I wake up midnight with an iron hard erection [30th August 2006]

I wake up midnight, with an iron hard erection. An incredible serendipity. I want European porn again. The Munich Intercity films, the Munich Atlantic City and Sexyland kabins. The Vienna Dorint films. I was dreaming of Kerry Marie a lot. I got the 12:10 bus to Calcutta after a lovely hamburger & fries, without any sleep. Sexy redhead at back in brown jacket & black glasses. Getting on at next stop beautiful black haired Greek looking girl, eyes met, little smile as she squeezed into corner. Pale blue jeans over meaty thighs & bum, pale blue coat, pale blue bandanna headband. White T-shirt. So pretty, got off Vauxhall. Coming into Calcutta just before I left, absolutely mindblowing thick light brown brunette, like Raquel Welch huge hair, red v-neck sweater over massive massive heavy breasts, grey skirt tight over her voluptuous hips & thighs, very self confident ordering her large white wine, sitting at round table behind me. What a sex bomb. I want Sunset again. Black dress Kay. All the money I have spent on strippers and drink this year, and such a small amount on porn cinema & whores. All these Bad Timing and Night Porter pictures form a triumphal way leading to the Ishtar Gate perhaps, of Maria's c*nt. It became clear to me after 1 pint how drink suddenly makes me want to throw my money away. It is such a disinhibitor.****“The paradigm of the romantic bohemian” sitting at the table in the Café am Zoo reading about The Libertines and Pete Doherty in the Observer newspaper, “the outsider painter who pursued his own vision amid a swirl of drugs, alcohol and dissolution”. Oh I cannot wait to get back to Berlin again! If I can achieve this saving, it will be like shaking hands with myself. Sylvia still shines on my horizon higher and brighter and bigger than any other woman. She is a Charlotte Rampling of a woman. In Berlin alone there has been Iga, Diana, Riccarda, Yulia.  “We learnt what our national Church was…a visible testimony of the collective experience of mystery, enshrined by generations in stone and glass. Imagine how we should feel if all the cathedrals were museums. What would be missing? Betjeman gives some hint of what the mysterious something was. It was a something in which, for all his doubts, he most passionately and sincerely believed”. The Arrest of Oscar Wilde in the Cadogan Hotel. “I think I’m excited by extremity. I don’t think of myself as sleazy—I like to think of myself as intrepid. Whether sex, food or going on holiday, whenever I’m confronted by a decision I always do the thing that’ll be the best anecdote.’ Pushing boundaries almost to the point of transgression is his stock in trade, and sex a major topic. ‘I’m just trying to bludgeon ennui,’ he says, ‘trying not to be bored'”. Wouldn’t it be great to always behave myself in London and save it all for Berlin, Vienna, Brussels? Every £50 I spend in London is 74 euros I could use to buy a night in a European hotel. But I have such great memories in London. Cotton and Demi and Pamela. “The smoky Tanz bars of Berlin, where the German public tried to put aside growing concerns about world politics and lose themselves in a seething pit of immorality, decadence and extravagance”.

For all that talk of big breasts I never really made the most of my opportunities [25th August 2006]

