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. 

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.

I really don’t care about looking for jobs now (23rd April 2006)

I really don’t care about looking for jobs now. I will never find a better job than this. All I want now is to lose myself in classical music. Just accept this will take a long while to get over. You are heading for ruin. Concentrate on the positives. Concentrate on writing with blue hands in cold stoveless rooms like Nietzsche, heading to the cold icy air of the mountains, where the air is thinner & there are less people. I always want to get to where there are less people. I seem to have lost interest in art museums, in classical music concerts. I am just lost in an emptiness. All there is is drinking. This coming week I will devote to writing, staying up all night, into the early hours of the morning. Funny how sweet & lovely to me the new brown top barmaid was; she was gorgeous to me. Jane was lovely to me. Even though my life is getting better year on year, there is always a period each year when I go into real psychological darkness & desperate straits. 

“But despite his literary success, Crane was a profoundly tormented man. Poetry sustained him in a life that otherwise teetered on the brink of collapse. When he wasn’t writing, he spent much of his time engaged in fleeting homosexual encounters and alcohol binges. In 1932, three years after meeting Lorca, Crane committed suicide by leaping from a ship into the Caribbean”. 

“Crane tends to be labelled as American poetry’s answer to both Rimbaud and Keats. Like the young Rimbaud he believed a poet’s vision derived from systematic deregulation of the senses; many of his poems were written in an alcohol-induced frenzy while listening to the same song on his Victrola over and over again, while his tireless, often dangerous cruising of the Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Hoboken waterfronts – occasionally under the pseudonym Mike Drayton, in honour of the Elizabethan poet – shocked more conservative friends such as Allen Tate and Yvor Winters……..By the time he arrived in Mexico in 1931 he was grey-haired, puffy-featured, and subject to hallucinations, delirium tremens, and corrosive self-disgust. He wrote only one poem there, the sublime “The Broken Tower”, in which he acknowledged his inability to do more than merely “trace the visionary company of love”, or hold for longer than “an instant in the wind / each desperate choice”. A month after completing it in late March of 1932, Crane decided he had no choices left at all.”

I am so tired & jaded of London now (23rd Nov 2006)

I am so tired & jaded of London now. I must instead go & get drunk in Brussels & Berlin. Reacquaint myself with Karl Kraus, and F Nietzsche. 

All that matters is my bleak books, written in blood, with blue hands in cold stoveless rooms around Europe. My studies in solipsism, the visceral pleasure in detachment of an autistic person. Autismus. Lotta & Sophia. The Cold Icy Air of the Mountains. Casanova. 

I have moved beyond —–, & Olga, and am free of them. Now the travelling starts again. To write my books in Brussels, Berlin, Munich and Vienna. 

I will run up such a debt I will no longer be able to go out in London, will just pay all my money on my credit card repayments & interest. That is OK. I will go back to drinking in my mother’s house & the Calcutta, while listening to the songs that remind me of travel, until I can travel again.

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.

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.