IT ONLY HURTS WHEN YOU THINK . . .

An arbitrary, occasional, disorganized, impromptu, sporadic, multi-inspirational, spasmodic, heart-rending, heart-rendering, semiquasi - continuing series. Artem Vladimirovich Kulikov, a senior nuclear (as opposed to nucular ) physicist in the Soviet Union, defected to the United States on Christmas Eve. According to a high-placed and high-minded spokesperson for the Reagan Administration, who asked to remain anonymous, asylum has been granted.

The spokesperson took advantage of the occasion to provide us with a memorable statement that may, or may not, bear tremendous sociopolitical significance:

“We’re always gracious hosts, but we’d rather get one of them (a scientist) than a ballet dancer.”

Speak for yourself, fearless spokesperson. Some of us would rather get Nadezhda Pavlova.

The New York City Opera may be a nice place to work, especially now that a former singer is calling the shots. It may provide a warm home for a diligent, talented, versatile character mezzo-soprano like Muriel Costa-Greenspon. But the salary scale isn’t exactly terrific.

That prosaic fact of life must remain a matter of continuing concern to your average budding Bruennhilde, underpaid Pagliaccio and luckless Lucia. But it cannot be of much continuing concern to Costa-Greenspon who, incidentally, is well-remembered in San Diego as a wily Mistress Quickly and in Los Angeles as the half-buttocked old woman in “Candide.”

The canny Costa-Greenspon, you see, recently won $1.7 million--repeat, $1.7 million-- in the New York State Lotto game. The singer took advantage of the occasion, and the lottery, to provide us with a memorable statement that may, or may not, bear tremendous socioeconomic significance:

“This is really something, but to tell you the truth, nothing can compare to the thrill of going onstage and singing.”

We have learned, moreover, that the singer’s husband, Giorgio Costa, plans to continue with his work as a master carpenter at the Metropolitan Opera. Nothing, one deduces, can compare to the thrill of going backstage and hammering.

Yes, Giorgio.

If Barbra Streisand can warble Schubert and Linda Ronstadt can cough Mimi in “La Boheme,” perhaps anything can happen.

No. Not perhaps. Anything has happened.

Malcolm McLaren, mastermind of a noble operatic ensemble called the Sex Pistols and erstwhile Svengali-of-sorts to a gifted quasi- ersatz- castrato called Boy George, has, we are assured, come up with a wondrous pop-disco-country-punk version of “Madama Butterfly.”

McLaren has taken advantage of the occasion to provide us with a statement that may, or may not, bear tremendous erotic-revolver significance:

“Opera seems fresh to me today because it’s difficult to elicit passion or emotion from most of today’s pop records. It’s simply because the words love and baby and come home and go back and miss you just don’t cut through anymore.”

Anyone for supertitles?

This one is delicate. Truth, however, transcends delicacy.

It comes, courtesy of a sensitive and generous reader, from the Fiji Times of Aug. 15. Lest I be misunderstood, I’ll pass along the salient points verbatim. The dateline is London.

“A senior music lecturer from New Zealand, who creates melodies by urinating on drums, was yesterday recovering from what was described as a ‘spectacular’ seven-hour show at the Edinburgh Festival.

“John Cousins, from Canterbury University in Christchurch, stunned, astonished and amazed his audience with his unusual, if not unique, performance that close friends said was physically and mentally demanding.

“According to the friends, Mr. Cousins was ‘in good physical shape though very tired’ and unable to talk to the media. The 40-year-old lecturer, controversially described in the Guardian’s art columns last week . . . performs naked and lying down. In previous interviews, Mr. Cousins has stated his performance was inspired by the sound of dripping water in a New Zealand canyon.

“Mr. Cousins, who fasted for four days before last night’s show--which was watched by ever-changing groups of about 15 people during seven hours--drank large amounts of water during the performance. This provided the source of his music. When not drinking, Mr. Cousins breathes through a tube that inflates a dome beneath glass tubes covered with rubber membranes. These are the drums.

