2008

23rd November 2008

LET'S GET WILD! LET'S GET MANIACAL! LET'S GET SATANIC! NO MORE THIS WEEPING AND HEAD DOWN! BE BLAZING WILD ALWAYS DO WHAT YOU SHOULDN'T DO! SEXUAL WILDNESS IS THE ONLY ONE OUT OF EMOTIONAL DESPAIR. IT ALWAYS HAS BEEN. EVERY TIME I HAVE HAD A BROKEN HEART I HAVE GONE SEXUALLY WILD AND DIRTY. IN 1992 I HAD SUCH A BROKEN HEART, I COULDN'T GET THROUGH THE DAY, SO THAT IS WHY I TOOK MYSELF DOWN A DARK WINDY DEAN STREET AND INTO SUNSET STRIP TO SEE MY FIRST EVER STRIPPER. I SOON FORGOT MY BROKEN HEART. DRINK TILL YOU FORGET OR FUCK TILL YOU FORGET. YES GO TO --. YES GO TO -- MONDAY. I BELIEVE DEEP DOWN YOU STILL HAVE SOME CARE FOR ME. I DON'T REALLY BELIEVE IT BUT I MAKE MYSELF BELIEVE IT. YOU ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON THERE HAS BEEN IN MY SAD MISGUIDED LIFE AND SO I HAVE TO KEEP BELIEVING THERE IS SOMETHING STILL IN YOUR HEART FOR ME. YOU KNOW I ALWAYS TRIED TO DO EVERYTHING I COULD FOR YOU. BE WILD NOW. BLAZING. BE NAUGHTY! KEEP BELIEVING SHE WILL COME BACK TO YOU. IT MAY TAKE A YEAR. YOU SHOULD NEVER QUITE DESPAIR BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT IS AROUND THE CORNER. -- COULD COME TO BED WITH ME MONDAY. -- COULD GO TO BED WITH ME TONIGHT. THAT BROWN JUMPER GIRL ON BUS THE OTHER MORNING MIGHT COME INTO MY LIFE. I COULD MEET SOMEONE IN A VIENNA HOTEL. YOU CAN FALL IN LOVE IN A SECOND. HOLD ON! HOLD ON! I want to write books about not being able to love. Nietzsche wrote about morality in society and cutting yourself off from society. I want to write books about people who are beautiful, kind, intelligent, but who cannot love and cannot be loved. That is how i will become a hero. GO WITH GLEE TO --! GO WITH GLEE TO --! SHE IS JUST PUNISHING YOU. SHE WILL COME BACK TO YOU WHEN SHE NEEDS YOU. HOLD ON HOLD ON FOR THE TURNING POINT! LOOK FOR EVERY OPPORTUNITY FOR SEX. DON'T PRESUME EVERYTHING IS ALL RIGHT IN OTHER PEOPLE'S RELATIONSHIPS. SHE COULD STILL NEED YOU. THAT IS WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER DESPAIR. THERE IS ALWAYS SOMETHING ELSE AROUND THE CORNER.

IT WASN'T WORKING. BETTER WE GO BACK TO BEING FRIENDS. WITH LOVE AND CARE. I WANT TO BE A HERO NOW! USE THIS PAIN AS MOTIVATION. BUFF AND SHINE THIS PAIN INTO A BEAUTIFUL JEWEL. I HAD A REALLY GOOD TIME WITH ADELAIDE. BE HAPPY! BE GLEEFUL! YOU GOT TO FUCK HER, SO MANY TIMES!

1st November 2008

I cannot read the book I want to read so I must write it myself. About Europe, night trains across Europe, Sibelius, aloneness. Sinfulness, opulence, waste. Sluttishness, lushness. I dream of a paperback book with my name on it. I want to absorb NEWSPAPERS, I do not want to read books. It is time to write MY books. This is my Confessions of an English Opium Eater. I am obsessed with Keats, Byron, Shelley. Chatterton. Trakl.