For all that talk of big breasts I never really made the most of my opportunities: Clarisse I never even had a 5 euro dance in my seat & refused to talk to her, Martina, I went with Diana instead, Andrea I just had the £20 option instead of half an hour. I can worry about the sadness and despair of my last trips to Berlin, Munich, Brussels, but I always feel this sadness and despair so it is normal & I should enjoy it! There is a kernel inside my brain that only wants to be stimulated by pornographic films and prostitutes, and will never be able to feel anything in real relationships, so I should just understand that and enjoy it. Isn't it great that I now feel so happy in myself and so self-confident, I am writing, I have my own place, I am enjoying the porn films and the prostitutes the same as ever, and no one can touch me. How beaten down I used to be. Not anymore. I am taunting them with what I enjoy that they cannot. I am flaunting it in their angry faces, more and more. I am provoking them more and more. I am Beethoven. I am genius. Alcazar Crying at the Discotheque. My God I cannot wait to get back to Vienna again! Back to the Ring! I cannot wait to see Jolanda again. And Melani. Then on to Demi or Pamela. Oh travel is so much the greatest thing. I try so hard to recreate the sensations I feel when I am on holiday. That feeling drinking beer from my minbar in my Munich hotel room before going to Atlantic City. Or drinking in my Vienna hotel room before going to ML Revue. Or in Berlin before going to BEC and Stuttgarter Platz.**********I lead a strange existence. I read and write for a couple of hours, then sleep for a couple of hours. Listen to some classical music for an hour, then read & write some more, then sleep some more. ********What a great life this is. Sleep for a few hours, get up to read and write for a few hours, listen to classical music for a while, sleep some more, for three or four days a week. Even my bad trips still produced interesting experiences. I need complete isolation. Complete peace. Complete solitude. I can only exist in solipsism, and its military wing, Priapism. I enjoyed living in the broken world of strippers and whores. But I fell in love with one of the strippers and started embarrassing myself. I want to write a magazine like Simplicissimus and Die Fackel. Or make my satiric interventions on, for example, BITE, or Openlegs4u. I would restart The Serpents Egg either on wildeboy.com or Yahoo360 but I would have to reveal too much about myself. My life revolves around strippers and whores and yet I cannot talk about that. 95% of my life would have to remain hidden under the surface leaving only the tip of the iceberg which is not worth talking about. 

I think Brussels was so exciting because I knew it was just the first leg of my European tour (7th August 2006)

I think Brussels was so exciting because I knew it was just the first leg of my European tour, and after sampling the delights of the Museum of Modern Art, Wiertz, Pullman bar, and Gare du Nord, I could head off later in the week on the long train journey to Koln and Munich, and that night be heading over Bayerstraße to the White Coffin, on Saturday getting the train to Nuremberg for the Pils Bar and the Caribic, before then heading off again to Vienna, knowing that Manhattan and ML Revue and Pour Platin were waiting for me, before heading off a few days later for Berlin, knowing that Stuttgarter Platz was waiting for me and the Berlin Erotic Centre. Maybe this time I can finish up in Copenhagen for the The Makropulos Case? I want that Interrail pass again! £380 for the train pass, then maybe cheap Radisson hotels in Brussels, Vienna and Berlin? Ah but it is spending money that is the thing. Now that I have given up Sunset Strip and King's Cross, perhaps my finances will improve a bit? JUST IN JUNE AND JULY ALONE I HAVE SPENT £424 ON STRIPPERS ALONE!!!! What did Pete say? I need to see how it is destroying me. Get this: Since the New Year I HAVE SPENT £1,778 ON STRIPPERS ALONE!!! What hideous wastefulness on something that I was increasingly starting to despise. If I could have that £1,778 back now, it would pay for the Interrail pass, and every hotel for two weeks, and give me all the whoring money I could ever need. Since moving into the flat on November 17th I have spent more than £2,000 on strippers alone. And it is worse than that, because the vast majority of my drinks bill in that time---£515 in June and July alone! £1,867 since December 10th! has been consumed in the strip clubs. Without the Bell and Sunset Strip I reckon I would now be owing just £2,400 on my credit cards instead of £5,900. These are sobering figures. For sure I could go on that long train journey to Europe in December if not for that. PLEASE GIVE UP THE STRIPPERS!!!! Just concentrate on the Calcutta, Sunset Cinema, and Demi and Pamela from now on. By the end of August and September that should save me £900 alone. DO IT. Do it, so I can see Brussels again, I can see Gare du Nord again, I can go to the White Coffin again, I can go to the Pils Bar and Caribic again, I can go to Pour Platin and Manhattan again, I can go to Berlin Ciro again.

