ALWAYS THE RESPONSE TO ATTACKS IS TO DO MORE! (26th April 2006)

ALWAYS THE RESPONSE TO ATTACKS IS TO DO MORE! FLAUNT IT IN THEIR FACES MORE & MORE! WIND THEM UP MORE & MORE! PROCLAIM “STILL GETTING AWAY WITH IT!”! Aultre ne veulx estre (No desire to be otherwise) “I know very well that I would be better off living normally, better off keeping to the straight and narrow, not to be (at the age of 30 years) as futile as Cherubino di amore for Beaumarchais (…). I know that I do not have enough respect for the law, that I am as scatterbrained as a mayfly, and as unworried as a monk, I know that I do not contribute to the good of the State but that which you do not suspect and that which will cause all serious people to faint, right up until the fifth male generation, is that I am happy and almost proud of being like this and not otherwise…. I hope that this surpasses the boundaries of decent insanity…” Letter from Félicien Rops to Emile Leclerq, 1863**************Oh I get home feeling so down & depressed. I don’t know what to do. I either go repeatedly to Flying Scotsman and Sunset Strip & derange my senses & watch strippers all night, or I stay put in the flat & let another night go by inside the four walls. What a choice. Sometimes I will force myself to Phaedra or As You Desire Me or The Gothic Imagination, but I derive no real enjoyment from it–it seems so much less real than the sex dancers & the drink. I HAVE to do the writing to earn the drunkenness. I am cut off from everybody, & that’s how I like to be, & that’s how I want to be. S—– told you she liked you. H— told you she liked you. —– told you she liked you. I AM WRITING A BOOK ABOUT SEX DANCERS. ABOUT ANITA BERBER & JOSEPHINE BAKER. I USE THEM AS MY DRUGS. Poor bus stop girl. She doesn’t realise what a resolutely silent person I am. Polish D—-, G—-, M—–, were all so warm to me until they realised I am not going to talk to them, and then they become surly, & stony faced, & contemptuous. I AM DEPRAVED. LIKE SALVADOR DALI. LIKE OSCAR WILDE FEASTING WITH PANTHERS. LIKE WITTGENSTEIN CREEPING INTO THE PRATER AT NIGHT IN SEARCH OF ROUGH TRADE. LIKE HART CRANE CRUISING THE DANGEROUS & VIOLENT MANHATTAN, BROOKLYN & HOBOKEN WATERFRONTS AT NIGHT. What do I keep going to the place for to gaze at the girls dancing? I like to lose myself in it, enter another world.***************How I stir people up, while I remain the sweet, innocent stillpoint at the centre of it all. What I am doing at the Flying Scotsman is just another drop in my experiment. It is where I am focusing my experiment at the moment. It is a lens. I must bring my scientific books back here to write my book on detachment. How G— used to like me, how M—– used to like me, how Ursula used to like me, how Shreeti used to like me, how Aureline used to like me, how pig-tailed Calcutta barmaid used to like me, "Oh you're so sweet, do you know that!" But I am in a world of my own, unreachable, impenetrable. AS UNWORRIED AS A MONK. I LOVE IT IF PEOPLE ARE BECOMING FASCINATED BY ME. I LOVE IT IF PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK. I PROVOKE THEM MORE & MORE.