30th September 2008

Keep the Bell in Berlin, but a florid, overgrown with tropical fauna, a Berlin in an almost Amazonian rainforest, brown wood, black marble, ferns, gramophone horns, Klaus Kinskian, opera, witch music--all Adelaide's funny little comments, "shhh" coming up stairs looking up at me while banging her bag against every single railing. A real Sally Bowles moment. Oh I am going to love this book. My red Die Fackel books, Autismus, Lotta, The Cold Icy Air of the Mountains, Casanova. Then my first novel, Adelaide. Adelaide came up behind me, smiling and pointing at her teeth. She had a gold spot on one of her teeth which in my drunken state quite confused me. "I have got a diamond in my teeth" she said, amusingly, as a diamond would obviously not be gold. She then grinned at boy at far end of bar, and gestured to him to come to her with her finger. 

27th September 2008

I realised I loved being in the grip of an obsession! And so then realised how thrilled I was. I loved the highs and lows of it, and realised I should no longer fear the lows. I supposed it was not nice being the object of this obsession, but why did she keep encouraging me? After German went to Italy, why straightaway come back to my bed? When she moved into her new house, why straightaway invite me back to her bed? She had fuelled and fed the obsession, and could not now complain about it. I feel like something is coming out of the blue to hit me.

I always look at Nelson on his column when in London, I make a point of it, and feel a tug of love for him, this lonely man isolated. He reminded me of Ecce Homo, and that strange man on top of King's Cross Travelodge. No one at work knows me. No one at work knows you, so they cannot know me. Without knowing you, no one can have any understanding of me. Therefore the girls at the Kit Kat Club know me better than anybody else in this world. I will lay a large sum of money that Adelaide will be at the Pig this Friday.

26th September 2008

Every morning is so exciting waking up knowing I can go to the Pig to look for Adelaide later. So much better than waking up pinched and shrivelled like a prune because I cannot go to the Pig later by some self-ordnance--ridiculous. Alban Berg's music is a great comfort to me. Viennese Eroticism. If I DO lose all track of Adelaide in the six months starting in January, then I will travel to Vienna first I think. For Richard Gerstl and Alban Berg. 

Coming up in October Partenope: "Set in 1920s Paris. The comic tale unfolds around the all-powerful Partenope and her inner-circle of intriguing and mysterious admirers who jostle for position in her clandestine world where nothing is quite as it seems." And starring Rosemary Joshua inspiration for Semele in my first book! "Arsace is one of three suitors vying for the hand of Partenope, the highly desirable Queen of Naples. But Arsace’s former lover, Rosmira, will go to any lengths to scupper his attempt–even disguising herself as a man." 

Adelaide the actress. Adelaide the BIIITCH. Adelaide the slut.

22nd September 2008

I am with William Blake. Always go for the road of excess. If someone forces you to run one mile, run two. If someone asks for your jumper, give them your cloak. Always go too far. It is impossible to over-react. I feel things intensely. “The Fascist Face of the Baby--meaning the sheer power of a baby's feelings and their effect on the people around them. Desire is always in excess of the object's ability to satisfy it.” Adelaide must feel overwhelmed by me sometimes--like when she squeezed her eyes shut when dancing on my side of stage so as not to have to look into my horrible eyes. But I feel she is intense and passionate too. 

16th September 2008

Excess="Extravagant violation of law, decency or morality". If I am with Adelaide, I will give all my money to Adelaide. If I am not with Adelaide I will give all my money to the Black Pig. What about me was so compelling? Excessive behaviour draws on our attention. Excessive behaviour makes us excessively interesting to others. Suspend our fear and excitement. Falling in love, conversion experiences. "The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom". What I learned in my excessive visits to Europe and in my excessive pursuit of Adelaide. You never know what is enough till you know what is more than enough. To discover just how much we really need. 

Addiction=Where excess becomes a way of life in a consciously self-damaging way. Why DOES Adelaide like me so much that she keeps coming back to me when she is the most  beautiful and sexiest woman in the world and can have any man she wants? It is the miracle of my life. When I am not going to the Pig to look for Adelaide my life is totally empty. 

