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 am a great believer that you carry the weather with you [9th September 2006]

I am a great believer that you carry the weather with you. If you travel with a spark, a dancing flame inside you, you will have a great time. If you travel unhappy, and in a black place, weighed down by worries and debts, you will have a sad time. I cannot say the well in Munich has run dry; probably it is my well that has run dry. When my well fills up again, by making myself happier, ridding myself of obsessions, financial worries, anxieties, paranoid depressions, I will find Munich’s well is full to overbrimming again, stars filling the throat to the crop, as it was absolutely full to overbrimming when I met Susi, Irina on the night of Turkey v England, Patricia, Emily on the Night of the Snow, Viktoriya in those four magical life-changing visits in the space of six months. 

I love loud pounding music. Muse Starlight. Even in the Scotsman standing looking up at the screen I loved hearing the loud pounding music from behind me, Pink Who Knew. Miami Vice suddenly starts with loud pounding music in a club & a girl poledancing.*********I think after all it might be possible to achieve a balanced lifestyle for myself. Paying my rent, and allowing myself one night out a week, so I can still get to wallow in the Libertinesesque/Hogarthian/Rabelaisian/Rake’s Progress life, and still seriously paying off my cards so I can get to Berlin or Vienna a couple of times a year.

It is always hard to drink, go to cinema, then start drinking again. I was tired & run down yesterday & still quite enjoyed Zoe and Jane and Leah, how much better if I am sober and excited? The Francis Bacon Gilded Gutter Lily/Ernest Dowson/Frank Wedekind/Oscar Wilde Feasting With Panthers/Vincent Van Gogh Hour of the Flesh life. Kanye West Number One. Kelis Bossy. Junior Senior Get to Know you better. On my last few trips I have been hoping to get lucky and have a great time on just a very small budget with just a very small outlay & that is why I got so little back. You have to speculate to accumulate. I had so little starting capital to gamble with so I was only ever going to get little back. You have to gamble big if you are going to gamble at all. I should have gone with Alla & Olga and to hell with it. I should have gone with Clarisse & to hell with it. What memories that would have been! Justin Sexyback. Sugababes Red Dress. After all, the great thing about the Bell is that it can cost as little as £5. One pint and two girls and then push off. Sunset Strip is a minimum £19 to start off with. How I always remember Munich girl dancing to Global DJs. That is why I travel. I will go back to Vienna, I will go back to Munich. I will owe £6000 or £7000. So what? For those memories. Habit encrusts itself to us, like barnacles. Every few years one finally makes the effort to scrape all the barnacles off, and uncover the shiny ship’s hulll underneath, as if new. Such I have just done.

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. 

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.

Oh God how could I ever have considered giving up my lovely little flat? (13th August 2006)

Oh God how could I ever have considered giving up my lovely little flat? It is so lovely to come back to at night. All afternoon, and tonight, travelling to Charing Cross I felt so nervous. It was good, it felt exciting, like being in Vienna or Berlin or Brussels at night. Everything was pitch back, windy and rainy and storm-tossed. It felt like winter. It felt like how nervous I felt going out in Vienna at night to look for the peep show place, or how nervous I felt going to look for Stuttgarter Platz in Berlin the first time, or going into Atlantic City every time. I love that nervousness! That excitement! Sitting with my first pint in the Calcutta I still felt it. I felt I was sitting in the Brussels Pullman bar prior to heading up to Empire and Gare du Nord. Or sitting in the Dorint preparing to go out to Pour Platin or Manhattan. It was so exciting. By the second pint the excitement had been replaced by deadness, and I could not recapture the nervousness. By the third pint it had started to turn to the nihilism which can be as exciting as the nervousness but I did not push it to a fourth pint. I think three will be my rule for these Calcutta nightcaps. Oh God I cannot wait to get back to Vienna and the Dorint, and I cannot wait to get back to Munich and Atlantic City. But first I think must come Berlin for Violeta Urmana and the Mort de Cleopatra. That would be special. Any money I save let me use it on Alla & Olga and Erica first. On the 87 bus home someone started playing the Hot Club de France at full blast! It was fantastic. Riding along listening to Stephane Grapelli and Django Reinhardt. Every bus should sound like this at 11 o'clock at night.

