Yes I miss those nights at Atlantic City and Sexyland and Golden Gate & Mon Cheri & Monte Carlo & Ciro & Pour Platin and Empire and the Bell and Sunset Strip & Sunset Cinema but you cannot keep doing it all the time [25th Sept 2006]

Yes I miss those nights at Atlantic City and Sexyland and Golden Gate & Mon Cheri & Monte Carlo & Ciro & Pour Platin and Empire and the Bell and Sunset Strip & Sunset Cinema, but you cannot keep doing it all the time. You cannot do it every week, 52 weeks a year. Yes I am missing out on all those experiences and all those heady nights and all those new people like Janet or Martini that might be arriving--but it is great to have some months when you do nothing, and then have some months when you go back to it. You have to deny yourself some things for a while, in order to enjoy them again. The longer I leave it the more I will appreciate it when I go back to my Pope life, my Francis Bacon life, my George Grosz life. The Broken World. The Shining Road. Once again I pore over the weather forecasts. For signs, auguries, of when the right time will be to resume my former sinful profligate life. I divine things from the weather. My sexuality is linked to the weather as much as it is linked to finance and to justice and to cathedrals. I will indulge my sexuality when the weather indicators are right, and the financial indicators are right, and the scales of justice feel right, and when in the cathedral it feels right. 

I love the wicked women. I have met some women I could trust in that broken world, Lela, for example, Ana Maria, Pamela. Diana in Berlin or Riccarda. Probably not Iga, as much as I love her! You can genuinely touch someone in that world and be touched by them, I think. I always go into that world looking for love, as I think they are the only women I could ever love. The clink of gold in the glass. The Tallulahs are probably no more cynical than the Esmeraldas. They are only nice to you as long as you are filling their glass with gold. Still, I think you can meet some exceptions, when something genuine passes between you, with Susi, with Janet, with --. And if I am wrong, then it does not matter. Fleetingly, it felt nice to real there was something real between us, if only in the blink of an eye. It is those moments that you keep go out looking for. That is what you keep gambling for, throwing so much money down on the roulette table for the very occasional moment when you get back more than you put in. That is what you keep trawling the broken world for, those fleeting moments when eye meets eye and some spark of electricity passes between you, and that current brings you back to life, for a couple of hours, or for one night, at least. That is what the poems of Hart Crane speak to me of: "The flesh assaults outright for bolts that linger". How you put on your beer goggles, so everything looks magical, everyone looks beautiful and desirable, and everyone seems to find you beautiful and desirable in return. If it is all commerce, simply, then no matter. There are just those brief moments when it seems so real, comes so close to being real, that it is as good as real. 

In every city there is Helen of Troy locked up somewhere in a room. She lives on like Orlando, like Emilia Makropolus. You go out every night searching for her, as David Tennant's Casanova always searches for Laura Fraser. "The sight of a whore is profoundly thrilling to a man". As a scopophiliac, sight is everything to me, and I lose myself in that world. For two months I have had to abstain completely and withdraw from it, only so that I might return refreshed and enjoy it anew. "There is only one woman in the world for me, you know that". "Who is she? Tell me!""No. She is cruel to me." "Maybe you were cruel to her." "Ah, that's what a bleeding heart does to a man. It drips and leaks into his soul, and before long floods his soul, and saturates him, and all his thoughts and all his words and all his deeds become bloody." "What could a woman do to help such a man?" "Well, if you would just give me your hand for a moment..." "No! You're an animal!" "If you would just step into this dark corner with me for a moment..." "No! Never again! No more dark corners with you!"

How I walked away from Irina without seizing my moment. How I walked away from -- without seizing my moment. How I walked away from Susi without seizing my moment. Maybe Riccarda, too. Pamela?

I live in the Ernest Dowson world. Don’t stick your head above the parapet unless you want to get shot at. When I hear Maneater I want to see -- dancing to it. I am obsessed with her.

"As Nietzsche put it, while recovering from his intoxication with Wagner: 'What can be done well today, what can be masterly, is only what is small.'"

What a merry chase I lead people! [23rd Sept 2006]

What a merry chase I lead people! I exult in it now. How I torment them and torture them with what I get away with and STILL get away with. I used to feel chased and hunted and hounded. Now I delight in leading them on a chase after me. See if you can keep up!

