2012

 

9th November 2012

I AM A BLAZING COMET. I AM FRANK WEDEKIND. I AM FRANCIS BACON. I WANT TO REVEL IN THAT GUTTER AND FLAUNT IT IN PEOPLE'S FACES MORE AND MORE.

FORCE OTHER PEOPLE INTO DOING BAD THINGS TO YOU, TO SMASH AGAINST YOU LIKE MOTHS AGAINST A LIGHTHOUSE. THEN YOU CAN PLAY THEM LIKE A PIANO. PROVOKE THEM MORE AND MORE, LURE THEM INTO YOUR TRAP, LIKE THE JOKER.  SHOCK THEM MORE AND MORE, DO MORE SHOCKING THINGS TO YOURSELF THAN THEY COULD POSSIBLY DO TO YOU.

I PUSH PEOPLE AND I PUSH PEOPLE. TILL THEY DO WHAT I WANT.

9th October 2012

I am sick and I want somewhere to spread my sickness around. A bug doesn’t choose where it is going to settle in your body, it just finds its way to a nice warm little cranny and thinks yes, this is a perfect place to spread my sickness from. I have found a perfect place in the Pig, and also in Brussels, Berlin, Vienna, and Munich. The pendulum.

21st September 2012

I think I have barely even scratched the surface of what sin can offer me. I think the great peaks are still out there waiting for me to discover. Up to now I have just been wandering in the foothills, that is why all the ice seems to be melting. I want to go really crazy, more than before. That is why I try to break through the envelope and be crazy at the Scotsman, I am searching for greater highs. But right now I have no money to mount any more expeditions and that makes me frustrated and impatient. I wait news of an inheritance that could change everything and bring travelling back to life for me. I yearn to be heading South again. I yearn to be heading back to the cold icy air of the mountains. Yet nothing in life has made me happier than when -- was holding my hand so tightly on the way back from the hospital on Monday.

To have a great time you must travel with lots of money and let yourself go. Not holding yourself back and counting the pennies everywhere you go. You are wasting their time and your own. But I have let myself go too many times in the past and now my mountain of debt prevents me from even leaving the house. I await news of the financial miracle that will cure everything.

13th September 2012

Dreamt of a map of Europe where a volcano seemed huge and seemed to cover the whole of north of Italy, I was thinking it must be Vesuvius or Etna. There were also three white mountains marked but all on their own, I was thinking the biggest must be Everest, and not sure what the other two were. Interesting I am dreaming of huge volcano in northern Italy, and three cold white icy mountains in Europe. It is because I am being called back to Europe?

24th July 2012

Standing in front of bathroom mirror this morning with a down but swollen cock, thinking I want to recapture the Eros of those first trips to Munich, Brussels, Vienna, Berlin. To feel that fresh bloom of sensuality. I think only a wiping out of my debts can make this possible. That debt on my shoulders crushes everything. It permeates every aspects of your life, gets through every nook and cranny, like water from a burst pipe. If I can get that -- money and wipe out my debts, I could travel back to those places again.

19th July 2012

My beloved Florence gets angry at me and says all I care about is "pussy". I am a gynaecologist, I reply furiously. The female sexual organs are my area of study. I am doing important work, why can't you see that! You surely do not think I get any pleasure out of seeing all these women's pussies, day after day after day? My work obsesses me. It is my mission to leave a body of work behind me that historians of the future will look back on and wonder at and find invaluable. No great geniuses are celebrated in their lifetimes. This is our fate. We must accept it without complaint, yet it is hard.

18th July 2012

Perhaps the opening of the Berlin Central Station marks the moment the old Golden Age of travelling ended for me? There are many dates that could mark that point. 

I am mining the culture of my world, my time. I concentrate my mining particularly on these places, but like a black hole a lot of other things get inexorably drawn into this.

“What does a man want? Love or lust? Answer: both! Tannhäuser has feasted on lust in the realm of Venus. But his excesses are anything but compatible with the strait-laced morality of the society in which he competes in song for Elisabeth's love. That precipitates an uproar…Tannhäuser: artist, outcast – the destiny of an outsider set against the intoxicating power of music at its highest erotic level. A Wagnerian banquet.”

