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a rather manly specimen

what's my name; what's my name?

George Byron
22 January
External Services:
  • dr_donjuan@livejournal.com

...& thou art dead
mad, bad, & dangerous to know
you know the games i play
I've recently divorced; I detest my deceased mother; I've near-drowned a few times in my own narcissism; I abuse nearly every person I love and every person who loves me; I'm the deformed transformed; I'm your doctor; I'm the best damn doctor there ever was.

The doctor Byron has but few demands as a practitioner, since his practice is really the encouragement of your own. The only way to be free of your monsters is to don the role of Hercules and assassinate them and then subject to infanticide, apparently.
The scribbler poet Byron is none of anyone's concern (unless seeking disappointment), for he is not like other poets (and certainly not like Rousseau).
The lordship Byron does not care to be a celebrity and states this while further cultivating his image around this statement, reaping the fondness of many while treasuring the respect of few.
The lover Byron does not exist; do not come asking for him.
i need to be bled dry//background
The young Byron had been urged into the medical track from a significantly early age having shown a reluctant inclination toward the natural philosophies in an era of new enlightenment outside of other old world traditions. These scientific strides were cultivated in the channels of political inclinations to the understated and malnourished alongside a “less promising” and “less respectable” talent of what he boastfully presented as “scribbling”, a form of poetic enterprise ranging from the obscene to the mundane.

Byron left his native England early-on following a tremulous, albeit successful succession of semesters in medical school in order to take on cross-continental internships, studying and working under the supervision of esteemed doctors in the French countryside and metropolitan Mediterranean. During this short amount of time between which he published thinly veiled accounts of his travels (released as Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage) and news-journals published accounts of his accomplishments, the young doctor-to-be achieved a certain status in the world of psychobiology, in his words stating: "I awoke one morning and found myself famous".

It seemed the next morning he found himself an A-lister, the most eligible bachelor, and then the next married. Immediately rumours and betting pools proposed the amount of time the relationship would last and the causations to the divorce. Some of the more popular theories were also the most heinous and scandalous theories, which especially took wind when the official statement of divorce was, in fact, processed. Byron ceased his activity in the foreign medical field and retreated to a certain lower-key Gale Hospital across the Atlantic to pursue radical individual research under his claim of "going to great lengths to help those who cannot help themselves" while rumours insist that the supposed "research" isn't so much to treat others as to ease his own mental unrests.
i step on your hands and mangle your feet
[ consider it a work in progress ]
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it's katamari friday!!

[used for roleplay purposes @ fully_baked_rp]
alternative sexualities, augusta ♥♥♥♥, badassmotherfuckerology, bothering mary ♥, crossing sexual borders, deviant sex, ether, fetishes, hypnofuckingtherapy, just--mary in general (don't-tell-mary), justiiiiine, katamari damacy, katamari fridays, night terrors, nightmares, not-leeches, texting under the influence, we ♥ katamari, wielding a cane