There is nothing better than travelling around Europe to see my favourite opera singers [19th Sept 2006]

There is nothing better than travelling around Europe to see my favourite opera singers. While there enjoying the brothels and strip clubs and pubs as well. Travel seems the only point to life. To travel is to be held in suspension. As soon as you come to rest, everything stops and falls. You are just left waiting until you can travel again.  Between travels I will just drink and drink to make the time go faster.

I will go home today so I can get drunk while listening to music. That is all I do every day on my days off, get drunk. Just waiting for the time I can travel again. Thursday should be thundery, and Friday showers. The paper says we are heading for a period of high winds, torrential rain and abnormally high temperatures! Phnom Penh weather. It remains to be seen whether I can resist the lure of the illicit thrill during these atmospheric conditions. I do not want to go back to the Bell and Sunset Strip and Sunset Cinema and Demi and Pamela until I am also ready to travel. Even when I get September out of the way, there is still all of October, all of November, and all of December to get through! Can I really resist travelling in December? Maybe I will just pop to Brussels?  

I live for gambling, I live for saving my money in periods of abstinence just so I can blow it again on wicked women in London and Brussels and Vienna and Munich and Berlin. This boom and bust is what I live for. "What Rodin depicted in the Burghers was the birth of a specifically modern form of despair: an acceptance that there is no external source of redemption and the knowledge that one's life might not be capable of generating its own capacity for redemption. What solace is available in the face of this dilemma? One possibility is work, the unswerving devotion to a craft that so impressed Rilke. The other is the sexual promise offered by women. In his later years Rodin achieved a blissful combination of these possibilities, devoting hours and hours to making thousands of drawings of naked women, often in states of sexual rapture. 'People say I think too much about women,' he explained. 'Yet after all, what is there more important to think about?' In Milton--as in the Bible--the Fall comes after Adam has tasted Eve in all her tainted sensuality. This inverts the reality of the situation: that the lure of sex is one of the things that makes the fallen state not simply bearable but desirable. Wittingly or not, Milton provides a glimpse of a paradise that is endlessly regainable: 'Carnal desire inflaming, he on Eve/Began to cast lascivious eyes, she him/As wantonly repaid...' Rodin trained himself to draw without taking his eyes off the women who were happy to surrender themselves to him as he abandoned himself to his gaze, (William Rothenstein, to whom Rodin made the remark about the importance of women, recalls him 'caressing his models with his eyes, and sometimes too with his hands'.)" 

I abandon myself to my gaze. I have a deep attachment to Brussels, Munich, Vienna and Berlin. I used to spend all my spare money in the Bell and Sunset Strip and Soho. Now I save it all for travelling in December and January. I can moan about all the money I have wasted on sex and strippers over the past few years, but isn't that the point of life?!!!! There is nothing I would rather do with my money. I just need to control it in London so I can also enjoy the womanly delights of Berlin and Brussels and Vienna and Munich. 

The fact that I have paid £600 off my Barclaycard in the space of a month shows what is possible [11th Sept 2006]

The fact that I have paid £600 off my Barclaycard in the space of a month shows what is possible. I don’t think I am going to go to Vienna in December. I think I would rather keep waiting and keep saving. So when I do travel I will have a real war chest to travel with. I was thinking in the Calcutta on Thursday that there is nothing worth spending money on except sex. If it is a choice between seeing Volver or A Scanner Darkly, or going to see a girl take her knickers off to music, then there can only be one winner. You see people who go on beach holidays, or Amalfi, and I think how bored I would be. The only holiday that means anything is in red light districts. To meet new strippers and new Esmeraldas. What is wrong with running a high debt? We will see how high my Virgin interest is when that hits in October. 

In McDonald’s most beautiful gorgeous voluptuous brunette girl, maybe 18 or 19, skin tight black top over rolls of fat and big fat huge tits, thick yellow snakeskin belt, blue jeans over fat arse, pretty pretty face, little snub nose. I could not take my eyes off her & she knew it as she finally shot me a glance as I stepped forward to order. 

