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.

I love the scientific analysis of my life [10th September 2006]

I love the scientific analysis of my life, like Nietzsche. In Nietzschean numbered paragraphs. Like the Rhine Zeitung newspaper articles of Karl Marx. Like the Die Fackel magazine articles of Karl Kraus. Apocalyptic, messianic, satirical. This is not possible when I have drink in my head all the time. It is also true, that some of the high moments of my life have come in the Astral Cinema and the Boulevard Cinema and the Sunset Cinema. Remember that big mullet haired guy who pulled his shorts down all the way to his ankles & sat there with a tube of soap or vaseline, regularly applying it to his cock in the Astral. Remember Red Riding Hood night when I sat for six hours in the front row of Soho Cinema till I was raw & practically passing out from the smoky, fuggy, sticky, lubricious atmosphere and when I finally left I crossed deserted Leicester Square in the lashing rain. Remember black dress Kay in the front row of Sunset sitting completely naked as black man put his huge dick in her mouth, businessman with trousers round ankles put condom on & fucked her, before "monicering" her over her tits, all the time while she stroked my cock with her hand. Remember red bra girl in the Sunset. Not to mention the highs I have reached in Berlin Erotic Centre, or Sarah Young, or Atlantic City or Sexyland kabins, or ML Revue cabins, or the Brussels Gare du Nord cabins. 

On the train into London last night in the pitch dark, I felt so much like I was on that train to Nuremberg. It crept and creaked along & I felt with every minute that passes I am getting nearer to Nuremberg and I remembered that absolutely mindblowing nervousness I used to feel on those three visits. By the time I got off & was walking along the station corridor from the platform I could hardly breathe. I was gasping and hyperventilating and shaking, knowing I would soon be in the Pils Bar and the Caribic. Also I felt like I was on the train into Vienna. 

Why do I say I love travelling when the trips are filled with such sadness and despair? [24th August 2006]

Why do I say I love travelling when the trips are filled with such sadness and despair? Because in the sadness and despair I still find jewels, and have incredible experiences, like Clarisse, Martina, Erica, etc, etc. And after all the sadness and despair is no different from what I feel at home. That is just who I am. I take it everywhere with me. Europe offers greater sensual pleasures that is all. The greatest moments have always involved the porn cinema or videokabins. It is almost a year ago I first met black dress Kay, what a sexy moment that was, as she stroked my cock with her hand, as the black guy put his huge cock in her mouth and other guy put condom on & fucked her before coming over her breasts!

The pleasure of travelling around Europe by train is so great even if I'm lonely because when I am lonely I write the most [17th August 2006]

The pleasure of travelling around Europe by train is so great, even if I'm lonely, because when I am lonely I write the most. It is Nietzsche in cold stoveless rooms writing with blue hands, while weeping, writing in blood. That is what I like best. So what I owe £6,000. You cannot take it with you. I might as well live intensely for the next few years while the rausch is on me. I am inclined to go to Berlin in January for La Traviata and Carmina Burana. That will mean I should go to Munich and Vienna at the end of October, to pull into Munich Hauptbahnhof in the dark at 7 o'clock at night and walk into the Intercity, for a couple of beers from the minibar, shower, couple of beers down in the bar, before rounding the corner into Atlantic City. The next day I can enjoy the gorgeous Lamm's and that night maybe go to Nuremberg coming back for 6:30 breakfast. So Thursday get Eurostar to Brussels Radisson SAS, few drinks in bar, up to Empire and Gare du Nord. Next lunchtime to Munich. Saturday night in Nuremberg and Sunday lazing in Munich? or train to Vienna? Monday night arrive in Vienna for some drinks from minibar then Dorint bar, then Seilerstatte. Next night Pour Platin and ML Revue. Yes, Munich and Vienna in end of October, save Berlin for January. That will give me all of November and December, another 8 weeks, to save for Berlin. Munich more than anywhere is really the City in the Autumn Stars. It even has a Rosenstraße!!!! Maybe I could buy some new boots. I am really going to enjoy myself this autumn in Munich and Vienna. Still, before I go, I would like to return at least once to Sunset Cinema and then to see Demi and Pamela. This time I will take some pictures in Munich at night. I am going to really absorb myself in Munich and draw out of it as much as I can this time.

