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that sinking feeling… that familiar taste of inadequacy, cousin to discontentment, comrade to forthrite abandonment… as a moth to a flame is martyr to her desire so is falling short of our own true measures, when in a moment hindsight seizes to be comparable to forsight- headonistic tendencies seemingly all apparent and appealing.. this is beggining to sound like that rhetoric that your farty old neighbour would use on an impressionable 3year old mind and expect it to be legendary.. the measure of a man through a childs looking glass is just but that if you know wot i mean. wot tickles my curious fancy though is how the measure of a woman is trans gender.. however it resonates so much more via a strong man… he must have had a strong mother to give him such upstanding morals and eticacy and so forth but hows about giving a woman credit for- hmmm? but as much as that measure is a gender bender its crossing of that divide is wanton, fickle as is the nature of women- circumstancial ethics and the like… could i be anti feminist i think nay, am i hot blooded hetro i know nothing else! the point of this rambling, when so many questions come to the fore all at once and suddenly its mind numbing so most sensibly we must pardon the numb mind should we not? now more to the point insatiabilis enquires ”measure for measure- what is the nature of a man’s measure?”