2011

6th Jan 2011

A powerful look at autism in the first four Journals now followed by a powerful look at sinning, the subculture of porn kinos, brothels, and strip clubs, the addiction to seeing naked women even when you have the most beautiful one at home. Is it a sickness or something glorious? When things decay they start to glow like a firefly. Glory is so close to sickness. What is most pleasurable is also most shameful. I feel glorious when I am being naughty. "I'm not a big sausage person." said Edward. "For me a little sausage goes a long way." The dichotomies are the only realities. This is one thing I have learned from my priapic lifestyle. Feeling ashamed is so exciting. Despair is the greatest fuel for the most exquisite intense erotic pleasure. Despair is the breeding ground for eroticism. It is the gunpowder that provides the explosion. When I travelled to Vienna and Oslo some years ago I was in one of the blackest despairs of my life yet was able to experience several days of the most intense erotic pleasure I can ever remember. My present contentment and serenity in the face of my wife's beauty is, conversely, death to my Eros.

24th October 2011

I like way Despair has found its theme now, how boring London is and essential it is to resume travelling alone for erotic and aesthetic experience. How London is finished for me (and yet there is Alexia, Vanessa, Katy to check and the occasional 150). 

In the past I said P&P was the centre of my life, pornography & prostitution; or T&E, Tallulah & Esmeralda; now perhaps it is TWAT, Travelling, Writing, -- & Tallulah.

The J.Lo Get Loud, Junior Senior, Durch die Nacht videos can really bring Cold Icy Air to life. The erotic wonderland really opens out for me at that point, but in Casanova we can see this ripeness turning rotten and me craving something real which arrives in the shape of --. Three years later the next book starts, married to --, and craving the old ripeness. 

The Cold Icy Air of the Mountains really IS an amazing record of the strip clubs & brothels of Munich, Berlin, Vienna, & Brussels in the period from 2003-2006.

Despair will document the red light life of central Europe in the early years of the 21st Century. It will become a rich social document of a way of life that is perhaps soon to disappear completely.

Autismus was a frozen stasis, Lotta was a budding, Cold Icy Air was a overflowing ripeness, Casanova was a turning rotten. Despair is a deadness, looking for new green shoots and wondering if it is possible, or whether it is like this for the rest of my life now. Now I have got -- I can go back to my writing, go back to my travelling, go back to my whoring--that is what Despair is about, and whether that is possible, and whether I CAN have my cake and eat it, and is it possible to enjoy the best of both worlds? 

11th October 2011

Going back to watch Adelaide on Monday night was lovely. So empty, I got her to dance to Delilah for me which she did, unable to stop grinning, she looked sooo beautiful up there. I must record What's Up Pussycat for her tonight as well. Injections? 

 

10th October 2011

I only write when I am totally alone, and that means when I am travelling. It used to be magical before because I was aching for love, and I fell in love with one Tallulah and Esmeralda after another, my heart yearned for them, and that made them seem more magical than they really were. Now I have love at home, I see them just in reality. That is another reason why the ice has melted, and the magical cold white mist of iciness has gone. One, the internet has meant men don’t need to go out for sex; two, lapdancing has destroyed stage dancing; and three, I have love at home so I am very disinterested when I go anyway. A triple whammy that explains the demise of the ice, the dwindling of Eros. Love's sun has dispelled the white icy mist.

***Today is the day of Pope leaving the Palace in Berlin 1927--thirteen years ago. What a difference to how I feel now. I was in despair then but filled with such erotic excitement in the midst of the despair, but as I have learnt despair is the essential pre-requisite for erotic excitement. Without despair there can be no Eros. Eroticism thrives and breeds on despair, it blooms and blossoms in pain and sadness. It is like rotting marsh gas. As things decay they become erotic. I try to manufacture bouts of pain and despair to be able to sniff up some erotic pleasure again.

15th August 2011 

Life will start to feel very cold and lonely very quickly. The cold icy air of the mountains is already starting to envelop me. There is a white icy mist everywhere like when I visited King Ludwig's castle. Have I really pushed away the most amazing beautiful tiny little thing in the world? To search Cologne and Frankfurt and Munich for voluptuous Tallulahs and Esmeraldas to feed my depraved appetite--to find in Germany a counterpart of --, or --, or --, or --. My opium addiction never went away, and I presume never will now. It is in my blood. It is who I am. I live for whores and strippers and once in a while one may fall into my clutches and we will have some affair, which will end when the claustrophobia gets too much for me. I wanted a looser arrangement to give me the distance I need, but she does not want that; how could she? She wants someone who is always there waiting at home for her, someone to go places with. I love her with all my heart, but I crave solitude and loneliness and the cold icy air which I can then salve with drink and pornography and prostitution. She cannot love me anymore. My pushing her away has closed her heart against me. I wonder if I will ever sleep with anyone else? Perhaps the gods will punish me for killing this love and make sure I never know a moment's passion again.

Is it not incredible that an intelligent, kind, gentle 41-year-old man is giving up the love of the most beautiful, loving woman in the world, to go back to a life of sinning and illicit thrills? Sad. I thought she was my destiny, but I distance myself from my destiny--to see what else fates hold for me back on the stormy seas. What adventures, dangers, Circes.

At the end of my life I still want her there holding my hand, and at the end of her life I still want to be there holding her hand. She was the special person of my life. You search the universe for the one person and she was it.