Why do I wake up at 2AM feeling so unhappy? [16th August 2006]

Why do I wake up at 2AM feeling so unhappy? I feel like I want to cry. I had such an unhappy dream. I was trapped on a long distance train going across Europe and I knew no longer wanted to be on it, but I was trapped. I had no choice. In reflection in the window I saw an old man with black holes where eyes should be. It is almost a premonition of myself in 20 or 30 years time. I felt like I was trapped on this train, and trapped in this travelling, without aim and without enjoyment. Maybe it is just the after effects of the drink. Drink causes depression and low moods. Such a reversal of how I felt on the train home last night. Instead of having my epiphany in the Calcutta, I had it on the train home. As the train neared home in the darkness from station to station closer to ——-, I imagined I was on my train in Europe, getting nearer and nearer to pulling in at my final destination of Munich, or Vienna, or Berlin, and I felt again that intense excitement of about to arrive. How exciting it is to arrive at a place by train, not by plane. It made me really want to be on that train to Munich, or Vienna, or Berlin. The great thing about arriving by train is I know my hotel is right next to the station in Munich, and in Vienna, and very close even in Berlin, and in Brussels. To arrive in Munich at night is so exciting, when everywhere is so dark, and all lit up, and the night is about to begin. Very soon I can be heading over the road to Atlantic City and the night can really begin. Now, however, this morning I feel like I do not want to travel to those places and do those tawdry things again. I am sick of those places, and throwing all my money away. As always in the mornings I am most conservative and frightened, and at night I am most wild and hedonistic.

Ecstatic outpourings (1st July 2006)

Ecstatic outpourings. It is easy to say I am wasting my life and my money on all these whores and strippers, in London and Berlin and Vienna and Brussels. Rather, aren’t they the best thing about life? Aren’t they the alpha and omega of life? Aren’t they the brief moments that persuade us to put off suicide a little longer? Do they not provide the very greatest, and most precious and treasured memories of my life? Aren’t my greatest regrets, indeed, that I did NOT do anything with Clarisse in Brussels, I did NOT do anything with the Ukrainian sisters Alla & Olga in Berlin, I did NOT do anything with Martina in Nuremberg? So what I owe £5,800 on my credit card? That seems like nothing. Aren’t travelling round Europe and London in search of the biggest-breasted whores and strippers the greatest point of life, and the most worthwhile quest!?

So that is it, June is over. The first half of the year is over. Most of it lost in suffering over —–, then recovering via Melani and Pamela and Demi.

I find it impossible to give anything with people at work, because I am just desperately counting down the nights and hours till I can get back to Sunset or the Scotsman or the cinema or a whore. That is all I think about.**********I feel very depressed now. By all the above. There is nothing in my life except that, and the writing. I can only be alone. I cannot bear to be with another person. Nobody could bear to be with me.

I WANT TO WRITE LIKE E.E.CUMMINGS. I WANT TO WRITE LIKE HART CRANE. I WANT TO WRITE LIKE PHILIP O’CONNOR. I WANT MY WORDS TO APPEAR IN OLD PAPERBACK BOOKS LIKE I FIND IN THE CHARING CROSS ROAD SECOND HAND BOOKSHOPS. I want to write about solipsism, and what it is like to never connect. To always live alone. To always retreat from people when they try to get close. Only when I feel most bleak and lonely can I write.

The friendships I NEARLY developed with Iga and Riccarda, with Viktoriya and Irina and Susi, with Ana Maria and Lela, and —– and Melani.

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.

The pleasure of travelling around Europe by train is so great even if I’m lonely because when I am lonely I write the most (17th August 2006)