******Low rumble of thunder. To think I was thinking I could sit out on my balcony once summer comes, and now it is black & rainy & I am turning my heating back on, and it is only 13th August! John Dilys Cooper "turns everything into an epiphany". I had an epiphany last night. Getting the bus to Charing Cross feeling so nervous, and arriving there in the pitch black, and it was so windy & stormy, and I sat in the Calcutta with my first pint feeling so strongly what it would be like at this same 930PM at night to be sitting in the bar of the Brussels Radisson SAS, or the Ibis Cafe Belge, or the Dorint Wien, or the Berlin Plaza, nervously drinking enough so I was ready to go out looking for Tallulah or Esmeralda. Tingle-Tangle. That feeling in the knot of your stomach. Those butterflies. That excitement, that nervousness. On the bus, around Parliament Square, I was thinking this was how nervous I felt when I went to get that tram in Wien, or how nervous I feel when I leave the Intercity at night to cross Bayerstraße & round corner of Schiller, my heart suddenly starts beating so fast, my breathing comes so quick, my blood pumps around me so quick, as I am sure everybody knows what I am up to, but they cannot stop me, and I am going to do it anyway. A real epiphany last night, and again on Wednesday, when everything reminded me of Wien Westbhanhof. We grow beautiful out of our longing. The greatest highs of my life have been those midnight trams in Vienna around the Gurtel to get to ML Revue, or those walks from the Intercity to Atlantic City, or those walks from the Berlin Plaza to the Berlin Erotic Centre or Sarah Young, or that midnight tram from the Gare du Midi up to the Gare du Nord and trying again to find the right exit. Lust suddenly suffuses my whole body. I become so nervous and so excited. In Europe you have dirty experiences. The ONLY time I get close to that in London is when I go to Sunset Cinema, and some man comes in with a girl, and that is so exciting, and then when I am ready, I leave there with my swollen cock rolling in my trousers from side to side like a ship in a storm, just around the corner to Demi or to Pamela. That always feels so dirty. Once September comes I will allow myself this again. As the nights get dark so early. Save my money for October, once the clocks go back! That is why I call November 1st Volcanic Night! I do not think I find Simon Boccanegra interesting enough as an opera to go all the way to Hamburg to see Prokina in it. I'd rather spend all that money the train would cost on sex in Berlin. I would like to see Urmana in the Mort de Cleopatra though. What to do, Munich & Vienna first, or Brussels & Berlin? NOTHING THAT HAPPENS AT WORK CAN POSSIBLY AFFECT ME. I LIVE FOR WRITING AND FOR TRAVELLING. I AM LIKE A GHOST AT WORK. THUNDER! A dirty, black, thundery, raining evening.

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.

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.

The sexiest encounters of my life were with girls at classical music concerts (4th August 2006)

