Whiskey Dick

Indeed, the idea of pleasure was mentioned the other day.

It is not that I hate the pleasure seekers. Hatred requires that these
pleasure seekers mean something to me, counted among something I understand.
Pleasure seekers are far gone--they are wired a different way, you
see. I have no contempt for them. They are like bees and ants and
monkeys, and they pursue the manner in which God constructed them.

God has constructed me in a different light and manner. He has created
me to embrace difficulty and do something new. God has told me I must
ride to strengthen the spirit, and go forward with my own project. God
has seen my suffering to date, and he smiles upon me. At times God
turns the lights out, and I am in darkness. But it is good to get away
from God from time to time, to have my alone time away from God.
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The hangover was mentioned the other day.

The hangover is a terrible thing. Riding can take it out of one, but
it affects the riding. It is better to be pure, to neither drink nor
drink cognac. However, if one must relax in the evening after 11 hours
of riding and great suffering, cognac is a cheap, light, and
intelligent way to relax. Nothing to carry, no bad health effects, and
relaxation. The alcohol leads to darkness and ill-health, and one
cannot carry such heavy liquids.

A woman with cognac is a good thing. I remember when I was in Portland
and I was lonely and needed a woman. I drank in the cognac but as the
night grew on I accidentally drank too many alcoholic drinks. I had
had 5 by the time I saw the two girls, and 8 by the time my head began
to spin at 3 a.m. Both came back with me to my room, but I was worthless.
They had me take my shirt off, and the sober-me would have obviously
helped them take off their clothes as well. But my speech was slurred,
my mind not capable of arousal, and my penis whiskey-dicked.