Everybody was waiting for me when I first went to Europe. They already knew me and they already knew I was on my way, and they already knew the date and time of my arrival. I feel like Bourne. They know who I am and I don't. What was it I did? Who was I? Why was everyone trying to kill me? When I went to the top of the St Marks Belltower in Venice, the American kids knew me. 

Like you can tell the age of a tree by counting its rings, I can measure my life out in the number of Salomes I have seen at the opera. Just listening to songs on Berlin Energy reminds me of being in Berlin. I only asked -- and Pamela to come home with me because since then all I have done is get drunk and spend all my time in the Bell and Sunset Strip then go home and pass out.

Yes I am amused to feel like Bourne. But I also feel like Joe Orton--still getting away with it! Like Frank Wedekind, flaunting it in their faces! Pour épater le bourgeoisie. To do whatever it is I shouldn't do. I LIVE FOR THE WILD NIETZSCHEAN DIONYSIAN PLEASURE. I LIVE FOR STIRRING PEOPLE UP. I LIVE FOR DOING THINGS I SHOULDN'T. I LIVE FOR DOING DANGEROUS THINGS WHICH WILL PUT ME ON THE VERGE OF SELF-DESTRUCTION. I LIVE FOR THE SLEAZY THRILL.

Royksopp What Else Is There? Yes I owe a massive £6000. Yes my monthly interest is a massive £80. But think of those nights in Munich Atlantic City watching Susi, Irina, Patricia, Bella Rosa, Viktoriya, or in Femina with Emily. Going to Nuremberg and meeting Martina in the Pils Bar. Those nights in Berlin with Yulia, Riccarda, Iga, Diana or Arrica. Would I take any of it back? No!

I AM DEBAUCHED. Debauchery is the road to Taoist contentment. The pleasures are great. The rewards are great. 

The rewards for that £6,000 have been great.

Oh God I love to get drunk and lose it! And I always will. Whether in London or Berlin or Munich or Vienna or Brussels. I will always want to get drunk and lose it. That is the point of life. Live for the moment. Live every moment like its the last.

Why do I keep going back to the same places? For me, it is an attempt at time travel. I am trying to go back to the past & this time put right what I did wrong. I have left so much blood on the tracks, and I want to put it all right this time, with Susi, with Irina, with Viktoriya, and do the right thing  this time. Please let me have that chance. So of course all my visits become increasingly forlorn.

What a lovely 30? 45? minutes I had with Harrietta in Angelique in Vienna.

I am quietly obsessed with recording my own life.

Für Elise is nostalgia for all the beautiful Esmeraldas you have fallen in love with & who you have had to leave behind.

What the hell happened to Pink? What a loss. What a brief golden age. How can I not love all the Tallulahs and Esmeraldas I have met? What magical, never to be forgotten high, special moments they have given me.

Oh what a return it will be when it happens. October? November? How wonderful that memory is of seeing Michela dancing to Global DJs is, even though at the time it seemed so failed a visit. What happy memories those strip clubs around Europe (Munich) have given me. That is why I cannot regret the £6,000.

It's possible I could go to Berlin for one night only to see Dalayman in Salome isn’t it? Suddenly a visit to Munich (or Vienna) in December becomes possible. But I said Munich never again after January!??? It is all just memories now. That incredible Jay Z Threat night. Will life ever get any higher than that?

If I have learnt one thing in life it is that you have to take your chances--Susie, --, Irina, all of them. Clarissa. Martina. 

When you hear Afghan Whigs See About Me, how can you not want to go back to the strip clubs? Yes, but it is about going back when they are at their best---in winter, and on Saturdays, and in Berlin or Munich. The Whigs seem to exist in that same drunken world as the Libertines, and Faith Healers, and me.

When the Esmeraldas and Tallulahs I have met in my life have been so extraordinary and stimulating and life enhancing, how can I give them up? (6th August 2006)

When the Esmeraldas and Tallulahs I have met in my life have been so extraordinary and stimulating and life enhancing, how can I give them up? The closest I have come to a real relationship has been with the Esmeraldas I have met in Moloch, namely Lela from Romania, Ana Maria from Spain, Lydia from Russia, and latterly Pamela from Sweden. 

