2015

20th January 2015

How easy it is to take for granted: I am no longer sad anymore. All my life I felt so sad until I moved in with my wife. I felt trapped, scared in physical danger. but never again sad.

*****What did my wife do for me? She banished sadness from my life. Like the cold, permanent sadness gets into your bones, into your marrow, into your soul. A little bit of love will not remove it; it has to be constant, intense love that does not give up and is not deterred and that my wife gave me. I may at times have felt frustrated, shackled, in physical danger, but I never again felt sad. And even now we do not live together anymore I never feel sad; indeed I feel happier now than I did when we were together. Now I love her without resentment. I love her without somehow subconsciously feeling shackled and prevented from "living! living the glorious life that is in me". I love her because she removed the sadness from my life and I shall always worship her for that, whether from near or far. 

Sadness was like a permafrost in my life that prevented anything from growing. When she came into my life with her amazing love and amazing beauty, she thawed the permafrost, and enabled shoots to start to grow. Only when we split up though did I feel I was finally able to bloom and blossom. And in that blooming and blossoming I just love her even more, as I know I could not have done it without her loving me, and then without her letting me go. You have to let things go to let them grow.

11th November 2015

Every time I go to Europe I think THIS TIME I am going to fuck a girl every day, I am going to fuck three girls in a row in 5th Avenue or Manhattan one after the other. But I never do. I hang back and prevaricate, and then they disappear with someone else and I never see them come back, or I get too drunk to move, and stumble home without doing anything. Will I ever do that wild rampant thing of fucking so many? Yes I really want to do this! Oh but then all the girls I fancied in Brussels disappeared! 

14th October 2015

Actually an amazing trip, though I did not make the most of the opportunities, but I think mostly that IS because of the lingering ---. I would have been more rampant without that preying on my mind all the time. In time though this will come to seem an amazing voyage, of discoveries; the huge voluptuous Dominican Republic Lucy, the black Brazilian girl from before, Inna as always those eye contacts and looking away; wanted to fuck all three of them. In WSK the amazing discovery of sexy black-haired Jackie, and glad to say I fucked her almost straight away. In Manhattan amazing stunning new blonde Adelina, as well as Melissa and Andra from before; l wanted to fuck all three of them. Now this just makes me want to go back as soon as possible to do what I did not do this time. Really an amazing trip, when usually I never meet anyone to turn me on at all. Oh and forgetting to mention the black ponytail Paola in the Brussels street. So much encouraging arousal, and I never even got to Rue d’Aerschot! And non-stop fantastic films in WSK and Fortuna Kino both Friday and Saturday, constant fantastic high quality masturbation. Fantastic videokabins in Munich Sexyland, and even Burggasse Peep was not bad. And a music channel back on the Dorint TV! A really good trip actually.

4th October 2015

The connection between alcohol & sex. Almost a religious ritual. It's what is most spiritual in my life, going out for sex. And I only really do feel comfortable going out for sex. Same way I only go out for drinking. I never feel so happy drinking at home or having sex at home. 

30th September 2015

That last Tuesday night in Brussels before my early Eurostar home--is there any way I can avoid staying in a hotel that night? Realistically no! The melancholy moment. Sex, alcohol and gambling. On my first few visits to Europe, my grand tours, it meant something to get to Venice, or to get to Neuschwanstein, or to go to The Third Man sites, pilgrimages, but now I just go for the sex, alcohol and gambling (I don’t gamble actually, but I see it as spending a lot of money and seeing if you are going to have  good time tonight or not, that is the gamble). True last year I found it incredibly moving to visit for the first time the Night Porter hotel building and the cafe opposite, and then to visit the site, knocked down and wiped out, of Milena's apartment in Bad Timing. So I do still make some pilgrimages it seems. I wonder what ones are left that would move me like that? 

20th September 2015

Oh I cannot wait to spend another holiday devoted to the penis. Whether 2 nights in Brussels or my 7 night trip to Brussels, Munich & Vienna. That is what they are though, devoted to the penis. From the moment I arrive I get my laptop out and start watching porn to get in the mood, before starting to drink and heading out to see naked women, strippers, whores or in a porn film.

Cannot wait to be back in Cine Paris again, and 5th again, and Gare du Nord videokabins again, and Le Coin.***More than anything I just like to lie naked with a girl, chatting softly with her, stroking each other's bodies, only at end finishing with sex; I'm not into all this exhausting athletic multi-positional frenzy you others go in for. Sounds like an Army assault course. Just to find a beautiful curvy sympatico girl and lie there naked in each other’s arms for a little while till I feel ready for the culmination. Anyone else prefer these gentler pleasures? Am I weird?

I’m like the last of the Medicis. I knew there would be no other after me, so I just gave up; I am just going to stay here and live the life I want to lead.

