Self-castration with semi-sharp shards of pottery is not something I would ever elect to do, but apparently it happened in Ancient Rome every March 24th with some regularity. The whole de-balling thing was done by the priests of Attis so that they might feel the same pain he delivered upon himself.

Attis, the consort of Cybele in Phrygian and Greek mythology, is my namesake, and I only recently found out that he was infamous for his own self-castration, and for subsequently inspiring mere mortals to commit copycat eunuch-izing.

So, I only found this out *after* I took the name, but even if I’d known it then, I still would’ve adopted his nom de plume. After all, you have to admit that self de-nutting requires a particularly hearty strength of will. The natives respected such discipline so much, they had a special day for it. That 3/24 of each year was known as “Dies Sanguinis”, or “Day Of Blood”. They’d be drunk, of course (and obviously there were copious amounts of alcohol at such an event), but you’d have to at least be sober enough to perform the surgery.

And if you can still see clearly enough to set your scrotum free from its mortal coil, you ain’t so drunk that you can’t feel pain. And I have trouble imagining a pain worse than presto-change-o becoming an insta-eunuch.

Anyway, enough of that. Celibacy has its benefits and virtues, but it’s not something I plan on adhering to for the rest of my life. After all, who knows when I shall have myself set free from the bonds of abstinence?

When desire eventually overtakes control, I suppose.

In any case, unrelated (mostly): I know my incessant yapping on here may be quickly reaching its numbing point, so I think it’s time to turn to some pics. So here’s a recent one of myself and one big motherfuckin’ snake. (That’s only half of him there in the photo.)

The serpent in question is a Salvadoran Boa and he’s in dire need of a good home. He’s currently at Pet Kingdom over by the Sports Arena, and he’s quite a handsome young man, and not too expensive, either. (I used to use those same words to describe myself, actually, but now I’ve gone up in price.) And I know you can’t really make it out from the photo, but he’s definitely got the kind of face you wouldn’t mind waking up to in the morning.

And here’s one of myself and Lee Ving of the legendary L.A. punk band Fear when I saw them at the Casbah a few months back. (I look the way I do because I’d just spent nearly the whole show in the pit, and I was drunk as fuck.)

And now I leave you with, well, someone you’ve forgotten. It’s Darby Crash, and...

Fuck you, it’s The Germs.

CVRRENT SOVND: “We Must Bleed” by The Germs from “What We Do Is Secret”

-- ∆☩Y§ ☨♆∀☥✠