Nothing in the city matters except sex, the buying and selling of it, young women stripping for you, young women lying back on the bed and opening their legs for you, men all with their cocks out in a dark porn cinema. This is the reality of my life. Vienna is still a mystery to me. With three consecutive visits to Brussels, then three to Munich, then three to Berlin, I felt I cracked the nut of all those places. I still have not achieved that with Vienna. Viennese Eroticism is very important to me. Primitive London. I am very intellectual yet I live very primitively, my animal instincts always winning out over my cerebral ones. So much drink has sozzled my brain that I doubt I have any cerebral instincts left at all. What an animal I was with Anya at the stag party; how impressed Sylvia seemed to be & so much more warm and friendly to me than she had ever been before. When people write about my life 50 years from now, they will have to write about the Calcutta, the Flying Scotsman, Sunset Strip and Carnival. About Astral, Soho Cinema, and Sunset Cinema. About Atlantic City. About Stutti Frutti, Mon Cheri, Golden Gate, Monte Carlo and Ciro.

If I do not travel to Vienna and Berlin in December and the New Year I will have no chance to meet a new Irina or Susi, Patricia or Viktoriya. Things happen when you travel. In Brussels I met Clarisse. In Frankfurt Katerina. In Berlin Erica. It is important to keep exploring. I live in a kind of Francis Bacon London. I live in the gutter like him. My writing is visceral and from the guts, full of pinks and reds and purples, like his paintings. I too am fascinated by a Pope. I am visceral and fascinated and turned on by my naked self like Egon Schiele. Do not apologise for this. Exult in it. I am priapic and I will just do it more than ever. I am saving money by not doing it so much just so I can do it more. I am going to Vienna at Christmas to fuck a couple of Viennese whores. In strip clubs every night is like Sylvester's Eve; or Walpurgisnacht. The more bawdy and raucous the better; that is why I like the Bell on Saturday nights. In London all the strip pubs are packed with men; again I ask the question, where do all the men go in Berlin? In Vienna? In Brussels?

Yes it is true I am travelling to Vienna for sex and I have always travelled for sex but by chance along the way I have also discovered so many things that I would not have discovered otherwise [19th August 2006]

Yes, it is true I am travelling to Vienna for sex, and I have always travelled for sex, but by chance along the way I have also discovered so many things that I would not have discovered otherwise--the Libertines, Elena Prokina, Heidi Klum on the billboard. You always find things while looking for something else. While looking for Susi I met Patricia & Bella Rosa. While looking for Patricia I met Emily. While looking for Viktoriya I met Martina. While looking for Riccarda I met Diana. The Libertines and Elena Prokina were complete chance discoveries that I would not have made if I had not been in Berlin and Brussels respectively, and they are now two of the most important things in my life. I am going to Vienna to see the Maria Callas exhibition but no doubt I will find something else instead. I always find something different to what it was I thought I was looking for. But if I had not set out looking for that thing, I would not have found the other thing. This is becoming the law of my life. I suppose if I go now expecting to meet some other thing I will find nothing but the original thing. Life is a see-saw. As soon as you think you have worked out its hidden laws and mechanisms, they swing back the other way and become the opposite. It is more than anything travelling, though, that keeps them swinging & keeps giving you glimpses into their internal workings, like looking inside a watch. As Kenneth Williams wrote, none of his trips to Tangier were ever what he could call truly successful, but they were important in that they kept the pendulum swinging. Ernest Shackleton kept going back South, even though none of his expeditions ever had any clear aim. It was enough to be heading South again. There is something in my soul that means it is enough to be just heading South again, and South in my case meaning my four Stations of the Cross, my four Cities in the Autumn Stars, Brussels, Munich, Vienna and Berlin, with occasional forays as far as Venice or Budapest or Oslo. I have almost forgotten what it is like to sleep at night. I just lie there and stare at the ceiling and have to give up. I love to be awake all night reading or writing while the world is quiet. Days are noisy and full of people, so it is a pleasure to sleep through them. It is cheaper that way, too. This "loan"  I have taken out of £6,000 is vital to pay for my travels which gives me my vital observations which go to form my books. You have to speculate to accumulate. To dare is to do.