I wake up midnight with an iron hard erection (30th August 2006)

I wake up midnight, with an iron hard erection. An incredible serendipity. I want European pornography again. The Munich Intercity films, the Munich Atlantic City and Sexyland kabins. The Vienna Dorint films. I was dreaming of K.M. a lot. I got the 12:10 bus to Calcutta after a lovely hamburger & fries, without any sleep. Sexy redhead at back in brown jacket & black glasses. Getting on at next stop beautiful black-haired Greek-looking girl, eyes met, little smile as she squeezed into corner. Pale blue jeans over meaty thighs & bum, pale blue coat, pale blue bandanna headband. White T-shirt. So pretty, got off Vauxhall. Coming into Calcutta just before I left, absolutely mindblowing thick light brown brunette, like Raquel Welch huge hair, red v-neck sweater over massive massive heavy breasts, grey skirt tight over her voluptuous hips & thighs, very self confident ordering her large white wine, sitting at round table behind me. What a sex bomb. I want Sunset again. Black dress Kay. All the money I have spent on strippers and drink this year, and such a small amount on pornographic cinema & whores. All these Bad Timing and Night Porter pictures form a triumphal way leading to the Ishtar Gate perhaps, of Maria’s cunt. It became clear to me after 1 pint, how drink suddenly makes me want to throw my money away. It is such a disinhibitor.

“The paradigm of the romantic bohemian” sitting at the table in the Cafe am Zoo reading about The Libertines and Pete Doherty in the Observer newspaper, “the outsider painter who pursued his own vision amid a swirl of drugs, alcohol and dissolution”. Oh I cannot wait to get back to Berlin again! If I can achieve this saving, it will be like shaking hands with myself. Sylvia still shines on my horizon higher and brighter and bigger than any other woman. She is a Charlotte Rampling of a woman. In Berlin alone there has been Iga, Diana, Riccarda, Yulia. “We learnt what our national Church was…a visible testimony of the collective experience of mystery, enshrined by generations in stone and glass. Imagine how we should feel if all the cathedrals were museums. What would be missing? Betjeman gives some hint of what the mysterious something was. It was a something in which, for all his doubts, he most passionately and sincerely believed”. The Arrest of Oscar Wilde in the Cadogan Hotel. “I think I’m excited by extremity. I don’t think of myself as sleazy–I like to think of myself as intrepid. Whether sex, food or going on holiday,whenever I’m confronted by a decision I always do the thing that’ll be the best anecdote.’ Pushing boundaries almost to the point of transgression is his stock in trade, and sex a major topic. ‘I’m just trying to bludgeon ennui,’ he says, ‘trying not to be bored'”.

Wouldn’t it be great to always behave myself in London and save it all for Berlin, Vienna, Brussels? Every £50 I spend in London is 74 euros I could use to buy a night in a European hotel. But I have such great memories in London. Sunset and Demi and Pamela. “The smoky Tanz bars of Berlin,where the German public tried to put aside growing concerns about world politics and lose themselves in a seething pit of immorality, decadence and extravagance”. The world has already entered a state of dangerous climate change. “No longer passionate enough about it to be disappointed”. How fantastic to have  my own place! Never take that for granted. Just yards from the bus stop to Charing Cross, next door to McDonald's, just opposite a mini supermarket & paper shop. It is not just saving money, it is stopping myself being drunk & hungover all the time. It is losing weight, too. It is not about writing about it on Bite or Virtual Tourist, it is just about the books.

For all that talk of big breasts I never really made the most of my opportunities (25th August 2006)

For all that talk of big breasts I never really made the most of my opportunities: Clarisse I never even had a 5 euro dance in my seat & refused to talk to her, Martina, I went with Diana instead, Andrea I just had the £20 option instead of half an hour. I can worry about the sadness and despair of my last trips to Berlin, Munich, Brussels, but I always feel this sadness and despair so it is normal & I should enjoy it! There is a kernel inside my brain that only wants to be stimulated by pornographic films and prostitutes, and will never be able to feel anything in real relationships, so I should just understand that and enjoy it. Isn’t it great that I now feel so happy in myself and so self-confident, I am writing, I have my own place, I am enjoying the pornographic films and the prostitutes the same as ever, and no one can touch me. How beaten down I used to be. Not anymore. I am taunting them with what I enjoy that they cannot. I am flaunting it in their angry faces, more and more. I am provoking them more and more. I am Beethoven. I am genius.
Alcazar Crying at the Discotheque. My God I cannot wait to get back to Vienna again! Back to the Ring! I cannot wait to see Jolanda again. And Melani. Then on to Demi or Pamela. Oh travel is so much the greatest thing.
I try so hard to recreate the sensations I feel when I am on holiday. That feeling drinking beer from my minibar in my Munich hotel room before going to Atlantic City. Or drinking in my Vienna hotel room before going to ML Revue. Or in Berlin before going to BEC and Stuttgarter Platz.