The pleasure of travelling around Europe by train is so great, even if I’m lonely, because when I am lonely I write the most. It is Nietzsche in cold stoveless rooms writing with blue hands, while weeping, writing in blood. That is what I like best. So what I owe £6,000. You cannot take it with you. I might as well live intensely for the next few years while the rausch is on me. I am inclined to go to Berlin in January for La Traviata and Carmina Burana. That will mean I should go to Munich and Vienna at the end of October, to pull into Munich Hauptbahnhof in the dark at 7 o’clock at night and walk into the Intercity, for a couple of beers from the minibar, shower, couple of beers down in the bar, before rounding the corner into Atlantic City. The next day I can enjoy the gorgeous Lamm's and that night maybe go to Nuremberg coming back for 630 breakfast. So Thursday get Eurostar to Brussels Radisson SAS, few drinks in bar, up to Empire and Gare du Nord. Next lunchtime to Munich. Saturday night in Nuremberg and Sunday lazing in Munich? or train to Vienna? Monday night arrive in Vienna for some drinks from minibar then Dorint bar, then Seilerstatte. Next night Pour Platin and ML Revue. Yes, Munich and Vienna in end of October, save Berlin for January. That will give me all of November and December, another eight weeks, to save for Berlin. Munich more than anywhere is really the City in the Autumn Stars. It even has a Rosenstrasse! Maybe I could buy some new boots. I am really going to enjoy myself this autumn in Munich and Vienna. Still, before I go, I would like to return at least once to Cotton Club Cinema and then to see Demi and Pamela. This time I will take some pictures in Munich at night. I am going to really absorb myself in Munich and draw out of it as much as I can this time. 

OK now I have woken up a bit, I think yes of course I must travel, and put it on my cards. That is what cards are for, to enable you to stretch yourself and have amazing experiences. Even the failed visit to Frankfurt now seems so evocative. Even the last visit to Berlin had Erika, Alla & Olga, Serail at the Komische Oper, not to mention the one night with Prokina at the Deutsche Oper and Wild Hunt in the BEC, coming back home through those leaf-strewn back streets, crossing the Ku'damm STILL with an enormous swollen rolling cock in my trousers! Fantastic. Even the last trip to Brussels brought some fantastic large breasted women, and-amazingly–still that gorgeous McDonald’s girl! Oh the Pullman! Oh the Cafe Belge! I cannot WAIT for end of October so I can pull into Munich station at night, go straight into the Intercity (or Regent?), then straight out to Atlantic City to drink. Next day wake up midday to go for my gorgeous Lamm's, New Pin, back to sleep a little before getting evening train to Nuremberg for Pils Bar and Caribic. 4am milk train back in time for 6am Intercity breakfast! Spend Sunday in Munich, or use it to get to Vienna? Have a rostbraten when I arrive in Vienna and a quiet Sunday night in perhaps, getting very drunk in the Dorint bar. Then Monday, Dorint bar early for some zipfers, then out to St Stephen’s, the Pummerin, the Butterfly House, KHM and Leopold. Back to sleep, before off out to explore Seilerstatte first. Maybe on way back to hotel I can pop into Manhattan or Pour Platin for nightcap. Tuesday night back up to ML Revue then exploring Gurtel on way back, Angelique, Pour Platin. It will be expensive but it has got to be done. Then I can wait for Berlin in January for La Traviata and Carmina Burana–a full 15 months after I last set foot in Berlin!!!—knowing I can then stay at home for rest of year to pay it off. 

Oh how I love to be awake at 4 o’clock in the morning! This is my time! I want to fuck those Vienna whores. Viennese Eroticism. Bad Timing. The Night Porter. Mando Diao. Saybia. The Libertines. Soulwax. Galvanise. Maria. Harrieta. Of COURSE I must go back to Vienna first. Tonight feels like a significant night. The night I realised Munich and Vienna must come first and it feels right.

Why do I wake up at 2AM feeling so unhappy? (16th August 2006)

Why do I wake up at 2AM feeling so unhappy? I feel like I want to cry. I had such an unhappy dream. I was trapped on a long distance train going across Europe and I knew no longer wanted to be on it, but I was trapped. I had no choice. In reflection in the window I saw an old man with black holes where eyes should be. It is almost a premonition of myself in 20 or 30 years time. I felt like I was trapped on this train, and trapped in this travelling, without aim and without enjoyment. Maybe it is just the after effects of the drink. Drink causes depression and low moods. Such a reversal of how I felt on the train home last night. Instead of having my epiphany in the Calcutta, I had it on the train home. As the train neared home in the darkness from station to station closer to ——, I imagined I was on my train in Europe, getting nearer and nearer to pulling in at my final destination of Munich, or Vienna, or Berlin, and I felt again that intense excitement of about to arrive. How exciting it is to arrive at a place by train, not by plane. It made me really want to be on that train to Munich, or Vienna, or Berlin. The great thing about arriving by train is I know my hotel is right next to the station in Munich, and in Vienna, and very close even in Berlin, and in Brussels. To arrive in Munich at night is so exciting, when everywhere is so dark, and all lit up, and the night is about to begin. Very soon I can be heading over the road to Atlantic City and the night can really begin. Now, however, this morning I feel like I do not want to travel to those places and do those tawdry things again. I am sick of those places, and throwing all my money away. As always in the mornings I am most conservative and frightened, and at night I am most wild and hedonistic. 