I can only fall in love with Esmeraldas. I do not think I am capable of loving a normal girl, a respectable girl. There is so much of me that I have to hide from them, so much of the double life that I must keep secret from them, which is never necessary with Esmeraldas, because we know everything about each other from the beginning. What a relief to be able to talk so openly and honestly with an Esmeralda, when by necessity only one word out of every hundred I would like to say to a normal girl can be said out loud. Ninety-nine per cent of what is the most essential me must remain concealed from a normal girl, like a portrait in my attic, whereas with Esmeraldas I can be 100% open. That is why I love Esmeraldas so much. As much as for the sex, it is to just be able to be myself and speak freely. I have felt closer to true friendship with Esmeraldas than I ever have with a normal girl. 

In Munich, because of its strict conservatism, there basically are no Esmeraldas as such, except for very huge sums of money. The roles of Esmeralda and Tallulah have become merged, and the dancers will do a lot more than just dance, and the whores will stop short of going all the way, which is both more exciting and yet ultimately frustrating. The single greatest liberating moment of my life I regard as the time I took Patricia into one of the White Coffin séparées in Munich. At that moment a Rubicon was crossed, and I have never looked back. Two weeks later, on The Night of the Snow, I took the Romanian Emily into one of the Three Cats séparées and enjoyed the greatest sexual experience of my life, again without any actual sex taking place.

Yes I miss those nights at Atlantic City & Sexyland & Golden Gate & Mon Cheri & Monte Carlo & Ciro & Pour Platin and Empire and the Scotsman and Sunset Strip & Cinema but you cannot keep doing it all the time (25th Sept 2006)

Yes I miss those nights at Atlantic City and Sexyland and Golden Gate & Mon Cheri & Monte Carlo & Ciro & Pour Platin and Empire and the Scotsman and Sunset Strip & Cinema, but you cannot keep doing it all the time. You cannot do it every week, 52 weeks a year. Yes I am missing out on all those experiences and all those heady nights and all those new people like Janet or Martina that might be arriving—but it is great to have some months when you do nothing, and then have some months when you go back to it. You have to deny yourself some things for a while, in order to enjoy them again. The longer I leave it the more I will appreciate it when I go back to my Pope life, my Francis Bacon life, my George Grosz life. The Broken World. The Shining Road. Once again I pore over the weather forecasts. For signs, auguries, of when the right time will be to resume my former sinful profligate life. I divine things from the weather. My sexuality is linked to the weather as much as it is linked to finance and to justice and to cathedrals. I will indulge my sexuality when the weather indicators are right, and the financial indicators are right, and the scales of justice feel right, and when in the cathedral it feels right. 

I love the wicked women. I have met some women I could trust in that broken world, Lela, for example, Ana Maria, Pamela. Diana in Berlin or Riccarda. Probably not Iga, as much as I love her! You can genuinely touch someone in that world and be touched by them, I think. I always go into that world looking for love, as I think they are the only women I could ever love. The clink of gold in the glass. The Tallulahs are probably no more cynical than the Esmeraldas. They are only nice to you as long as you are filling their glass with gold. Still, I think you can meet some exceptions, when something genuine passes between you, with Susi, with Janet, with —–. And if I am wrong, then it does not matter. Fleetingly, it felt nice to feel there was something real between us, if only in the blink of an eye. It is those moments that you keep going out looking for. That is what you keep gambling for, throwing so much money down on the roulette table for the very occasional moment when you get back more than you put in. That is what you keep trawling the broken world for, those fleeting moments when eye meets eye and some spark of electricity passes between you, and that current brings you back to life, for a couple of hours, or for one night, at least. That is what the poems of Hart Crane speak to me of: “The flesh assaults outright for bolts that linger” The wine menagerie. How you put on your beer goggles, so everything looks magical, everyone looks beautiful and desirable, and everyone seems to find you beautiful and desirable in return. If it is all commerce, simply, then no matter. There are just those brief moments when it seems so real, comes so close to being real, that it is as good as real. In every city there is Helen of Troy locked up somewhere in a room. She lives on like Orlando, like Emilia Makropolos. You go out every night searching for her, as David Tennant’s Casanova always searches for Laura Fraser. “The sight of a whore is profoundly thrilling to a man”.

How I walked away from Irina without seizing my moment. How I walked away from —– without seizing my moment.How I walked away from Susi without seizing my moment. Maybe Riccarda, too. Pamela? 