Well, this morning I was able to pay £300 off my Barclaycard. The long road back starts here. I felt so uncomfortable when I came out my flat 930am yesterday morning. I had two pints in the Calcutta before getting the 23:19 home. ENJOY ALL MY TAPES AND MY VIDEOS! WHAT A COLLECTION I HAVE AMASSED!
I lead a strange existence. I read and write for a couple of hours, then sleep for a couple of hours. Listen to some classical music for an hour, then read & write some more, then sleep some more.

What a great life this is. Sleep for a few hours, get up to read and write for a few hours, listen to classical music for a while, sleep some more, for three or four days a week. Even my bad trips still produced interesting experiences. I need complete isolation. Complete peace. Complete solitude. I can only exist in solipsism, and its military wing, Priapism. I enjoyed living in the broken world of strippers and whores. But I fell in love with one of the strippers and started embarrassing myself. I want to write a magazine like Simpliccimus and Die Fackel. Or make my satiric interventions on, for example, BITE, or Openlegs4u. I would restart The Serpent’s Egg either on wildeboy.com or Yahoo360 but I would have to reveal too much about myself. My life revolves around strippers and whores and yet I cannot talk about that. 95% of my life would have to remain hidden under the surface leaving only the tip of the iceberg which is not worth talking about.

I agonise about whether it is really worth going to Berlin and Vienna and Munich and Brussels now and how all my brilliant memories are so far in the past but only because I do not have the money now (10th August 2006)

I agonise about whether it is really worth going to Berlin and Vienna and Munich and Brussels now, and how all my brilliant memories are so far in the past, but only because I do not have the money now. If I was a millionaire, I would LOVE Vienna and would have no reservations about it at all. I would go there and spend 100 euros a time so freely & easily. It is only because I am so poor and so much in debt, that I now agonise about those places, and torment myself, can I go or not. If I had money I would live freely & be the happiest whorer in the world. I would fuck every one of the whores in Vienna. I would fuck Alla & Olga together in Berlin, I would fuck Erika. I would fuck twenty of the Brussels windows girls. Munich is not worse than it used to be, Vienna is not worse than it used to be, Berlin is not worse than it used to be. It is just now I owe £6,000 when I used to owe £60. If I do give up the strippers in London, and the thought of going back to Sunset or King’s Cross fills me with an almost physical revulsion, and my visits to the White Horse, Old Axe, Rainbows, Browns, Griffin, Queen Anne,  Nag’s Head were some of the most dispiriting & crushingly dull moments of my life, that will enable me to pay off more of my credit card bills than I ever did before. Really after those initial lung-bursting three ascents to Brussels, to Munich,and then to Berlin, my holidays have become increasingly dispiriting and miserable, and that is because my debt has started to constrain me so much. I would enjoy those places as much as ever if I could go back to them owing no money as I did then. 

In June and July I spent £362 on strippers and £465 on drink. Just in June & July that is £800 I could have had in my Woolwich account or I could have reduced my Visa debt from £1,600 to £800. In April & May I spent £471 on strippers and £382 on drink. That is a further £850 added to £800 makes £1,600. So from the four months April-May-June-July I could have had an extra £1,600 in my Woolwich account, OR REDUCED MY VISA DEBT TO £0! Now will it bring it home to you! “It is eating away at your money, your love and your life”. I say oh I owe six thousands pounds on my credit cards, I don’t see how I can ever pay it off, and yet just in four months April May June July I could have reduced my Barclaycard debt from £1,600 to zero.

