Sex.Food.Rush.Chill.
What else is there? Really?
Epicurus — that devil-dog from 300BCE — would have stepped back from such a statement. He would have shaken his head like a dog, olive oil and bits of sardine flying, his wang hanging out of his toga and said with authority — let’s party!
Sex: If you’re not driven by your hormones to procreate — then why are you even here? (Even it no progeny could ever come of your libidinous acts.)
Food: There are so many flavors, textures, and culinary sensations that obesity should be a badge of honor, not a shroud of shame. Oh, and Al-Ko-Hall – straight up!
Rush: The need for speed, death defying feats, an adrenaline high and risk — it’s all about the risk baby.
Chill: You need time, we all need time to pontificate. Sit back, puff a doobie, gaze at the sunset, the stars, or each other and just contemplate all of it — or none of it.
Sex.Food.Rush.Chill
Anonymole - apocryphal agitators 
We’re almost on the same page here, but my list is 50% shorter than yours, containing only food and chill now that I’m approaching 50 and have analyzed the importance right out of reproduction and “excitement”.
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I did skip the fifth item that belongs in this list. The topic that allow this list to be created in the first place: The Creative Act. But it didn’t fit. Sex.Food.Rush.Chill is practically a bumpersticker — or t-shirt slogan.
• Make.S.F.R.C ?
• S.F.Create.Rush.Chill?
Naw.
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I was just discussing this topic with an old man. Conclusion: if you can’t eat (a lot) drink, or fuck, what’s the point (of being alive?) Good question. Yeah, I put on the colorful spandex and raced my bike on the road…not rush hour traffic, but out there. I lived for the rush. When that’s gone, what’s left? Well, when a beautiful woman gets old and ugly and no one’s lined up to get in her pants, what’s left for her? Gotta adapt or die. We all gotta do it and I look at young people these days and think…”…you have no idea…”
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I feel sorry for the lot. I did a shit-ton of stupid, crazy, wild-ass things in my youth. Survived it, doan-cha-know, and now have stories to tell. Millennials these days? What stories will they spin?
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They were polite, correct and unoffensive.
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Well, disagreement with the third, but then…Youth and stupidity go hand in hand. We do things we don’t see as daredevilish, dangerous, hazardous or stupid. We get older (notice I didn’t say”mature”) there are those who seek excitement and a sense of accomplishment in radical ways. I am not one of those. Thanks for the pictures taken while hanging by a steel eyelet hammered into the face of a rocky cliff (you crazy fuck). I have lived a life of more sedate and on occasion cerebral hobbies. I don’t golf (boring), or put on spandex undies and ride a bike in rush hour traffic (stupid). I can tube down a lazy river, drive a wee bit too fast on two lanes in NorCal after a glass of great wine. Stand on top of a PA stack and air pose like young Sammy Hagar, use power tools (dangerous enough, right?) work on a car on jack stands (however that gets scarier every year). But wingsuit off a mountain into the open door of a single engine plane? High dive off a cliff? The only time I drank Red Bull ten minutes later Kim Davis (RIP) from Point Blank and I were sitting in a dead stop traffic jam, middle lane, in Houston needing to piss like a pair of racehorses. So…I leave crazy and breathtaking to the crazies. Sagittarian though I be, I prefer to be alive and the life of the party.
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You extol the virtues of sedentary contemplation now… But I’ll wager dimes to dollars that you risked hide an hair more than once during you late teens and twenties.
I’m damned amazed I’m still alive.
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