 

Some beautiful new pictures of Sunset Strip on the website, what a surprise! Including two absolutely gorgeous pictures of —–. Oh you just look at those pictures and you see how attractive that world is, how easy it is to lose yourself in it, and submerge yourself in it, and let the waters close over your head, and disappear into another world. When you think of —– dancing to Promiscuous Girl. They are the best things in life. Maybe one day I will settle down with —–. Hahaha. I am abstaining from that world completely, just so I can dive back into it so completely when I am ready. Yes I owed £3,600 on October 1st last year, but I then still went ahead & went to Frankfurt for 4 days, Berlin for 5 days, Berlin for one night only, not to mention the last visit to Munich. What real nice warmth did I ever find in that world: —–, Janet, Sylvia, Martina, Amanda. Maybe Luana? I live in the Ernest Dowson world. Don’t stick your head above the parapet unless you want to get shot at.

When I hear Maneater I want to see —– dancing to it. I am obsessed with her. “As Nietzsche put it, while recovering from his intoxication with Wagner: ‘What can be done well today, what can be masterly, is only what is small.'”

What a merry chase I lead people! (23rd Sept 2006)

What a merry chase I lead people! I exult in it now. How I torment them and torture them with what I get away with and STILL get away with. I used to feel chased and hunted and hounded. Now I delight in leading them on a chase after me. See if you can keep up!

Everybody was waiting for me when I first went to Europe. They already knew me and they already knew I was on my way, and they already knew the date and time of my arrival. I feel like Bourne. They know who I am and I don’t. What was it I did? Who was I? Why was everyone trying to kill me? When I went to the top of the St Mark’s Belltower in Venice, the American kids knew me.

Another hot sunny albeit windy day. No good for the Scotsman or Sunset Strip. If I didn’t have a flat of my own, I could never have even asked —– to come home with me, or Pamela. That is why I must keep the flat at all costs. Women, music and drinking are where all my money goes. I spend every penny I have got on it. Wine, women and song. How can I possibly regret any of it? So I owe £6,000? It was all well spent! Shakira Illegal. Evanescence Call Me When You’re Sober. Infernal Ten Miles. Pink Who Knew.

Like you can tell the age of a tree by counting its rings, I can measure my life out in the number of Salomes I have seen at the opera. Just listening to songs on Berlin Energy reminds me of being in Berlin. I only asked —– and Pamela to come home with me because since then all I have done is get drunk and spend all my time in the Scotsman and Sunset Strip then go home and pass out.

Yes I am amused to feel like Bourne. But I also feel like Joe Orton—still getting away with it! Like Frank Wedekind, flaunting it in their faces! Pour épater la bourgeoisie. To do whatever it is I shouldn’t do. I LIVE FOR THE WILD NIETZSCHEAN DIONYSIAN PLEASURE. I LIVE FOR STIRRING PEOPLE UP. I LIVE FOR DOING THINGS I SHOULDN’T. I LIVE FOR DOING DANGEROUS THINGS WHICH WILL PUT ME ON THE VERGE OF SELF-DESTRUCTION. I LIVE FOR THE SLEAZY THRILL.

Royksopp What Else Is There. Yes I owe a massive £6000. Yes my monthly interest is a massive £80. But think of those nights in Munich Atlantic City watching Susi, Irina, Patricia, Bella Rosa, Viktoriya, or in Femina with Emily. Going to Nuremberg and meeting Martina in the Pils Bar. Those nights in Berlin with Yulia, Riccarda, Iga, Diana or Arrica. Would I take any of it back? No!

I AM DEBAUCHED. Debauchery is the road to Taoist contentment. The pleasures are great. The rewards are great.

The rewards for that £6,000 have been great.

Oh God I love to get drunk and lose it! And I always will. Whether in London or Berlin or Munich or Vienna or Brussels. I will always want to get drunk and lose it. That is the point of life. Live for the moment. Live every moment like it’s the last.

Why do I keep going back to the same places? For me, it is an attempt at time travel. I am trying to go back to the past & this time put right what I did wrong. I have left so much blood on the tracks, and I want to put it all right this time, with Susi, with Irina, with Viktoriya, and do the right thing this time. Please let me have that chance. So of course all my visits become increasingly forlorn.

What a lovely 30? 45? minutes I had with Harrietta in Angelique in Vienna.

I am quietly obsessed with recording my own life.

Für Elise is nostalgia for all the beautiful Esmeraldas you have fallen in love with & who you have had to leave behind.

If I have learnt one thing in life it is that you have to take your chances—Susi, —–, Irina, all of them. Clarisse. Martina.

