I feel no fear. None at all. I’ve spelunked underwater ice caves in the nude, wrestled a giraffe with an evil lepprechaun tied to its belly, played Russian roulette with a bi-polar support group, dug up a recently buried and still-decomposing body (an executed Texan “murderer” who was proven innocent postmortem via DNA testing) and cuddled with it for 72 hours, bungee jumped off the Sears Tower with the chord attached to my upper lip, ate dinner at KFC, and through all that, zero effect.

You know that inspirational story about that courageous guy who had a degenerative spinal disease who slowly lost use of all his body, but still loved life and continued to paint watercolors and volunteer his time at church? That guy is a fucking coward compared to me.

I’ve been told that I have a death wish by several people including my dominatrix, Castrato: Queen of the Night. I just laugh and drink a pint of Ganges river water.
They say what ever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

And as a failed abortion, I know that for a fact.