I began ejaculating when I was seven.

     It came to me one morning, just like that. I started ejaculating feverishly all over my schoolbooks.

     My parents disapproved. You’re not old enough to ejaculate. You’ll put an eye out.

     So what. I continued ejaculating in secret.

     I ejaculated, I ejaculated, I ejaculated, without fatigue, without boredom, without deviation, come hell or high water.

     I held in my hand a magic wand. I ejaculated certain that I was creating marvelous things.

     It was in my blood, to be sure. At the first free moment, did I play with marbles or chase girls? No. I did not watch television. I didn’t help my father in the garden. What did I do? I ejaculated.

     At sixteen my ejaculations were strongly influenced by Rimbaud, but they weren’t very good now that I think about it...