“Mr. Cousins’ urine hits the membranes, creating the drum-like sound before dropping to the two domes beneath. . . .”

And here we thought “the CIVIL warS” was modern.

The Olympics may be over, but the world’s newest, hardest and perhaps oddest aquatic art form strokes onward if not upward.

Candy Costie and Tracie Ruiz, the American Woglinde and Wellgunde who brought home (Rhine?) gold medals, have inspired a series of nationwide shows called “Classical Splash.” These balletic bashes will feature synchronized swimmers accompanied by full symphony orchestras.

Knox unflavored gelatin, which is used by the soggy ballerinas to keep their hair stiff underwater, may or may not sponsor the unique performances. The biggest unanswered questions, however, involve the liquid accompaniment.

Will the instrumental ensemble play in a gigantic tub? And will there be synchronized maestros?

Karl U. Smith, emeritus professor of psychology at the University of Wisconsin, has come up with a theory that could change our perception of the complexion of history. He has linked the dominance of one side of the face--the left side, of course--with musical talent.

The good professor, using his own eyes as well as those of computers, has studied hundreds of faces. Nearly 90% turned out to be right-faced. That is, nearly 90% used the right side of the face--moved lip, tongue and jaw--more than the left.

Here’s the rub: 98% of the opera singers viewed happened to be left-faced. “In fact,” says the intrepid researcher who analyzed old pictures as well as new videotapes, “of the talented musicians I observed, almost all were left-faced.”

In left-faced people such as Beethoven, Brahms, Liszt and Wagner, Prof. Smith discovered the left brow lower than the right, plus a preponderance of dimples and wrinkles on the left side.

He took advantage of the occasion to make a statement that may, or may not, bear tremendous musico-scientific significance:

“Facedness is clearly noticeable in infants, which means that it develops two or three years before handsedness. This suggests that facedness is related to how the brain develops right after birth, which indicates that certain traits are inherited.”

Mozart, no doubt, was left-faced. One wonders about Salieri.

Now, professor, what about two-facedness. And blank-facedness. And about-facedness. . . .

All too often, we are told, concerts attract large audiences but no critics. In St. Louis last November, a concert attracted no audience but one critic.

As usual, I exaggerate. The concert by the New American Woodwind Quintet in the 500-seat Nelson Art Gallery attracted one critic and one museum employee.

The quintet, like many an ensemble these days, apparently had fallen victim to bad advance publicity. Well, that isn’t exactly accurate. The quintet fell victim to no advance publicity.

Never mind. Unfazed by the small Missouri turnout, the four professors from Southern Illinois University in Carbondale took comfort in the hope that enthusiastic crowds will attend their programs later this year in Europe, Asia and New York.

They played on, blithely, and, according to Larry Marsh of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, they played “with excellent balance, elegant phrasing, faultless intonation and technical brilliance.”

The critic also took advantage of the occasion to make an ecstatic statement that may, or may not, bear tremendous socio-artistic significance. It related to absences: “no honking of noses, rattling of cellophane, fits of coughing, or extraneous applause. And no one rushed to the parking lot before the final note faded into silence.”

Now, if we can just figure out a way to have a concert without an audience and without music

The Times is grateful to the eminent ex-Viennese composer Paul A. Pisk for an earth-shattering newsflash from the always adventurous Austrian capital.

The Vienna Racing Board, it seems, collaborated on Oct. 3 with the International Richard Strauss Society for an unprecedented “symbiosis of culture and sports.” Six horse races invoked references to Strauss operas. There was, for instance, an Arabella Steeplechase, not to mention an Elektra Handicap for Yearlings--presumably vengeance-crazed yearlings.

Strains of “Rosenkavalier” and “Salome” blared forth via loudspeakers (everyone knew “Light Cavalry” would be out of place). Trophies included Richard Strauss books and Richard Strauss records, and, according to one newspaper, the society signed up many a new member.

Doo-dah. Doo-dah.