Who would I want to be with now? No one. I am happy to be in bed alone. And yet I am very lonely. I feel cosmically alone.  Again in the Calcutta–Monkeys From the Ritz to the Rubble on the jukebox– there was a sexy little brown bob thing sitting opposite me as I sat in the box seat, black top, black miniskirt, showing a lot of thigh. It was sexually exciting. I only had two. It is never the same when I have got my bag with me and I am travelling home. I am sure I will stay longer Friday. How lovely to go to Brussels for four days and just do NOTHING. I like to go to places where I can do nothing. Just sit in the Pullman getting drunk while watching the girls pass. Just sit up on O’Neill's balcony watching the girls pass. Just sit in the window of Cafe Belge watching the girls pass. Maybe the Radisson SAS, too. It is true, this money I am saving I must use it to pay off the £6,000 debt because in October the Virgin interest is going to cripple me. And yet, I read of university students leaving with £12,000 debts and I think mine is not so bad, when  I have got a secure (?) job I really like. 


Yesterday I was thinking I want to go to Europe and just go really mad and really for one week just not care about the bills, just fuck everyone—fuck Evalina, fuck Maya, fuck Erika, fuck Olga & Alla. Have the wildest time of my life and then spend the rest of the year paying for it, but what wild erotic memories. Or go to Vienna and fuck Maria, fuck Angelique, fuck Irina double. Go completely wild, that is what holidays are for. I CANNOT go again feeling depressed and miserable and controlling myself. It is not worth going to brothels controlling yourself! And for me Vienna, Berlin, Munich, Brussels, Frankfurt are just vast brothels and nothing else. For me holidays are for dirty sex and nothing else, I just dress it up with art and opera. My holidays are Rabelaisian, Chaucerian treks and pilgrimages. I feel almost medieval, especially if I go by train. Pulling into these great cathedrals that are the railway stations. I don’t know what to do. I change my mind from minute to minute again. I think of course I will not go at the end of October. That will slip by like May did. Now I must think about January for La Traviata and Carmina Burana if at all. Of course October is too soon. Oh to be arriving in Berlin by train, or Munich by train, or Vienna by train, at night.

I HAVE GOT TO KILL THIS STRIPPER ADDICTION NOW! (8th August 2006)

I HAVE GOT TO KILL THIS STRIPPER ADDICTION NOW!! So  maybe I could save 800 before end of August? Let’s say I aim to get my credit card bill down to 4900 by end of October, then I can go??? LET US LIVE LIKE A MONK ALL THROUGH AUGUST SEPTEMBER and OCTOBER. 

I will allow myself Calcutta only, and occasionally Cotton Club Cinema and Demi or Pamela.  Wouldn’t it be fantastic if on this Grand Tour I could get to see Tosca at Berlin Unter Den Linden, Maria Stuart at Berlin Unter Den Linden, The Makropulos Case in Copenhagen, and Elena Prokina in Boccanegra in Hamburg! What a holiday that would be! The thing about going on holiday to Europe is that you get really dirty sex and really dirty sexual encounters. For hell’s sake, I spent 426 on strippers in the last ten weeks and what did I get out of any of it?? Not one real dirty erotic memory. Demi was good, yes, Pamela, sucking Pamela’s breasts, yes, with Kay in cinema yes, with blonde in cinema yes. But strippers? No!!!! Convert that £426 into Euros and you get=630 Euros!!! That would have paid for four nights in Berlin Plaza, with 400 Euros left for Ciro, 150 with Erika, 50 with Maya, 150 with Alla, 50 on pornography!! I CAN make the flat and travelling work–BUT ONLY BY CHANGING MY BEHAVIOUR IN LONDON!!! Sexy things always happen when you travel. Remember the blonde bar girl Best Western Ku’damm? Meeting Nephania in Brussels? Nothing sexy happens in King’s Cross or the Cotton Club. Save ALL your money for travelling!