I have got £13,500 credit and I owe £5,900. With this Vienna holiday that will increase temporarily but so what? [18th August 2006]

I have got £13,500 credit and I owe £5,900. With this Vienna holiday that will increase temporarily, but so what? It is just like taking out a loan. I have taken out a £5,900 loan which I will pay back when I come back from Vienna. And with this loan I am doing amazing, extraordinary things. Burning bright like a firefly. You have to push yourself to the edge. It is only there that you can observe things & record your observations. I am excited about going to work from now, because my journey to Vienna has already started. Remember how I always used to enjoy going to work because it was just getting me through the two or three weeks till I could get back to Munich again, or get back to Berlin again, or get back to Vienna again? Am I really spending hundreds of pounds going all the way to Vienna just to have sex? The sex with the Vienna and Berlin whores is more expensive but it is better. They will do anything. Remember how Yulia, Riccarda, Maria, Diana, did absolutely everything? You do not get that in Soho. Once you have paid your 100 euros you do get an absolutely mindblowing experience. Now watching the Alizee J'en ai Marre video I know why I travel. If I had never travelled I would never have seen that video. If I had not gone to Berlin and bought the Observer that Sunday in the Café am Zoo I would never have discovered the Libertines. If I had not gone back to Brussels I would never have discovered Elena Prokina. Travel enriches you so much. Just as the flat costs me a lot of money but it would be a false economy to give it up, so travelling costs me a lot of money but it too would be a false economy to give it up. That night coming away from Katarina & her Wild Stallions with such a huge erection in my trousers it still had not gone down by the time I crossed the leaf-carpeted Ku'damm. Meeting Clarisse in Brussels. On a wild goose chase to Nuremberg to look for Viktoriya I met the incredible Martina with the most enormous breasts I have ever seen in my life.

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.

I am pretty far gone aren’t I? (16th July 2006)

I am pretty far gone, aren’t I? Look at my face, the bags under my eyes. The way I cannot talk to people. I am like a drug addict. I have disappeared so far inside myself. It is almost impossible for me to be in a room with other people. I am like a wild child. No wonder people often think I am on drugs. I am a revolutionary at work. I am carrying out a revolution. A subversive one. A Situationist revolution. I am carrying out a Situationist revolution against the whole of society around me.

It is fantastic to be in a pornographic cinema when a girl comes in. Of course I will keep going to Sunset Cinema after the Bell, prior to Demi. Sex, sordid, sleazy sex, illicit thrills, Godzilla sex, vampire sex, is what I live for. Companionship is not possible, for I am a dead man, a ghost.

My books are my revolutionary texts—AUTISMUS, LOTTA, THE COLD ICY AIR OF THE MOUNTAINS, and CASANOVA (LOST WANDERINGS).

This is Fu Manchu weather (5th July 2006)

This is Fu Manchu weather. Black, steamy, hot and humid, but raining all the time. A permanent mist of rain in the hot, steamy conditions. It is like being in Phnom Penh. This is Cambodia weather. Two in the Calcutta with white shirt Katerina with no eye contact. Sylvie was first on in Sunset followed by Jolanda. Nina was next. She is so much like Melani, but Melani is Nina x100. Nina does not turn me on though she is so beautiful. Also there Angelina, and doing the middle shift, Sandra. A quiet small brunette but she was so sexy! She made eye contact with me a lot & really turned me on. I left about 5 because it is so empty on early shift I feel uncomfortable. 

At the Scotsman was ——. After dancing she marched straight to back & sat down with me again. I bought her another Red Bull. She was so sexy in little red tartan bra & knickers only. Drinking so much so quickly on empty stomach I was feeling randier than normal, and when she left to collect, & asked me to keep her drink safe for her, I stroked her bum and had a good feel of it. She looked at me in mock shock but she was so sexy on stage. While she was dancing however, a huge voluptuous red haired girl came in with two blokes to talk to Tina. They exchanged numbers & then she came & sat where —— had been sitting, so I could get a good side on look at her. Those tits are the most massive I have ever seen in my life. Her arse was practically hanging out of her jeans & that was massive as well. She glanced at me a few times. If she ever danced there I would die with pleasure. It would be the greatest striptease I have ever seen in my life. Knocking even fat-bottomed silver-dressed girl at Carnival into the shade. They were like zeppelins. Looking past her, —— suddenly seemed so ridiculously small. —— came back for her drink & found the girl there & was then in animated conversation with her & they exchanged numbers as well. After that —— came & had a drink with another man sitting at the side bar in front of me. After collecting —— sidled up to me again, whispering "a drink? Vodka & coke". After she finished I bought it for her & she came & collected in by the gents but just walked off with it & stood talking to other men with my drink in her hands!

Vicki was quite friendly, not scowling at least. Stella smiled hello as she passed me by the gents, but I don’t think I stayed long enough to see her dance, or Kelly (Enlgish). 