WAS NICHT IM BAEDEKER STECHT=What’s not in the Baedeker guide.

“An ecstacy of eroticism cast the world into chaos” Hans Ostwald, 1931.

Those brutalised by war become bizarrely eroticised and dance-madness was its improbable visible symptom. “Not since Paris in the 1860s had a European city experienced the Edenic flush of total erotic freedom”.

“Tingel-Tangels, ugly Wilhelmian whorebars where honky-tonk entertainers intermingled with their equally lowbrow clients.” 

The difference in Berlin is that you can meet girls like Adelaide,etc, but drink with and fuck them as well—all for just 60-70 Euros! In Brussels or Frankfurt, you watch the dancers, drink horribly expensive champagne with the girl but get nothing for it (short of 200 euros). In Berlin you can drink with them and fuck them as well, cheaply. And the women can be stunning—Yulia, Riccarda, Diana, for example!

“Every single night before June 1920 began to resemble New Year’s, or Sylvester’s, Eve.”

If Adelaide wants to stay with her German ‘husband’ now, great, even more chance for me to save money. Adelaide was the most beautiful, sexiest woman who had ever set foot on the planet. And for a year and a half, on and off, I had been seeing her. The brown marble and ferns, honkytonky music. Half-naked girls everywhere you looked. And on stage one totally naked girl, with her leg up on a man's shoulder,showing him all she had. This is the world, which if you put it in a book, would sound incredibly sexual and pornographic, obscene, yet this is the world I live in every night, so I am totally used to it, it seemed normal. It was the world outside this arcadian space that I could not cope with. Pornophilia. I was a pornophiliac and a scopophiliac. I want to write the great novella of that seedy strip club world, foggy Soho and Berlin. A Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky world. A Fu Manchu world. It is time to start writing my novella. It was Adelaide's foot that was now on the man's shoulder. 

10th September 2008

I do not regret all the money I spent on whoring and travelling. On the contrary, I wish I had spent more and gone with Clarisse. I wish had spent more and gone with Martina in Nuremberg. I wish I had spent more and spent an hour with Greek Andrea in Soho. I only regret what I did NOT do, haters! Sexiness fuels my writing and my inspiration. I feel so strong, and powerful, and happy, now I feel free of her again. 

This is no time to be counting pennies and trying to save money, and live within my means!!! This is the very sexual crucible of my life. My whole future life hinges on these days and nights. 

We will never be together as a couple, so let me continue to enjoy my favourite stripper. What to make of Adelaide's conflicting behaviour? Tells me to delete her phone number and never write to her again, then dances to Rihanna Umbrella very next time I see  her, then refuses to take my money, dances to Put You To Bed, Don’t You Cry Tonight, and I Want To Know Where Love Is, then joyfully treats me like absolute shit on Wednesday night, then lets me come all over her Thursday night!!!!! While Lily, the greatest stripper who ever lived, the most beautiful and sexiest woman who ever lived, is on the stage of the Pig, this is no time to be counting pennies and staying away!!!!!!!!!!! NONE of that money I spent in August was wasted, because every bit of it bought me a night with Lily. All the money I spent at Pig and Jim's kept me close to Lily, so it was the best money I ever spent in my life. Spend more! Dancing on a volcano of debt. Go back to sexual priapism again. Dr Pozzi at Home. Repression solves nothing. Repression just wastes valuable days and months of your life that you could be living to the nth degree. In August I lived to the nth degree, at Pig and Jim's. 

7th September 2008

Whenever any of these small nobodies attack me, I think of Martina’s huge breasts in Nuremberg, I think of Andrea’s huge breasts in Soho, I think of Clarisse’s huge breasts in Brussels, I think of Diana’s huge breasts in Berlin, I think of Irina in Munich, of Riccarda, Yulia, Iga. This is my strength. This is the secret source of my Nile.