The sexiest encounters of my life were with girls at classical music concerts, while I was sitting in the back row---the red scallop neck girl at the Barbican, little brown bob who sat opposite me in the Barbican lobby, black fur coat at the Wigmore, the grey skirt lush in the Wigmore lobby. The erections I have got in art galleries! Especially the Brussels Museum of Modern Art and the Wiertz Museum---I have got to go back to Brussels this autumn! To the Modern Art [gone, waiting for it to be put back in place], the Wiertz, the Cathedral, the Gare du Midi Pullman bar [gone], it is such a morbidly erotic place, even before I get up to Empire and the Gare du Nord. I got great erections in Antwerp, too. And Munich Neue Pinakothek. Oh how erotic it is to be there during the day, going to the New Pin and Lamm's [gone], knowing it is just preparation for what I am going to do later---cross Bayerstraße and round the corner of Schillerstraße and disappear into the White Coffin [Atlantic City]. My heroes are Walter Benjamin, Karl Kraus, Friedrich Nietzsche, Karl Marx. I live every day of my life now as if I am on holiday, just drinking and eating and w-----g. The gorgeous beer in the Calcutta, the gorgeous fish & chips in Dionysus [gone], the gorgeous KFC in Leicester Square. The gorgeous tuna & mayo rolls in Charing Cross Station. When in Berlin I live for the knesepfannes [gone] in my hotel bar and the ham & eggs rolls in Thobens at Berlin Zoo station. In Vienna it is the alt wiener rostbratens in my hotel bar; I no longer go to Wegenstein's after the staff attacked me. I went back once but it is always so empty there, in contrast to the warmth & conviviality of Lamm's in Munich. I think I almost go to Munich solely so I can eat in Lamm's & have a glass of their ice cold Augustiner beer. I go to Berlin solely so I can eat the knesepfannes in my hotel & the Zoo Thobens rolls. Oh I so much want to go back to Munich! But where to stay---the Regent which I love for its bar, or the Intercity for its ease? I go to Vienna solely for the cold Zipfers served by the white shirted girls in the Dorint bar before I commence my afternoon of sightseeing, which usually means St Stephen's Cathedral, the Pummerin bell made out of Turkish cannons left behind after the Siege of Vienna, the Butterfly House, the KHM, the Belvedere and the Leopold. Always the same places. Sometimes I will mix in a few Third Man sites, like the Am Hof, and the steps where Harry Lime stood when the cat gave him away and we see him for the first time. I will not go into the sewers again. 

After Lamm’s [gone] what else is there to do for me in Munich, apart from struggling to the New Pin & trying to make it back to the Intercity before I explode? Nothing. Really. Lamm’s is the be all and end all of my every day in Munich. At nights, the White Coffin [Atlantic City] becomes the be all and end all but I think even that has finished for me now, as it has become just full of memories which the here and now increasingly struggles to live up to. The more fantastic memories you have built up in a place, or exquisitely painful ones, the more blood you have left on the tracks, the harder it is to get the same thrill out of the place & the more disappointing it becomes. It becomes a law of diminishing returns. There is a rising arc of your first few visits when it gets better & better, then you reach the zenith, then level off, then the arc inexorably descends, and every trip becomes increasingly distressingly flat and uneventful. The whores get more flat-chested and unattractive every time you go. In Berlin, Yulia, Riccarda, Iga, Diana, gone forever. Maybe they were always poor but the excitement of going somewhere new made them seem more sexy and alluring than they really were. The more you return the more you tend to see the same women in the cold light of day, as it were, and you realise they weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

Oh god I miss Munich so much! (23rd July 2006)

Oh god I miss Munich so much! "The area around the Intercity hotel is slightly seedy". Oh god I miss Schillerstraße and Goethestraße at nights! All those neon lights! I miss walking back into the Atlantic City, and Sexyland even! Lamm's! Oh god I miss Berlin Plaza so much! That Berliner Pils and knesepfanne! That nighttime walk to Sarah Young and Berlin Erotic Centre, and on to Mon Cheri and Golden Gate and Monte Carlo! Or to Ciro! Oh god I miss the Wien Dorint so much! That night time trawl of the Gurtel, Manhattan and Pour Platin! Those white-shirted Dorint girls! Seriously, where am I going to find my sugar daddy to make this possible? A better job---pah! If I moved to ----- for £19.000 I would be working hard all year just to reduce my credit card debt from £6,000 to £4,000, big deal! I need a sudden injection of cash! If Lydia lent me £5,000??? It would be a mad adventure. I dread doing it & getting trapped, but I would be inspired to do it because I know it would free me to get back to Munich & Berlin & Vienna. 

Oh how I miss sitting in the Café Belge of the Ibis Brussels! Always seemed to meet single women there, not only --! Watching the trams before heading up to Gare du Nord, or Empire. How I miss the Pullman! Those lovely large rooms, especially the corner one that bends right round, or the one with the window in the deep archway. Lydia is a crazy girl & she wants me to be crazier than her. She has nothing to lose; I everything. 