Live wildly. Live like money is no object. Riches will come later, surely. I don’t want to sit at home doing nothing for three days. I will get so depressed. Better to travel! Burn like a firefly. 0210. Living wildly is all very well, but I don’t know if my body will be up to it.

7th September 2015

I am trying to do something quite new in my writing. I record my life almost every minute of the day. They say people think about sex every minute or whatever, I am showing that in my writing. What that actually means. And I am showing someone going from bar, to a strip club, to a porn cinema, to a videokabin, to a night bar, to a prostitute. All the things together, one to the other, with the goal of constant stimulation. I am not sure anyone else writes about this or records it. People write on the sex cinema forums, and other people write on the stripper forums, and other people write on the prostitute forums: I don't know if anybody writes about all these things together. I don’t know if other people exist who do this, going from one to the other. Anyway I want to leave behind a record of this way of life. For a time when these places don’t exist--already in London NO porn cinemas exist. We have already achieved that state. Effectively in Soho there is now just ONE strip club left. There are only about 10 places where prostitutes work from. In Brussels in the last 5 years they have lost California videokabins and peep show,  ABC Cinema. etc.

Bete de Nuit, for example, just writes about prostitutes--does he not also enjoy strippers and porn films and kabins? I write about everything in totality, one to the other.

1st September 2015

A most bizarre and heavy long dream about 18th century adventurers sailing across southern seas to land where they believed the second incarnation of Jesus was living, there they meet a man coming out to meet them and they walk across to meet him, a Charles Cogan Lewis. A bearded, brown-suited, top-hatted Victorian gentleman who apparently was Jesus. I cannot remember any more but it was a portentous and ominous dream. I felt the power of their quest, and their belief that this was Jesus, and the momentous moment of their meeting. I wake exhausted, shattered, aching all over, covered in my own sperm.

7th July 2015

It seems to me most of the greatest art is about sex, most of the greatest philosophy is about sex, most of the greatest classical music is about sex. People think oh, art, philosophy, classical music, is so old, dry and dusty, and boring; but when you realise most of painting, philosophy and classical music is about sex, then it opens up to you like a flower, and you can see how rich and fascinating it is. And then I sit there in a classical music concert lusting after the violinist on stage with a swelling in my trousers, I walk around art museums almost always with an erection. Eros is all around us.

13th June 2015

One must not comment on the beauty of a violinist or pianist? Her physical attractiveness? Her curvaceousness? So when one checks in one's hat & coat in the cloakroom, one must check in one's natural sexual desires as well? We must go in to a concert hall sexless, emasculated, castrate? One must sit there very po faced, absorbing the experience with one's ears only, no other senses allowed? It is objectifying her to talk of her extreme physical desirability? But tell me, before going on stage she puts on her beautiful make up, does her hair beautifully, puts on the most beautiful & alluring dress she can find, all to make herself look as attractive as possible; but then by some bizarre moral omerta we are not then allowed to say "bloody hell, she is attractive!" Is that really being rude to her? Offensive? All human beings size each other up on the tube, the bus, at the airport anyway. Of course it is the same in a concert hall, observing one's fellow audience members, and the people on stage.

Lulu James Sweetest Thing  

29th April 2015

I do feel drawn to Brussels, just lazy days drinking and eating, and reading my Guardian this is the big attraction. Start the day in Ibis and Orient, then after brief visits to Cine Paris and 5th Avenue END my day in the Dome. Any energy then pop up to Gare du Nord before back to Midi and chicken & chips then bed. Can I really wait until June?
Vienna was dull, and YET! How fantastic it was (in January) sitting behind that man who had the girl fucking him on his lap--just no sign of such girls in WSK this time. How fantastic was that incredible TWO ORGASM handjob with Manuela in Burggasse Peep. How sexy it was seeing Melissa walking around Manhattan topless, those lovely big jubblies. Just did not feel ANY of that excitement this time; maybe still too cold. Need to go in hot summer when hormones raging; but the torpor of the Dorint bar is not good, and the complete LACK of people watching. Anyway my finances need to improve A LOT before I can go as far as Vienna again. But when will my finances improve? 

28th April 2015

People say porn is bad and strip clubs are bad, because it objectifies women, reduces them to objects; but I would look at it another way: I revere women, I put them on a pedestal and look up to them like goddesses. This is a kind of objectification, but a kind of worshipful objectification, not a bad objectification.

I think films were better in the 1970s, I think women looked sexier in the 1970s.

11th April 2015

- - asked me for an email interview about my melting ice theory so he will send me some questions tomorrow. It is for a private project he says, but he could also pitch it to Vice if I was willing for that extra exposure.