12th August 2008

Brussels is funny. I do feel this attraction back to it all the time. Just to START my journey though. It is a city of Black Masses. Beautiful big breasted whores, Clarisse in Empire. Beautiful breakfast melts in the Ibis Cafe Belge, Stellas to start my day off, before heading into bouncy sweaters of Gare du Midi, Pullman Bar for Guardian and Maes,before off to Wiertz, deeply spiritual erotic communion, Modern Art, all the erotic memories coming back from the journeys to Malmo, Vienna, Berlin, Oslo, Munich, I started from here. Of course I must go in October and send my 7000 to 9000.

As always the Proms is the only thing that seems to salve this battered soul, this old lacerated heart. My love looked at me so longingly yesterday, as if to say “Why are you doing this for me? Why are you being so kind?” She needs my help as a friend but when I give it without demur she feels so guilty and ashamed. I love her. If I was with her, I would be giving everything to her, so what difference if I am not with her? I have found the woman I was meant to love, I will do all I can for her. How lovely to have a day without drink! I drift around in a dull, dead dream, so drink-deadened has my brain become. A mumbling incoherent wreck. I am shamed by my inarticulacy. I have nothing to say, ever. I am just compelled by beauty, and as such, could just look at my love’s face for the rest of my life. I am convinced her face is the most beautiful thing that has ever existed. Helen sailed towards Troy because you should always travel to what you believe is THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING. My love has been the most beautiful thing for the last two and a half years and still is. She is — now, her body seems in the early stages of falling apart, from various ills, yet I looked at her last night and just could not believe how beautiful she is. I am more in awe of her beauty the longer I know her. She holds me completely captive.

30th July 2008

My books are my attack on society and on morality. They are my Nietzsche books. They are all I have got apart from drink and my tenuous friendship with Adelaide.

“Adventure was the throb in the blood, the beer in the glass, the light in the bulb.”

“We were in search of that brackish crepescule, that grey zone, that netherland where beer meets dark, where soul floats into alignment with ale, where I ‘encounter darkness as a bride and hug her in my arms.’ Because ‘it is obvious enough that the sexual life flourishes better in a dim murky light; it is at home in the chiaroscuro and not in the glare of neon light.'” Reading Henry Miller I know I need a woman again, any woman. A whore. I only want to pay for it if I cannot have Adelaide. I want to kiss her again. I want to feel her tongue in my mouth. If I cannot have her this weekend, I will have anyone. “The tortuous spiritual affirmations of Crane’s poetry, with its illumination and exaltation, represented the positive side of an intense lifelong struggle against despair and self-disgust. Hart Crane is a legendary figure among American poets. In his personal life he showed little self-esteem, indulging in great and frequent bouts of alcohol abuse. In his art, however, he showed surprising optimism. Critics have contended that for Crane, misery and despair were redeemed through the apprehension of beauty, and in some of his greatest verses he articulated his own quest for redemption.”

“For Crane, the film character’s optimism and sensitivity bears similarities to poets’ own outlooks toward adversity, and the tramp’s apparent disregard for his own persecution is indication of his innocence: 'We will sidestep, and to the final smirk / Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb / That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us, / Facing the dull squint with what innocence / And what surprise!' Aside from “Chaplinesque” and “Lachrymae Christi,” the most impressive poem Crane produced before 1924 was probably “For the Marriage of Faustus and Helen,” a relatively expansive work revelling in the optimism that Crane believed prevalent throughout America at the time—the early 1920s. With this poem, he reinforces his own optimism by setting the marriage in contemporary times: Faustus rides a streetcar, and Helen appears at a jazz club. Here Faustus represents the poet seeking ideal beauty, and Helen embodies that beauty.” I work to give me money to drink, and watch strippers, and fuck whores. “By the time that White Buildings appeared in print, Crane’s intense relationship with sailor Emil Opffer had already faded. Crane returned to his former ways, enjoying promiscuity, abusing alcohol, and alternating from obnoxious euphoria to disturbing depression.” When people attack you, what else can you feel but flattered that they think about you so much! Exalted! As Oscar says “Praise makes me humble but when I am abused I know I have touched the stars”. “Crane … was woefully deficient in the stabilizing apprehension of the concrete,” Antonius conceded. But he added that through this deficiency Crane “purchased a kind of heroic redemption, in that he was enabled to register most vividly reality as he did apprehend it …, and hence make of his death that sacrifice by which an age enables those whom it destroys to accomplish what we others need to know.”