Oh god I cannot wait till I can get back to the Calcutta on Wednesday! And then back to the Scotsman! Two places where you can stay for hours on your own & feel completely comfortable. Unlike the Lemon Tree, unfortunately, where I never feel comfortable. I cannot wait to get back to the cinema again, then on to Demi or Pamela.

Dorothy Anstruther she’s a Belgian dancer living in London (26th Dec 2006)

Dorothy Anstruther she’s a Belgian dancer living in London—the girl in the Country Girl video!!!! ********* How fantastic those porn films were in Munich Inter City! The Italian ones. There is such a special feeling when I go to Munich. Knowing Italy is just the other side of the Alps. Those memories from Munich, and Vienna, and Berlin, are the best of my life. There is a soft lubriciousness about Munich. I have to go back. 

CHECK EUROPEAN TRAIN TIMES BEFORE BOOKING TICKETS, or deciding whether to stay in Munich Sunday or get train back to Brussels. So I cannot get it out & have sex in Munich; but did I enjoy it with Pamela or Francesca? with Alla? with Margareta? I can use the kabins. I realise I can only enjoy music when I am drinking & when it is turned up full deafening volume. No I cannot have sex in Munich, but the greatest nights of my life have come there, Patricia in Atlantic City let me come on her breasts in séparée, —– —- fell in love with me, Susi & Irina, Emily in Femina let me come on her breasts in séparée, Viktoriya, Martina massive breasts in Nuremberg Pils bar. It only works if you totally lose yourself in it—music. Drink, sex. 

Perfect in Brussels to go from hotel, really drunk, to California to get turned on & sober, then back to Empire ready to feel something.

There seemed to be a party going on in the Sunset Cinema bar (20th Dec 2006)

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It is sad (25th Nov 2006)

It is sad. I had SO many great nights in Munich, but it is really hard to imagine how I could have another one. The Ukrainians have clamped everything down. Nice to look for Martina again in Pils? 

Munich seems rather sad & finished now? But to check in to the Inter City again! To go back to Lamm’s! To go out at night back across Bayerstraße to Atlantic City! To get that train to Nuremberg, Pils Bar, and Caribic on a Saturday night! Where is the best place for sex? Berlin, of course. How fantastic to go from Mon Cheri, to Golden Gate, to Monte Carlo, looking for the girl with big breasts, then taking her into the James Pryde bedroom or the séparée to f–k her. Save all my money for Berlin, and for Olga & Alla, and Ciro. That will be January 11th-14th. 

How fantastic to drink in Munich in Intercity, Lamm’s], Atlantic City at night. How fantastic to drink in Brussels in the Ibis or Radisson, then the Pullman bar, then the Metropole, before Empire at night. How fantastic to drink in Berlin in Berlin Plaza, then Café Zoo, Irish Bar beneath the old Romanisches Café, then the clubs at night. Why not go straight to Berlin this week???? Fuck La Traviata in January. Yes, Berlin. For Alte National Gallery, Dom, drinking in Café Zoo, The Oscar Wilde fish & chips, egg & ham rolls in Thobens, back to hotel to sleep, down to Berlin Plaza Knese at night for pfanne & pils, then out to Stutti or Ciro at night. So I fly? Yes. Berlin THIS WEEK!

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.

“We drank hard and talked about what Debord, who drank persistently and prodigiously, had written about alcohol" (15th Sept 2006)

“We drank hard and talked about what Debord, who drank persistently and prodigiously, had written about alcohol. 'I admire Debord as a perfect and dedicated drinker.' We talked about how, in the early years of his career as a drinker, Debord was always in pursuit of or just arriving at a perfect point of intoxication which, unlike paid labour or any other servile activity, would reveal ‘the true taste of the passage of time’. Drinking was a beautiful poetic game, with its rules and protocols. Debord devoted pages to describing this notion.”
Irina suddenly leaned over to me and said to me “I’m sorry, you’re a nice guy, but you drink too much” before giving me the ultimate private dance. I said to Viktoriya “You hate me?” and she exploded back with real venom “Yes. Because you’re always drunk.”

