For many years, I felt that my youth had been wasted. I spent my adolescence drinking, taking dope, robbing, and fucking around, when I could have been learning to fluently read Sappho and Thomas Mann in the original.
My youth, as I see it now, was spent as it should have been spent. I am alive, and as I write this, the pleasant morning of the vast blessing of another day, another breath, flows through me. I want now to learn to do the tango, so that I can dance in style on the graves of those of my peers, dropping dead around me like flies, who lived their youths, and their lives, properly and salubriously.
Mens sana in corpore sano, they say. But a sound mind in a sound body is but a plain and pretty flower in a plain and pretty vase. The world is full of such parlour pieces. Fuck them, and prepare thy dancing shoes, for, having survived my youth, and all that followed, I now enjoy the gentler madness to whose shore I have been delivered, and I look forward to tangoing in the graveyard, with you, my darling, or over you.