

Nothing fans the flames of desire like I-am-the-body consciousness. The man who thinks he’s a body is a rolling appetite. His eyes tell the story.

More amore

Doctors cited organ failure but the real COD was an excess of pleasure.

Pleasure

Nothing wrecks a man more efficiently than the pursuit of la dolce vita.

Rattus rattus

There is no problem with pleasure, none whatsoever. Until we want more of it. And then, furred and coal-eyed, there it is, a scurry of pain, of not having what we want.

Let come what comes, let go what goes.