When you hear Afghan Whigs See About Me, how can you not want to go back to the strip clubs? Yes, but it is about going back when they are at they best—in winter, and on Saturdays, and in Berlin or Munich. The Afghan Whigs seem to exist in that same drunken world as the Libertines, and Faith Healers, and me.

For the true connoisseurs of smut (5th August 2006)

For the true connoisseurs of smut. I preferred Munich before it was overrun by Ukrainians, due to the visa scandal whereby the German Embassy in Kiev were giving passports out like smarties, as stunning as many of them undoubtedly are. I preferred it when there was more of a balance, between Brazilians, Slovakians, Romanians, Russians, Ukrainians. Now it is wall to wall Ukrainians. Similarly I preferred Moloch before it became overrun by Brazilians, again as stunning as many of them are. Sunset Strip certainly used to be better when there was a balance, and much more interesting variety of girls, when it was more like a burlesque show, and the Carnival I have never ceased to mourn. Where is silver dressed Fat Bottomed Girl now? It is amazing how often when you first go to a place, the first girl you see turns out to be the most legendary and stunning you will ever see. When I first walked into Carnival there was silver dress girl up there on stage, the most voluptuous stripper I have ever seen in my life. As good as all the Carnival girls were, no one surpassed silver dress girl. How the first time I stepped downstairs into Sunset Strip, the girl came on dancing to My Name Is Tallulah, Tallulah since becoming my word for that whole world. That whole way of life. That whole addiction. An addiction, I might add, that has suddenly becoming crashingly dull to me. 

The first time I ever set foot in Stutti Frutti in Berlin the first girl I saw was the extraordinary Yulia. A month later the first time I set foot in Mon Cheri I met the stunning Riccarda, and recorded in my journal at the time that I felt like I had just fucked Marilyn Monroe. A month later the first time I set foot in the Golden Gate, I met Iga. Three of the greatest women of my life and all were met the first time I set foot in their respective establishments, all of which have been desolate wastelands whenever I return to them now. The last time I went to  Berlin I made my first visits to the Mazurka and met the extraordinary sisters Alla & Olga and I have no doubt I will never see them again, and I carried on down the road to make my first visit to Ciro and met the mindblowing Erika, again who I am sure will have disappeared from the face of the earth if I ever go back & no one will even admit to having heard of her. When the Esmeraldas and Tallulahs I have met in my life have been so extraordinary and stimulating and life enhancing, how can I give them up? 

The closest I have come to a real relationship has been with the Esmeraldas I have met in Moloch, namely Lela from Romania, Ana Maria from Spain, Olga from Russia, and latterly Pamela from Sweden. I can only fall in love with Esmeraldas. I do not think I am capable of loving a normal girl, a respectable girl. There is so much of me that I have to hide from them, so much of the double life that I must keep secret from them, which is never necessary with Esmeraldas, because we know everything about each other from the beginning. What a relief to be able to talk so openly and honestly with an Esmeralda, when by necessity only one word out of every hundred I would like to say to a normal girl can be said out loud. Ninety-nine per cent of what is the most essential me must remain concealed from a normal girl, like a portrait in my attic, whereas with Esmeraldas I can be 100% open. That is why I love Esmeraldas so much. As much as for the sex, it is to just be able to be myself and speak freely. I have felt closer to true friendship with Esmeraldas than I ever have with a normal girl. 

The amazing hour I spent laying with the Turkish girl when I had no more money but she just let me lay there, as she lay in my arms, as she talked to me about her life as I stroked her hair, and her beautiful bottom. She told me how she loved reading, Guy de Maupassant her favourite, and how her father told her as long as you have books you are always rich. Ayeesha. I do not think I have ever had a happier hour than that one. In Munich, because of its strict conservatism, there basically are no Esmeraldas as such, accept for very huge sums of money. The roles of Esmeralda and Tallulah have become merged, and  the dancers will do a lot more than just dance, and the whores will stop short of going all the way, which is both more exciting and yet ultimately frustrating. The single greatest liberating moment of my life I regard as the time I took Patricia into one of the White Coffin separees in Munich. At that moment a Rubicon was crossed, and I have never looked back. Two weeks later, on The Night of the Snow, I took the Romanian Emily into one of the Three Cats separee and enjoyed the greatest sexual experience of my life, again without any actual sex taking place.