Just noticed the seven year eras in my life, 1992 first went to Sunset Strip and saw a naked woman for first time and started my lifetime of strip clubs, porn cinemas and whores, 1999 went to Europe for first time and began a lifetime of travelling to Vienna, Berlin, Munich and Brussels, 2006 fell in love with --, 2013 split from -- and resumed a new golden age of travelling. Incredible paradigm shifts all seven years apart. Roll on 2020!

Christ just FOUR DAYS till I head off to Brussels and Vienna!

9th April 2015

Just seven days till I head to Eurostar and Vienna! Finally called Eurostar and for no extra cost I am now on the last Eurostar back on Tuesday night, 1952.  OK so I leave Vienna 630 Tuesday morning and arrive in Munich 1025.  I then leave Munich 1051 (26 minutes grace) and arrive Frankfurt 1404. I leave Frankfurt 1429 (25 minutes grace) and arrive Brussels 1735, so that is 2 hours 17 minutes before my Eurostar leaves. Surely I can survive even a missed connection en route from Vienna?***2250 “Mourinho is a courteous and cultured man. He is a great admirer of the writing of Fernando Pessoa, Portugal’s most beloved poet. (There is a line from Pessoa’s Book of Disquiet that might have been written for him: ‘I’ve always rejected being understood. To be understood is to prostitute oneself. I prefer to be taken seriously for what I’m not, remaining humanly unknown, with naturalness and all due respect.’)”

4th April 2015

I always described the rooms above Mon Cheri and Hanky Panky (fka Stutti Frutti) in Berlin's Stuttgarter Platz as being Cameron Rennie Mackintoshian, because of their Stygian blackness and massive canopied four poster beds; lit by  nothing but a single heavily covered bedside red lamp; it was in one of these rooms that I lost my Berlin virginity one drunken night to Yulia, and then returned at least a couple more times with Berlin blonde Riccarda. I now discover it was THIS picture by James Pryde that I was thinking of all the time, and it was nothing to do with Mackintosh at all (a wonderful Freudian typing error made me initially write James Prude).

I am scathing and bitter about how awful the strip clubs and strip pubs of London now are, but I suppose for someone coming from western Europe it is a real thrill to see so much striptease where the girls take everything off;  in the few strip clubs I have found in Brussels, Munich, Vienna and Berlin the knickers never come off, at best will be pulled down just below bottom cheeks for a split second before the music stops and they quickly pull them back and step off stage. It is one of the specialities of London that we still have full nudity striptease.  Strange that London and England of all places should be more liberal in this regard! 

You know what, I wonder if I can STILL raid my old black  & red 1990s notebooks for story ideas: "He shops in M&S like he's robbing graves". "I should hardly think I'm likely to be shocked by anything you've go---Oh my goodness!" "Liszt asked his orchestra for more pink". "I bet he did". "If you sit too long on the toilet your  bowels will fall out." THIS can be the basis of my Dorian Gray novel. My Orchid.

When I behave shamefully like Thursday night, I wake up feeling ruined, and not wanting to open my eyes, but when I do I want to do great work, intellectual things, I want to go back to classical music & ferns & my books, and I have the most amazing 48 hours or so of inspired creative work, all to run away from the shame of the drunkenness and hedonism of the night before. So doing shameful things has always been good for me; getting that mucky stuff out of your system; and it also gives me deliciously naughty dreams as well. 

31st March 2015 Serpent's Egg Day

0317 How nice it is to see your cock with even a little bit of swelling. Just a hint of fatness and heaviness. I had massive vertical erection yesterday morning in bed before going to sleep, so there is nothing wrong with the mechanics. If I went to Olivia sober (or just a little drunk)  I will be fine, as I was two weeks ago. She was impressed by it, and so was I!
It is already time I reissued my books, but this time annotated. I am completely fascinated by myself; completely in thrall to myself.

30th March 2015

Marriage was like an illness which I have recovered from, but which can always break out again if you are not careful.
I am not a normal cat, I am an I Ams cat.
I feel I am the inheritor of this situation, rather than the progenitor of it.
****Really looking forward to Vienna now, even Berlin Plaza. But Christ my Capital is maxed out, and my Nationwide is maxed out. Balance transfer into Visa? There is no light at the end of the tunnel, it is just going to get worse. £17,000 will become £18,000 will become £19,000. It is never going to stop. My lifestyle is expensive. Hell yeah but live it. The fucking memories, just last year alone, hottest sex ever with Fortuna Kino blonde, with WSK Amanda, wild with passion for Brazilian Julia in 5th Avenue then Andrea in 5th Avenue. Amazing hand job from Manuela in Burggasse Peep. Got to go back to Angelique again.

