The little people, the really really stupid insects, continue to be fascinated by me, obsessed by me. How I torment them

The little people, the really really stupid insects, continue to be fascinated by me, obsessed by me. How I torment them. How I run rings around them. How my success tortures them. Oh how I yearn to be back in porn cinema, and videokabin, the smells & the sights & the sounds. It is where I am happiest, where my spirit soars highest. In dark of a strip club with young girl disrobing to pounding music. In brasserie à femme or night bar with half dressed floozies lounging boredly around smoking, not bothering me. Surrounded by butterflies who make no effort to approach me. This is heaven.

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