"After reunification, despite the outcry from nearby Kurfürstendamm retailers and local politicians, the station dramatically lost its importance following the launching of the new Berlin Hauptbahnhof on 28 May 2006, with long-distance services now passing through the station without stopping."

17th July 2012

The motive for my travelling is clear--to meet my own Alicia Loren, or Milena Velba, or Laura Orsolya or Nadine Jansen. The massive-breasted floozies are the glory of Europe. 

I forgot the pleasure of being by the sea, after my stay in Malmo by the harbour. I need to explore that as well, when I get the money for a real Grand Tour again. How thrilling it will be when I get my Thomas Cook rail timetables out and plan my next Grand Tour to Europe! Still the thought of drawing into Brussels on Eurostar feels thrilling, despite so many times saying I will never go back to Brussels again, and absolutely meaning it. Still the thought of drawing into Munich Hauptbahnhof on the ICE from Brussels feels thrilling, despite saying never again. The thought of coming out of my Inter City Hotel when darkness falls and the snow starts to come down to cross the road to Schillerstrasse still thrills me, despite knowing nothing will happen there. How the thought of drawing into Wien Westbahnhof and crossing the road to the Dorint thrills me, despite knowing the Vienna nightlife is so absolutely dead and lifeless. Funnily enough, the thrill of arriving in Berlin currently does not excite me so much. I think because Berlin Zoo has been killed in favour of the visually spectacular Central Railway Station which just feels in the middle of nowhere. But Berlin is the only place where there is any real thing for me to do. 

How I crave to travel again. It is like a physical ache. A yearning.

So much has changed. Not only has Berlin Zoo been replaced as arrival point from Western Europe by the new Central BHf, I hear even Wien Westbahnhof is to be bypassed for a new Hauptbahnhof. Berlin Tegel Airport has been replaced by a brand new Brandenburg Airport. I want to start my journeys all over again, with a clean slate, with £0 on my cards instead of £21,000.  

I can spend hours researching places to go in Vienna, Munich, Brussels, Berlin. Even now perhaps I have still barely scratched the surface of what I can be doing. Hard to believe it was only last year I discovered ABC Cinema and Cine Paris in Brussels! I have not known of the nexus of Martin Luther Strasse all these years of going to Berlin! My blinkeredness is actually a source of bewilderment to me. Railway stations mean as much to me as cathedrals, opera houses, bourses, justice palaces. All have erotic connotations. Railway stations enable to me to get into cities for my pursuit of erotic pleaseure, so they themselves become erotic to me.

16th July 2012

I am so tempted to try one of these Chinese places. The black-haired Chinese girls standing in the doorways always look so beautiful. It takes me back to my twenties searching the Charing Cross Road for Fu Manchu books, which I always found unaccountably erotic. The "Yellow Peril" I regarded as metaphor for pornography and prostitution. Unfortunately my financial position is too parlous at the moment.

MONDAY

The thought of leaving my Inter City hotel in Munich as darkness falls, fuelled with beer from my minibar watching Viva and vodka from bar downstairs, and heading out into the night to round the corner of Schillerstrasse is a thrilling one. Still. More of a thrilling thought than anything in Berlin or Vienna or Brussels, despite NOTHING happening in Munich. Maybe that is why. The good old fashioned joy of dancing. In my first few visits back in 2003 I had several near sex experiences, handjobs, but in the last couple of visits there did not seem the remotest prospect of anything that exciting. Still it is a good place to stop off on the way to Vienna, or to drop back into Nuremberg, and re-experience that old thrill of coming out of my Inter City hotel at night to head to Atlantic City. This is what I travel for. This is what I live for. 

15th July 2012

Everything I do is motivated by sensuality and eroticism. All that matters is masturbating, and Priapism. All that matters is persistent erection of my penis and pleasuring of it. This job will give me less money to do that, but more time. Every day I just think about pleasuring my penis. All that matters is finding some massive-breasted whores. Oh Jesus I am ready for Berlin.

