To make testicle matters worse, there was the book by Mantuk Chia on the arts of Tantric love which I had been given only a month before by Gabriela, Italian siren, mother of two, friend of Ryan Stefans, my best childhood friend...Gabriela and I had caught each other’s attention at a coffee shop meeting arranged by Ryan that included her gracefully Italian father Tavio, a man who loved poetry and the Romantics, Italy’s own Giacomo, and the odes of John Keats...and I loved this man instantly because I too loved Keats, and the beautiful, fertile, and sagely odes of the short man torn by his consumptive kin and the evil naysayers of the time who couldn’t see beauty for the trees...Percy Shelley, who had been critical of Keats, (who returned the criticism to Shelley by saying "that he would do well to load every rift with ore") died in the water with a copy of Keats’ poems in his pocket...I love them both dearly for their courage...What Keats understood about existence, and this on a cellular level, because he had lived tuberculosis through his mother and brothers’ deaths, what he understood about time on earth or rather the stargazer mantra mucous was this: Once you realize the false needs time and what needs time is false, you are nearer the reality, which is timeless, ever in the now...If you need time to achieve something, it must be false. The real is always with you...
I see Keats on the Isle of Wight writing hundreds of lines a day of Endymion with his bust of Shakespeare and thoughts of King Lear in his head and all the grace of a palsic child but on he went and how he dominated the ascendant years after his death and how the mimes revere his treatises on beauty! So to have that period of the odes with the splenetic knowledge that his own demise was not only certain but incredibly near...to have those words fall together, to be born again with each muse obeyance...Keats how the muse loved you!
Chia’s book was mainly instructions in the new age for the retention of seminal fluid...I held hokey thoughts in abeyance, I put away my manifesto on flake theory and I remembered I had recently become a student teacher of the I Ching in my spare time...I had to have a wide view of the interrelationships of life, such as only unusual men attain, and so this book...this book told me that losing semen through ejaculation was like pissing away gold from a Fort Knox urinal...that the majority of all men were unquestionably fond of pulling their pork and/or screwing their chitterlings off, that in doing so were losing the energy--and this is spiritual energy mind you--which cannot be explained properly in logos, by a thousand loose meat sandwiches, or the genius of a couple Confucius...needles to say it had to be known just by knowing...
I had gotten far enough along in the book to break through the bombast and theory and into some of the actual practices for seminal retention ...and mostly it came down to breathing, patience, and various cock muscle building exercises meant to train a relatively unknown muscle to turn off the flow of a fluid from the vas defferens to the urethra, thereby giving the feel and body pleasure of orgasm without the discharge and release...Now, mind you, there a was of the problem of what the body was to do with the retained manna, how it would process this pure energy of a diffuse tbomb of ejaculation because this is a tremendous amount of energy to suddenly be putting somewhere it wasn't used to being...like in the ankle or the knee...The basic theory of Chia was that the stuff had to be steamed and moved up the spine, along the energy highway, weaving nerves, synapses, ganglia pia mater, white commissure, foramen, and ligamentum denticulatum...up to the pia matter of the brain, to the center of nirvana dream plexus & Kundalini midway-to-enlightenment holding pen...supposedly, when the human began to access the supermundane, the energy in the balls would move to somewhere behind the eyes, giving existence and phenomena their rosy glow which many yogi's have claimed to bear witness to...which is why I began to practice seminal retention in the latent light of my San Francisco bathroom ...
-Michael Price
