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When I fell in love with Lo the world, my world, was transformed. It was suddenly bright and meaningful, full of promise and purpose. It abounded with joy and possibility. Trite love songs that I had heard on the radio my whole life suddenly sounded new and fresh to me. I understood the impetuous that initially inspired the composer to write them. They were not his songs, they were my songs and the songs of lovers the world-wide.

Money, status, position, propriety no longer mattered to me anymore. All that mattered was Lo and my love for her and that she love me. I cast all caution to the wind (cliché as that may sound — there is a reason why cliché’s become cliché, and woe to he who knows not the power of love that created the cliché). I recklessly abandoned all of my worldly endeavors of 40 some-odd years. I spent prodigally and took many risks and chances. Yet it was all worth it. For this pearl of great price I would exchange the world. Am I a mad man? Yes — mad with the madness of the gods and goddesses who have infused in me their wildest hopes and dreams and wish to see their whims played out in my life and limbs. They, poor immortals, can risk nothing. They are the deathless ones. They are ever in the company and comfort of heavenly bodies. Down to me, a worthless rake, they have cast one of their own — a heavenly body, a god made flesh — and they take delight in my adventure, my playing the game with the highest of stakes. They live vicariously through my vice. They granted reality to my dreams and, as an added bonus, they blessed me with Erato’s song — the muse of erotic poetry.

[From the story, “Per-verse,” from the blog:]

Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail:

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