Headline: Heavy, thundery downpours developing.

8th July 2012

I believe -- is the most amazing human being to have ever walked this planet. My love for her is so deep and total. This does not mean however that I don't love the freedom to go drinking, to go ogling other girls in Tingel-Tangels and go-go bars, to go whoring. To me none of this is incompatible with loving her so deeply, and believing she is the most amazing human being to ever walk this planet. There are so many pleasurable things in life and I do not think we should deny them to ourselves. 

Jungle drums. Calling me to  Berlin, and Brussels, and Vienna, and  Munich. It was raining all night again, beating down on the Dalston canopy. This is like monsoon season! I have never known anything like it. Pornography and prostitution, the sleazy illicit thrills, are the only way to cope with despair. In fact, they are only enjoyable and at their most deeply pleasurable when in despair. Despair is such a vital part of pleasure. It is like the match that lights the flame.

A tentative rapprochement with -- that means so much. I crave her gentleness, her lovingness. Just to be able to hug and kiss her before I go to work in the morning makes the whole day bearable. 

Ilsa! Ilsa! Ilsa! How I crave news of this Ilsa money, long rumoured but never confirmed. Will it ever come? Or was it never going to come? It would save everything, it would save my lovely home, perhaps save me and --, and enable me to finally travel again.

Oh how I crave popping back to Munich! Reading about my 2005 visits to see Patricia, Irina, Susi again, and what a warm and erotic and cloying atmosphere of familiarity and longing it seemed then, makes me crave to recreate that with the girls from my most recent visit, Claudia, Angel, Maria. Oh to eat in Rechtaler Hof again! Have a lovely cold Spaten beer! I am so hungry now. Where where where is this Ilsa money?

This Saturday I did nothing, no longer wanting to waste a single penny looking in vain for jollies in London, I just went to the Empire to see Prometheus, a mess of a film where so many bits did not seem to make sense or fit together, or feel at any time believable,  compared with the absolute genius of Alien which seemed so horribly real and believable. Met -- from work, not entirely welcome, and came home with her.

Watching the Tour de France--the greatest televisual treat of the year--weaving in and out of the magnificent scenery of Belgium, France, and Switzerland makes me yearn to go on a real Grand Tour of Europe again. But without that Ilsa money I can never leave England again. That is how bad my financial situation is now. If that Ilsa money came in, however, with one bound I could be free. Like Fantomas.

Saturday 28th January 2012

A Friday night of absolute madness. I think Sports Bar will become my new regular haunt after 9. I had private dances with black-haired Romanian Lisa (the one who always ignores me), now blonde-haired Alice, and another big tit Romanian Christina who I did not like. Both Lisa & Alice sat on my face and slapped my face with their tits. A great atmosphere on a Friday night. I then got a £15 taxi from Monument to Piccadilly Circus and went back to see --. It closed at 1 so I had a last minute private dance with her and she was kissing me so wet and open mouthed on the mouth, so hot, she wants it too. I asked if we could go for a drink but she said "no, not tonight, I have to go straight home as there is a problem with my water at home". But if I come Saturday for sure we can do something after work. for her to kiss me like that so passionately must mean she wants to -- me. We should just get a hotel room in Charing Cross and spend a night together. The other girl in the booth was just staring at us smiling.

Friday 27th January 2012

One learns that the black boa constrictor around Sunde's neck does not threaten the coils of sin wrapping around you and slowly squeezing the life out of you if you become involved with her, but the coils of marriage, family, mortgage and respectable stifling bourgeois life that all these fallen women secretly aspire to! That is the dangers their temptations lure you into! Not sin but the complete absence of it. Not depravity and smut, but respectability and responsibleness! Beware the wicked woman! She is just as respectable as the rest of them underneath that florid and lurid make up, the fans and feather boas, the black stockings and suspender belts! One goes to them to escape reality, but they just want to suck you back into it!