February 29, 1980
“Restlessness cannot be quenched by the surge of coitus. Oh, it is a rush, and like any rush, it leaves one satisfied and deprived. Sex destroys love when it is mere ritual, done for the sake of custom or out of a sense of boredom on a Saturday night. Don Juan, oh great Don Juan, you pale to Lord Byron in the art of misery. Overcoming again and again, only to repeat and rinse. How must the nihilist live in order to destroy? The structure of passion leaves you chained, dependent on restless desires. The rituals, the pursuit, the preordained play of sensual forces lead to the act, to the release, to an end and a beginning. Fuck all you want – it’s a pastime, it’s for our amusement and distraction, insulation from the harshness of reality, from everything else beyond the self. Masturbation, may it prosper, for it is only an exploitation of oneself.”