29th March 2015

I think I do feel happier in Vienna than in any other city. Just to get on a tram and ride around on the tram makes me happy. Then end the day with a gorgeous rostbraten in the Café West End. I could ride around Munich on a tram but that would not make me happy the way Vienna does. In Berlin there is just the buses (west side anyway). No, right now Vienna really makes me happy and relaxed.
My sex life is: I drink till I am incapable of sex then go to a prostitute.
Sometimes I dread going to Vienna again for all that wasted money, other times I think yes Vienna is my favourite city and I feel so happy just drinking there, eating there, riding around on trams.
London so boring. Nowhere to go. Watch girls in Molly Moggs perhaps that is it. Olivia in Soho Friday night a disaster but maybe a disaster that saves me money. Sports Bar I could return to and start having one private dance a week.
I am an archivist of my own life. I am a researcher and archaeologist into my own life. An Indiana Jones of the mind. I release my records bit by bit on my websites, and lodge my completed books on Amazon; not expecting sales but so there is a permanent record for posterity. One day I want to build a library dedicated to my own life and my writing, like a great Tower of Babel, the rival of the British Library at least. There all my books that I scribbled all my notes in as I go travelling will be kept, and researchers can access them with protective gloves on, like they do old copies of Shakespeare and Goethe and such like.

26th March 2015

Yes, travelling gives me massive debts, but it also gives me massive rich memories and experiences. How happy I feel in Vienna and Berlin and Brussels. Well, most of the time I feel morose and depressed, but I luxuriate in my moroseness and depression there, and wallow in it till it becomes pleasurable. In London it’s just depressing. I resolve to visit one site of literary or historical importance in London every week. Can I then unlock the fly from the amber in London? Release the woolly mammoth from the ice in London? Bring London back to life? 

Monday 9th February 2015

Suddenly I am starting to think about Berlin, Just to be there. In the Berlin of the 1920s Blue Angel Marlene Dietrich cabaret, jazz, cocaine, prostitutes. Einstein, Schopenhauer, Schoenberg, Berg. Birds tweeting when I work up this morning, the clear blue skies have a hint of warmth in them, now I am thinking March in Berlin. My lovely lovely Berln Plaza bar, those Pilsners, and getting there on a lovely ICE train, and leaving on a lovely ICE train to enjoy a last couple of days in Brussels.

Saturday 24th January 2015

Travelling is like an illness with me. It is an addiction. But in particular an addiction to Munich, Vienna, Berlin and Brussels. The thought of going anywhere else does not interest me at all. I yearn to be back in my old haunts, my old bars, restaurants, cinemas, Tingel-Tangels, art galleries. It is the familiarity, the home away from home, the memories, the blood on the tracks.

Friday 23rd January 2015

If I don’t travel anymore I don’t know what else is left. I might as well just lay down and ready myself for my coffin. And yet every time I go away my debt just mounts up more and more, but I feel compelled to keep travelling, and keep getting deeper and deeper into debt and this debt really destroys all the excitement of my travel as soon as I set off from my front door, like a heavy sack on my shoulders which gets heavier and heavier as the rain falls on it. This debt is a dead weight robbing all my travels of the excitement and eroticism that I once knew.

The alternative is to stay in London for the rest of my life and never do anything.

When I am with someone I yearn to be free. When free I miss their love so much. When in London I yearn to travel. When I travel to yearn to be back home. As soon as I get home I yearn to rush back to the place I just came from. This is the pendulum of my life. I am a pendulum. I always want the opposite of what I have. Always dissatisfied. Perhaps everyone is like this, dissatisfaction is the only thing that gives any movement to our life.

I actually am developing relationships, like I had with Susi, Viktoriya, Patricia in Munich, Riccarda & Iga in Berlin, now with Andrea and the Fifth girls in Brussels, and Amanda in Vienna.

The only writing I like is really stream of consciousness, sitting in a bar with a beer in one hand, my pen in the other, and it is writing that I do not have to edit, I do not need to change a word. I want to publish it exactly as it came out of my pen. An exact record of how I was feeling at that precise moment. I don't care if I have got my facts wrong, it was what I thought was true at that moment, so it is MY truth. 

Thursday 22nd January 2015

I had a dream the other night, a very sexy dream, and I asked a woman a question and she started singing You Give A little Love. I asked her “Why Vienna?”, and she started singing that.

I absolutely link money with Eros. Money means I can travel to Europe, and sleep with beautiful busty Esmeraldas. Even a single pound coin buys me a naked strip from a girl in London. This is why I follow the financial pages so avidly. This is why I visit the Bourses in every city I visit and worship at them as Temples of Eros.

Of course I will come to a bad end; I expect nothing else. If I am on my own. Being with my wife kept me on the straight and narrow. Very narrow.