If I’m excited and inspired by doing some good writing & thinking I do like to go out & enjoy the Scotsman on a Saturday (9th Sept 2006)

If I’m excited, and inspired by doing some good writing & thinking, I do like to go out & enjoy the Scotsman on a Saturday. That is the secret. I don’t just earn it by saving money, I earn it by doing some great writing—then I deserve it & feel I deserve it.
I am a great believer that you carry the weather with you. If you travel with a spark, a dancing flame inside you, you will have a great time. If you travel unhappy, and in a black place, weighed down by worries and debts, you will have a sad time. I cannot say the well in Munich has run dry; probably it is my well that has run dry. When my well fills up again, by making myself happier, ridding myself of obsessions, financial worries, anxieties, paranoid depressions, I will find Munich’s well is full to over-brimming again, "stars filling the throat to the crop", as it was absolutely full to over-brimming when I met Susi, Irina on the night of Turkey v England, Patricia, Emily on the Night of the Snow, Viktoriya in those four magical life-changing visits in the space of six months. I love loud pounding music. Muse Starlight. Even in the Scotsman standing looking up at the screen I loved hearing the loud pounding music from behind me, Pink Who Knew. The start of Miami Vice suddenly starts with loud pounding music in a club & a girl pole-dancing.

I love looking at stars in the black sky and colourful gassy nebulas, as it reminds me of the old E ships idea. Elric ships in space. Pope in his velvet lined spaceship. On the 91 to King’s Cross a brunette girl vaguely Canadian-looking came & instead of sitting on empty seats beside me, sat on the seat facing me, reading a book, so I could get get a look at the deep cleavage under brown jacket, beautiful globes visible & she knew I was looking. Then I knew I DID want Bell. Evanescence. You never call me when you’re sober. Jokeren Gravol. DAD Scare Yourself. Gnarls Barkley Smiley Faces. Oh I’ve just remembered those two Brazilians running for 87 yesterday, blonde & brunette. The brunette in white T and blue jeans over most incredible bubble butt bulging all over the place though she was really slim. Brazilians have got the best butts. Bloodhound Gang Uhn Tiss. Robbie Rudebox. Zero 7 Throw It All Away. Nellie Furtado Maneater.

I think after all it might be possible to achieve a balanced lifestyle for myself. Paying my rent, and allowing myself one night out a week, so I can still get to wallow in the Libertinesesque/Hogarthian/Rabelaisian/Rake’s Progress life, and still seriously paying off my cards so I can get to Berlin or Vienna a couple of times a year.

It is always hard to drink, go to cinema, then start drinking again. I was tired & run down yesterday & still quite enjoyed Zoe and Jane and Leah, how much better if I am sober and excited? The Francis Bacon Gilded Gutter Lily/Ernest Dowson/Frank Wedekind/Oscar Wilde Feasting With Panthers/Vincent Van Gogh Hour of the Flesh life. Kanye West Number One. Kelis Bossy. Junior Senior Get to Know you better. On my last few trips I have been hoping to get lucky and have a great time on just a very small budget with just a very small outlay & that is why I got so little back. You have to speculate to accumulate. I had so little starting capital to gamble with so I was only ever going to get little back. You have to gamble big if you are going to gamble at all. I should have gone with Alla & Olga and to hell with it. I should have gone with Clarisse & to hell with it. What memories that would have been! Justin Sexyback. Sugababes Red Dress. After all, the great thing about the Bell is that it can cost as little as £5. One pint and two girls and then push off. Cotton Club is a minimum £19 to start off with. How I always remember Masha dancing to Global DJs. That is why I travel. I will go back to Vienna, I will go back to Munich. I will owe £6000 or £7000. So what? For those memories. Habit encrusts itself to us, like barnacles. Every few years one finally makes the effort to scrape all the barnacles off, and uncover the shiny ship’s hull underneath, as if new. Such I have just done.