I went back to look for Francesca but she was busy, so I went back to Sunset for Lana & Nikita, the end of Elektra, and one more from Sandra before she left at 9. I watched most of the France v Portugal second half then went to Sunset Cinema. The films were great. Magma Swing Party, Nympho Nurses Naughty, and Tittenalarm 17—all German films!—plus Fresh Meat 18. I thought I was turned on enough so I went back to Francesca. She lived up to her description. Her breasts are sensational. She is pretty enough as well. For an extra £5 I got her to turn over but still could not come. She offered a hand job AND TOOK THE CONDOM OFF TO GIVE IT! It is true, she lets you come over her tits just like that. Still I could not come, so I apologised & kissed her goodbye. She works Tuesday to Saturday but only to 10PM. I will for sure go back many times. 

I went back to the cinema again for more of the great films. Upstairs was bald bloke with pretty brunette girl from last week but they do not seem to do much. This time I was ready to explode, & though I wanted to carry on watching the films, I made my way to Demi, but another girl was there, Savannah. She was pretty but £30. I was tempted but she walked off angrily, so her attitude turned me off though her body was great. I went back to Pamela. It was so nice sucking her tits and the edge of her nipples at least. I could not stop sucking and love biting her. For £25 she turned over & I came very nicely again. I made her lay with me for just a couple of minutes, but could not stop laughing for some reason. She did not stay with me as I got dressed this time. I was too drunk to ask her anything. I came home after that. There was a sexy brown ponytail girl stood behind me at bus stop then she came & sat in the corner seat just beneath me, in little pink vest & I could not help keep looking down at her cleavage & her face, and she knew I was looking & I think liked it. She got off Wandsworth Road just before me. Sitting in back seat opposite me our knees touching was most beautiful blonde in long skirt, jacket over little green top, with nice big tits & cleavage on show. I grabbed a few ogles & she was so beautiful. On the next corner seat was the purple blouse girl from before! In brown leather jacket, low cut shirt with tops of breasts visible, and tight brown skirt. Red lips. She was so sexy. Sitting side on ready to get off she knew I was looking at her so much. All in all, a very sexy night. A night of a thousand breasts, and a dozen super-voluptuous vixens. Jolanda, redhead at the Scotsman, Francesca, Pamela, girls at bus stop & on bus. Sandra.

Ecstatic outpourings (1st July 2006)

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

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

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

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

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

I came all the way home Wednesday night to see Lilith (28th June 2006)

I came all the way home Wednesday night to see Lilith on my home PC to find she has unbanned me! She has let me back in but now I find I do not want to talk to her. I have lost interest in her. I didn’t get to Calcutta till 330 which meant I didn’t get to Sunset Strip till 420 again. 

I left before 7 back to Sunset Cinema. A couple of good films, Hot Chic and I Dream of Jenna. Despite six pints I was ready to explode again. Tried first door & blonde girl was there but busy so I went to Pamela and found some other girl but Renata was the maid! In blue jumper over those big breasts, she must have recognised me on camera because she was waiting for me. The girl kept smiling and saying “ahhh”, as I cuddled Renata and kissed her on cheek. She says she has stopped doing it, and “never again”. How weird! Will Renata now be Pamela’s maid!!??? I went back to blondie then, Luciana, half Swedish half Greek. Amazingly, she turned over without hesitation but only doggy style because down hurts. I managed to convince her to try and was gentle, mainly because I was so close to coming I had to keep stopping. It felt so good slowly sliding in and out of her so close to coming. She is friendly, nice smile. Home via Upper Crust and sexy Greek/Turkish looking black ponytail girl at bus stop in jacket over red T-shirt and dirty blue jeans. Off first stop in W Road. Packed bags & rushed home on last train.

I wake at 9 dreaming of fantastic whores (3rd June 2006)