I now feel like Europe here I come. I haven’t quite felt the cold icy air of the mountains, but we are on our way now. I feel like some awful spell has been broken, and I have been released. Why could I have been so blind? We have gone past the Lost In Space boundary and are now heading towards the Event Horizon. “I think I only needed something to hold on to. It has never been about depravity. It’s always been about melody. But melody and I met in many depraved situations. Meeting melody is the victory of the empty spiralling nightmare.” “Get to grips with the idea that it is eating away at your money, your love and your life.” 

I must travel. It is my vital sustenance. CHECK OKTOBERFEST! I like sheer eroticism, not getting to know them. It is Karen Elson with Virgin Mary on her vest on Egon Schiele night. Pure Priapism. And whenever I am ready next year, I can move back into a flat again, maybe even back into W-- House! Let me make the most of these last 3 months in my flat. Use it for the solitude and the writing.

I think I need to go somewhere where I am going to get maximum bang for my buck. Vienna would be so expensive. It does not even start till 100 to 150 Euros. All I can do in Vienna is enjoy my Zipfers with the lovely-white shirted Dorint girls, then enjoy the films in ML Revue or somewhere similar, and then….? Go into Manhattan or Angelique or Pour Platin for a 150 Euro f–k with a stunningly beautiful girl like Maria admittedly, but there is no cheaper option, so all you have got is the films. In Munich similarly, what is there? After my gorgeous Lamm’s, what is there but Atlantic City, and maybe a 50 Euro private dance if there is someone spectacular like Patricia or Irina. Sexyland, forget about it. I mean really what would I do in Vienna? I would be so frustrated. After the pornographic movies I would come out to the clubs, & just find one girl after another trying to get 50 Euro cocktails out of me and a 100 Euro f–k. Same as last time. It would be so frustrating all the girls are out of my price range when in London I can have Pamela or Demi for just £20! I mean really what would I do in Munich? I would be so frustrated, getting so hyped up before going into Atlantic City, finding desultory bored unsexy Ukrainians & Romanians, come out still feeling so frustrated, looking for a whore, and just finding all those clubs in Schillerstraße, with their 150 Euro champagne massages!!!! Complete frustration and expensive frustration. At least in Vienna for 100 or 150 Euros you do at least get a f–k with a beautiful girl like Maria. In Munich it will just get you a fumble & a drink! And I do remember feeling as uncomfortable in Atlantic City the last time as I do in Sunset. It has been spoiled. God, do you not still remember how crushingly bored you were when you went to Munich in January!? As soon as you arrived you were thinking what have I done! Did I even get to Nuremberg that time? Pils Bar for a very expensive drink with a girl who will not touch you. Caribic was fun on that Saturday night but ultimately totally frustrating again. I had to get the 4AM train back to Munich without even having had a w–k. It’s all about squeezing maximum money out of you for drinks with the girls while giving you nothing in return.

Listening to all this Viennese music—Webern 5 Orchestral Pieces, Joseph Korngold lush late romanticism—makes me think of Vienna (27th July 2006)

Listening to all this Viennese music—Webern 5 Orchestral Pieces, Joseph Korngold lush late romanticism—makes me think of Vienna. Even though I wrote her name small, Maria is surely the most beautiful girl I have ever f—-d. Surely the sexiest. Now I look at all my pictures and think they are in a Vienna hotel room with Vienna just outside. Viennese Eroticism, there is nothing quite like it. Bad Timing. The Night Porter. There’s not many Brazilians in Europe, all Poles, Czechs, Romanians, Ukrainians. A couple of stand out Brazilians in Munich in Patricia and Bella Rosa, it is true. In London it is nearly ALL Brazilians! I should stay in the Radisson SAS in Vienna, if only for the first night.
We are approaching the Lost in Space boundary.
You Don’t Know Me.
********
I am a writer. I am Francis Bacon. I am eccentric and wild.
All that matters is the books, the long journeys across Europe. Writing alone with blue hands in cold stoveless rooms.