Autismus is good because it is so real, written in blood straight from the veins, whereas the start of Black Narcissus is bad because it is so fake and striving for affect. It does get real though, more and more so as it progresses. There is little fakeness in Cold Icy Air or Casanova. Rename the first two books LULU and LOTTA?? Fill them more with sex and fauna. At the moment Adelaide‘s life is pretty horrible, so you should help her while she needs it. Amazing breakthroughs in all four books, LULU, LOTTA, THE COLD ICY AIR OF THE MOUNTAINS, and CASANOVA. Cinema is only good to prepare for the Esmeralda, and I feel like it now. Not below my waist, but in my head. Viennese Eroticism is the theme that runs through the four books though Vienna itself is seldom ever mentioned! I think my train journey this autumn will have to aim itself at Vienna again. Even if it takes my debt to 9,000, I think it has to be done. Start off in Brussels for Clarisse, Wiertz and Modern Art, down to Munich for Atlantic City and Caribic, across to Vienna. If it has to wait till spring, then it can.

When I needed her so much, she let me into her life and made me happy. Now she needs me so much, I will do all I can for her.

8th July 2008

I am feeling the cold icy air of the mountains, for first time in long time. To be back with those whores in Brussels, and Berlin, and Vienna, and Munich. By October Adelaide will be back with him, I can go travelling again.

I am Edvard Munch.I am Friedrich Nietzsche. 

How close I am feeling with Nietsche again. It is a cloudy summer day, big balcony windows open to fresh cool breeze. Raining torrentially for so much of yesterday and Sunday. More showers for today, heavy rain for Wednesday and Thursday. Beautiful. In the old days I would have been in heaven. His cold icy intellectualism and dirty sensuousness in the brothels. He tried to intellectualise himself out of his shame. It is good to be dirty. But oh there has never been anything better than Adelaide. On the bus home from the cinema last Monday night, was a high moment of my life. If it takes money to get those high moments, well, that is what I have always done. Still my debt stands at £7,090. 

£248 spent this week, all on pleasure seeking! But it is better to run up a £6,000 debt and spend all my money on pleasure seeking, isnt it? Other than live like a monk & die so unhappy with so little pleasure. Carry on!

She rang me when she finished to ask where I was, and then I saw her coming along the road in long green swirling pattern dress to ankles, showing all cleavage, what a vision--and for me! We sat and talked for a while, she leaning down and hugging my stomach, so tired was she. She let me touch her bum and discover she had knickers on which surprised me. I got bus home with her and kissed her goodbye just by her front door before getting bus home, feeling so totally EMPTY.

17th February 2008

Two sleepless nights Friday and Saturday night, waking about midnight or 1AM and then just lying there for rest of the night. Head feeling like it is going to explode, under so much pressure, then at 650AM a bang and smoke, and water starting coming shooting out from pipe under sink.

I will drink myself to death like Guy Debord. This is my Situationist revolution, all the while earning more money than ever before. I'll write my red cover Die Fackels documenting my revolution. I will never leave Berlin again as long as Adelaide is at the Black Pig.

I looked at her once in her new dark little anorak outside Berlin Zoo and she looked so small and tiny, the way she always used to. She looked tired and stressed and vulnerable. "Why you talking to me now?" "Because you’re not dangerous." "I’m strange." "Yes, you’re still strange! I don’t cheat. I don’t know which man I want to be with." On bus I asked how much she made so she got her money out and asked me to count it, about 25. I said "I don’t even have any to give you." "I wasn’t asking you to." "No, I know." With the Euromillions she said "just give me ten thousand, enough to clear my credit card debt, buy some things, buy some new boots." I said "I hate going home all alone", “but you like being alone”.