How do I square the circle and get back to Munich again? Get back to Vienna again? (24th August 2006)

How do I square the circle and get back to Munich again? Get back to Vienna again? Seeing that Heidi Klum picture makes me think of it. Maybe that was my high moment in Munich, my City in the Autumn Stars moment, those three visits from October to January 2004–so long ago–and in Munich they will never come again. My high moment at the Bell was those nights when I used to see Sylvia all the time and at the Bell will probably never come again. Those high nights I spent at Carnival will never come again. You worry all your high moments are in the past. Certainly my last six or seven foreign trips have been dull, low-key, disillusioning affairs. It does seem, though, that all my high times come while travelling–apart from Sylvia. It is hard to escape that fact. That is why I live for travelling. And even during those last low, dull trips there were stand out moments, such as Clarisse in Brussels, Erika in Berlin. Yesterday was Sleeping Beauty is a Junkie day from 1999. Even last time in Berlin, leaving out the one night I spent there to see Prokina in Onegin & then Katarina & The Wild Hunt at the BEC, there was Alla & Olga, and Erika at Ciro, all on my last night. Being in love deadens all my high moments. All those months longing for Florence this year, and all those months longing for Olga before that. High times can only come when you are not longing for anyone, are free, and refreshed, and priapic.

Counting backwards, I think March 2005 was my last really high time, with Diana in snowy Berlin, in that claustrophobic stuffy grandeur of the Charlies Rennie Mackintosh bedroom. How vividly I remember coming out of BEC into the falling snow, my cock rolling in my trousers, to go back to Diana. At the time, I felt even that visit was not working. Before that in February was a similarly failed trip to Vienna (even though there was Maria and Harrieta), in January the failed trip to Munich (even though there was pink top blonde), before that the ruinous £2,000 Interrail trip to Munich and Berlin (even though I met Martina in Nuremberg, and Riccarda and Iga again), before that the cryingly sad reunion with Riccarda the White Angel of Death in Berlin (even though I discovered the Libertines), before that the devastating heartbreak of Viktoriya (after inital excitement of Patricia, Susi and Irina). Before that were the three great Rubicon-crossing Berlin trips, where I met Iga, Riccarda and Yulia, the last trips that really worked, and before that were the three Munich trips. Since that last good moment with Diana in March 05, there was the horrible one night in Munich for Poppea and Viktoriya, the failed attempt to see Von Weth in Lulu in Berlin, then Antwerp/Brussels Clarisse, Frankfurt Katerina, Berlin Erika and that last empty visit to Munich. By this time my debt had deadened everything,. There is no point going to these places where the Esmeraldas and Tallulahs are waiting for you, unless you can splash the cash. You are wasting your time and their time otherwise. You are depressed before you step through the door.

Florence has ruined the Bell for me, so it feels lovely to give it up. So it can be seen that when I fell in love with Florence was the moment the Bell was destroyed for me, and all those great nights with Sylvia were brought to an end. And when I fell in love with Viktoriya was the moment Munich and Berlin were destroyed for me, all those great City in the Autumn Stars nights were brought to an end. Falling in love ruins everything. How sad I remember being on ALL those trips I mentioned above. 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, Erika, 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 pornographic 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!

When will I ever meet someone like Sylvia again? (18th August 2006)

When will I ever meet someone like Sylvia again? Maybe Caroline in Big Apple? Sylvia really was the sphinx. Will I really never see her again? I must ask Amanda one day. Now I can enjoy the eroticism of pulling into Brussels by train, before enjoying the showgirls of Empire. Then the eroticism of drawing into Munich at night by train before enjoying the showgirls of Atlantic City. Then the eroticism and intense nervousness of drawing into Nuremberg at night by train before enjoying the showgirls at Caribic. Then the eroticism of drawing into Vienna at night by train before enjoying the showgirls of Seilerstatte. It is silly to say Brussels is boring or Munich is boring, because I will be awake all night at the showgirl places, only going home at 3 or 4 in the morning,not getting up until midday, going out 2pmish for a few drinks, sleeping it off, before going out again at night. I will live a completely nocturnal existence in those places anyway.

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.