I am on such an exciting new project now. I am as thrilled by the prospect of tightening my belt, and living like a monk, and saving money now, as I used to be by living wildly and spraying my money around and living hedonistically. It will be such a slow process before I notice any difference though. Like a supertanker, your personal finances are very slow to turn around. Your Love Is Like Poison, the song that Florence put on & I felt it was aimed at me. Yes, my love is like poison and my love of strippers had become like poison. Like alcohol poisoning your blood by too much drink, I had stripper poisoned by blood. My love was like poison to Florence, to Jolanda and to Melani. All of them started off liking me then wanted to avoid me. Finally now I have the chance to remove the poison from the blood and be clean again. Confessions of an English Opium Eater I carried around with me Friday, and really strippers have been my opium over the years, ever since I first fell into it on that dark, stormy September afternoon on the shining road of Dean Street 14 years ago. I have been in its thrall ever since. And yes in the early days it provided me with magical moments, supremely high moments, but increasingly over the years those high moments became fewer and further between as my addiction worsened, and became nothing but habit, with no joy or excitement left in it. Those red wig days, Czech Boulevard girl days, gold dress days, Carnival days, are very far in my past now. Now there are only the desperate depraved addict's memories of my appalling behaviour. How thrilled I will be now by watching my Woolwich building society account filling up and rising from minus to plus, from plus 100 to 200 to 300. That will be my high now. That will be my addiction now–hoarding money. I will get as much thrill from hoarding money as I used to from spending it. Oh, if only I could have had this revelation earlier, if only I could have had this road to Damascus conversion sooner! But it has to come when the moment is right. I had to wait until I suddenly became physically revolted. I had to wait until the poison became so bad that it reached the tipping point and where it suddenly physically made me sick.

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.

I think Brussels was so exciting because I knew it was just the first leg of my European tour (7th August 2006)

I think Brussels was so exciting because I knew it was just the first leg of my European tour, and after sampling the delights of the Museum of Modern Art, Wiertz, Pullman bar, and Gare du Nord, I could head off later in the week on the long train journey to Koln and Munich, and that night be heading over Bayerstrasse to the White Coffin, on Saturday getting the train to Nuremberg for the Pils and the Caribic, before then heading off again to Vienna, knowing that Manhattan and ML Revue and Pour Platin were waiting for me, before heading off a few days later for Berlin, knowing that Stuttgarter Platz was waiting for me and the Berlin Erotic Centre. Maybe this time I can finish up in Copenhagen for The Makropulos Case? 

I want that Interrail pass again! £380 for the train pass, then maybe cheap Radisson hotels in Brussels, Vienna and Berlin? Ah but it is spending money that is the thing. Now that I have given up the Cotton Club and King’s Cross, perhaps my finance will improve a bit? JUST IN JUNE AND JULY ALONE I HAVE SPENT £424 ON STRIPPERS ALONE!!!! What did Pete say? I need to see how it is destroying me. Get this: Since the New Year I HAVE SPENT £1,778 ON STRIPPERS ALONE!!! What hideous wastefulness on something that I was increasingly starting to despise. If I could have that £1,778 back now, it would pay for the Interrail pass, and every hotel for two weeks, and give me all the whoring money I could ever need. Since moving into the flat on November 17th I have spent more than £2,000 on strippers alone. And it is worse than that, because the vast majority of my drinks bill in that time–£515 in June and July alone! £1,867 since December 10th! has been consumed in the strip clubs. Without the Bell and the Cotton Club I reckon I would now be owing just £2,400 on my credit cards instead of £5,900. These are sobering figures. For sure I could go on that long train journey to Europe in December if not for that. PLEASE GIVE UP THE STRIPPERS!!!! Just concentrate on the Calcutta, the Cotton Club Cinema, and Demi and Pamela from now on. By the end of August and September that should save me£900 alone. DO IT. Do it, so I can see Brussels again, I can see Gare du Nord again, I can go to the White Coffin again, I can go to the Pils Bar and Caribic again, I can go to Pour Platin and Manhattan again, I can go to Berlin Ciro again.