I wake at 9 dreaming of fantastic whores. Clarisse in Brussels, Alla & Olga in Berlin, Martina in Nuremberg, the green swimsuit whore in Brussels, all of whom I did NOT spend money on. Because they would all have been 150-200 Euros, but my god what memories they would have been. Also Andrea the Greek in Soho who I should have spent more time with, and the Egyptian who I should have gone back to time and time again. For all the money I have spent on whores, there are so many I should have spent money on but for some bizarre reason did not. If I was a millionaire. It has been brought home to me tonight that I will never be able to go to those places I always dreamed of, the Greek Islands, Greece, Turkey, Malta, Sicily, and those fantastic huge-breasted soft spreading Mediterranean whores. I will never be able to do that tour of Italy and all those voluptuous over-ripe Italian women. All I care about is whores. I do not regret the flat, and would not give it up for the world, but it is hard to believe I will never be able to travel the world anymore, experiencing all those sexual pleasures. Where can I ever get money from?I have to get more money. In the meantime I must confine myself to London, and Pamela the large-breasted Swedish whore, Demi the black-haired Sicilian. I even think about going back to start f—— Lydia again. Somewhere, too, Andrea the Greek and the Egyptian may be hiding. You just have to knock on the right door on the right day, and they may have been there all along, all this time, without me realising it.

I wake up 245am thinking about my mother so much. Then I think about Pamela (2nd June 2006)

I wake up 245am thinking about my mother so much. Then I think about Pamela. Then I think—Oh those kabins of Berlin & Brussels & Munich! Love of mother, love of woman, love of sex. The three things seem to drive me mad fighting for pre-eminence. I would really like to see Duke Bluebeard and Erwartung tonight, and Phedre if not. Maybe this week has felt so empty because I was avoiding Pamela the one person I have feelings for (especially now that Melani has gone as well). Always head towards what you believe to be the most beautiful thing. Maybe I should try & get home by 12 midday so I can record the Strauss programme. Get the 405 train back but come back to the flat first so I am not drinking for too long before the opera. I want Pamela tonight. Sometimes I can drink so fast, and so easily. I am running so fast, so excited, on such a high. Last night I could not drink. The pint and then two halves went down so slowly. Nothing felt right. I could not stay awake at Ariodante. I was so uninspired. I WANT PAMELA.
You hurt yourself if you try to avoid the thing you have feelings for. Like when I planned to go to Oslo & Copenhagen, when all I really wanted was Viktoriya in Munich.
I always develop feelings for whores. Stupid, I know.
I hope I get really drunk tonight, on such a high, then get really turned on at the opera, and am bursting for Pamela by the time it ends. I want to go crazy tonight.
Why don't I start going to The Sherlock Holmes for one pint always BEFORE I go to the Calcutta? I need to do something new! A slight change of routine. I love my mother so much. What will I do without her?

Do I feel good about myself now? No (31st May 2006)

Do I feel good about myself now? No. Average films in the cinema, not completely mediocre. No girls there except the old one upstairs who lets everyone f— her one after the other. Got nice and hard though and knew I was ready for Demi. She looked fantastic in black widow’s weeds. Amazingly she turned over without complaint and from feeling nothing, I immediately started to come. I must insist Pamela turns over for me too. A KFC and a couple of tuna baguettes from Charing Cross Station on the way home. Nothing or no one else exciting. I missed the real substance of a night at the opera. Something to engage my brain and spirit. I got to Calcutta about 8 and saw I had missed Kelly and Zoe. I left after one. A low key night all round. I miss Lemon Tree barmaid—I cannot get her off of my mind. ****************Demi is like a black-haired Irina, with a bit of Famke Janssen thrown in. As she lay on her front, she kept her hand underneath her, and I almost got the feeling she was getting some pleasure out of it (remember that is the room Kimi said she was going to come). She was certainly happy enough to turn over for me. I only slept for about 2 hours or so. I feel not hungover, not sleepy, just longing for someone to be with me. Someone to hold and cuddle and stroke. I suppose I will go back to the Calcutta a lot once the World Cup starts. There is no better place to watch football. ARIODANTE tonight I suppose. *************I remember Demi the first time complimenting me on my toenails & then touching my cock “And that’s VERY good—if you didn’t drink!” Now she turned over so readily and put her hand underneath herself as I f—– her from behind.

