I love the scientific analysis of my life (10th Sept 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. All of them supposed to have some Jewish blood in them, as I have Irish blood in me. 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 “monica'ring” her over her breasts, 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. Melani said she wanted to go with me to the opera & I stayed away from her. Pamela hinted she would like to go to the seaside with me & I stayed away from her. Florence said she wanted to go out with me & on that Madonna Hung Up and Beyonce Check On It night, when —– thanked me for the postcard, I let her go. I do not want to go out with girls. Going out with Chess Goddess and Lotta were horrible stressful experiences and like Jason Bourne I was checking sightlines and looking for exits the whole time. The happy, magical nights I have had in the crowded bearpits of Sunset Strip, Gold Dress Gold Shoes girl on The Beast December night, Jolanda Red Right Hand, or Flying Scotsman Sex on the Beach, Sylvia Walpurgis Night, Tais Lola, Janet Material Girl, or Atlantic City. And they are only any good when they are crowded bearpits. Remember how crowded the Atlantic City cinema used to get when the girl came on to strip just once an hour? They are only good when the men are screaming at the girl on stage as like beasts in the menagerie. Yes, it will be too soon to go back to Vienna but the thrill of being in Vienna in December…? Yes, I do not want to go back to the drunken, tiring Midnight Bell but it is very special to see Florence dancing to Shakira or Gnarls Barkley…? Afterwards I could come back to Charing Cross on the 91 and then get a 176 up to Tottenham Court Road tube to walk down to Sunset Cinema. I will start to allow myself every Saturday off as my Hogarthian night. My Rake’s Progress night. My Frank Wedekind night.

La Traviata, the opera of a consumptive whore, is coming to mean something special to me, since seeing Stefania Bonfadelli at the Deutsche Oper, and Christine Schafer at the Staatsoper. It does remind me so much of Riccarda, Diana, Iga, but also of Lela, Ana Maria, Olga, all of whom I have seen deteriorate before my eyes. It is back at ENO this month. There is also Anna Caterina Antonacci and Marina Domashenko as Carmen at Covent Garden.

I have to go out today to get my bus pass, so I will get the bus to Charing Cross & one in the Calcutta & then see what happens from there. I think it is better to go to Vienna in December and Berlin in April for Katerina Dalayman’s Salome. Vienna is a little bit more exotic & still unexplored compared to Berlin. I think if I stayed home in December & then got to Berlin in January I would feel bored there & feeling I had missed something special. Munich was poor in January because I travelled so hard up. Well, by the time of Vienna in December I will still be even more hard up! Go and spend so much money that Berlin in the New Year is out of the question and I can instead concentrate on saving up for April. Walpurgis Night arrival in Berlin. I will have a strictly clinical visit to the Bell tonight, if at all. You have to go out on a Saturday night. Otherwise there is no point being alive.

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 remember that absolutely mind-blowing 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.

At Christmas I really can treat myself to a couple of days in Brussels first (20th August 2006)

At Christmas, I really can treat myself to a couple of days in Brussels first. The longer I can resist travelling for, the more money I will have to spend when I get there, and so the happier I will feel. Especially if I know I can come back to London and pay it off quickly with my new continence. Going to Vienna in December will give me the chance to see the After Schiele exhibition at the Atelier Augarten. ‘Courbet, who in his pictures constantly examined himself and his artistry, often re-worked his portraits according to his moods and viewpoints, and it is possible that the painful separation from his lover in the years between 1851-54 prompted “The Wounded Man”. He sees himself as wounded by heartache and abandoned in a twilit landscape.
One can hardly overlook the similarity between his figure and that of Christ. Identifying with Christ gave the artist the possibility of expressing his status as that of a pariah fired by an ideal, as one burdened with insight in an uncomprehending society, and who suffers greatly because of this. When the Vendôme Column collapsed in Paris, Courbet explicitly cited this concept: “Here I stand before this pillar of infamy, like Jesus when he carried his Cross.” 

Oh God I am so excited about going to Vienna in December! And I am so excited about all the weeks before then, just twelve, when I can not go out, and save money frenziedly. These will be rich weeks, rich in writing and classical music, and ferns. Rich in drinks in the Calcutta, cinema, and time spent with my mother. This week I want to go to the Rebels & Martyrs exhibition, and The Third Man at the NFT. Maybe even Miami Vice. “Boundless aestheticism and ambivalent premonitions of an imminent and inevitable decline brought about a unique atmosphere in turn-of-the-century imperial Vienna, and led to Early Austrian Expressionism.” I am aware of the decline and decadence, the sensual decadence, the diving deeper into darkness, the romantic nihilism in myself, so that is why I am attracted to Vienna around 1900, to Weimar Berlin. If I am to dive deeper into darkness, then let me do it when it is dark, in December! I think a new mature phase of my life is about to begin, it is struggling through its metamorphosis and is just about to emerge from its chrysalis! A new mature diving deeper into darkness! A new mature sensual decadence!

If I can achieve this it will be like shaking hands with myself. A dip in the grotesque.
“Violetta, the courtesan. Always free and libertine, always playful, venerated and admired everywhere she goes. But slowly and imperceptibly, consumption spreads through her body. When she meets Alfredo, she finally discovers true love and denounces her dissolute life. Alfredo’s father begs her to leave his son to save their family’s honor. And so the Traviata, this depraved woman, sacrifices herself for the sake of love and breaks with Alfredo without telling him why. Passionate outbursts abound, and the border between love and hate proves slight – until the truth comes out and love triumphs. But happiness doesn’t last, as death will not be deferred. In spite of its scandalous premiere, La Traviata has easily won a place of honor in the hearts of music-lovers.” How this reminds me of Riccarda. Olga, too, a bit. How I saw Lela deteriorate, and Ana Maria, too. What pleasure I feel at night, just going to the Calcutta for a night cap. It will be great to see Vienna in The Third Man on a big screen again. Oh what a long way off December is! I must be able to enjoy Demi and Pamela before then. There is nothing specially to go for in December so I can go at any time, let’s say arriving Wednesday 6th December in Vienna for four nights, that would be £58 a night and £230 in total. Not bad. I just feel relief and release. Storms, floods and record tides on way. “Storms and floods are forecast in the coming weeks as the hot summer comes to an end. Experts said last night that heavy rainfall was expected to affect many central and eastern regions during the next two days as areas of low pressure sweep in from the Atlantic. Further torrential downpours are forecast for Thursday and Friday.” How to enjoy this? Sitting by my open window in my flat, in the lamplight with the black skies thundering outside, spray splashing into my room, as I write on my laptop, and listen to Viennese music on my tape machine. This is always the greatest pleasure. The simple pleasures are the only realities. It is much more pleasurable to be sitting alone in my flat with the rain pouring down outside, drowning out the music from the tapeplayer inside, than it is to be in my bedroom at home. It is so pleasurable in fact. To think I can just run next door to get a hamburger & fries. I might actually stay in my flat all week this week. No rush to go home as mother is away. I can go home Friday afternoon just for haircut and come back Saturday afternoon, for drink that night in Calcutta. Wednesday I can go for early drink then Rebels & Martyrs, then back early to my flat for evening in. Thursday I can go out at teatime to Calcutta before The Third Man late maybe. Read Karl Marx at night at work.