I have got to pull myself together. But when have I ever been any different? (19th May 2006)

I have got to pull myself together. But when have I ever been any different? I go from one addictive behaviour to another. If I don't go to Black Hole of Calcutta, I go to Sunset and Sunset Cinema and Pamela; if I don’t do that I go to the ENO and ogle The Lemon Tree barmaids in the intervals. All my life has been lost to the grip of addictive & obsessive behaviour. Because I am lost. I need a secure, loving relationship with a partner. Who are the current contenders? Melani or Pamela. I love it when I am at my lowest, because then I can write most bleakly & most starkly. Then I can write in blood, in cold, stoveless rooms with blue hands. There is so much pain inside me. That sounds melodramatic but I do not know what else to say. I am a vessel brimming over with pain. I long to be able to talk to my mother. I long for Melani or Pamela. If I died tomorrow my mother would not know the first thing about me. I record the pain of my life. I record the loneliness of my life*******Oh, but I have such soft feelings for Melani. ************ Who are the women in my life now? Melani, the Lemon Tree barmaid, the bus stop girl, Pamela, Demi. ************ Like it or not, my relationships with whores are the most important of my life: Lydia, Iga, Riccarda, Viktoriya, Diana, Ana Maria, Lela, Pamela --- all had a massive impact on my life (and all had a's at the end of their name). Not to mention the dancers, --, Anya, Sylvia. It's only when you go too far, you suddenly find yourself on a cliff, teetering over a precipice, like the Justice Palace in Brussels. Wasn't the time I spent with Pamela worth every minute? As was all the time I spent with Ana, and Lela, and Iga & Riccarda & Diana & Viktoriya & Irina. That debt figure of 5,000 has a whole lot of pleasure & joy in it. ************ All this money I have spent in the past 2 weeks was absolutely vital. It could not have been otherwise. I had to see Melani both times, I had to go to 20 minutes with Pamela, and then to 30 minutes. I had to go to La Belle Helene and The Makropulos Case. So what am I to reproach myself for? I had to go with Demi. I had to go to The Lemon Tree. It was obsessive, but I enjoyed all of it. All of it was intense. The debt I am running and pushing is absolutely essential money well spent. As I always say, I could be struck by lightning tomorrow, and what use to me if I tightened my belt and lived like a monk for a year just to owe zero pounds on my credit cards? I could don my hairshirt for two years and never go out, reducing my credit card to zero, then released to enjoy myself again, step outside the house & be struck by a lightning bolt. What then the use of those two years saving money & being a good boy? Better to always run a debt & keep having amazing experiences.

I am proud of being anti-social. That is an important thing to say (11th May 2006)

I am proud of being anti-social. That is an important thing to say. I am proud of the way I am. I am different but that is OK. Massive-breasted girl in tight white blouse behind Lemon Tree bar. Brown bob, sexy, deep valley of cleavage. Her blouse is so tight the left nipple pokes through so clearly. How fucking sexy. I should drink here before going to whore & I would come every time. And as usual, so many huge-breasted girls in the pub as well. Another brown-haired girl in tight white blouse absolutely tearing open with the size of her breasts. Opera is about sex as I always said. The two tarty girls in red & black in La Belle Helene were so horny, and the huge-breasted chorus brunette in pink, and the other bouncy breast chorus girl in yellow bikini. The sexiest thing at ENO for years.

Ernest Dowson and Hart Crane would both get drunk every night and usually become violent & almost insane (24th April 2006)

Ernest Dowson and Hart Crane would both get drunk every night, and usually become violent & almost insane. I am driving myself almost to insanity every night at the Flying Scotsman. So where are my poems? Try to get into the habit of going to the Scotsman just once a week, and never again on a Saturday. If I go just once a week, then I can also go into Soho afterwards, for Sunset Strip, Sunset Cinema and maybe Pamela as well. The other two days off I will concentrate on staying and writing through the night.

I always love seeing Pamela. How good it felt to be in Sunset Cinema going up & down stairs between the two cinemas with my big swollen sore cock rolling inside my trousers. The sexual charge in those places is fantastic, and now summer is coming there may be more chance of finding some girls in there, too. All artists have to throw themselves into the gutter. Face it the greatest memories of my life have come in the Astral Cinema, the Soho Cinema, and the Sunset Cinema. All the incredible hot erotic memories from those places! I drink to derange my senses & go into the dream world. From there I can go back to Soho and the Sunset Cinema. Just imagine if the Flying Scotsman did private dances as well! Thank God they do not! There is something glorious in my drunken stupidities at the Scotsman. But please–once a week! Then I will allow myself Sunset Cinema as well. Like Hart Crane cruising the violent & dangerous Brooklyn, Manhattan & Hoboken shorefronts I cannot help but going back into Soho cinemas, despite the shame & ignominy & ruin it brings on myself–because the highs are so great & so exciting! 

“…All the couples part abruptly and pull up their trousers. That’s the flâneur, caught in the spotlight, blushing perhaps but with a wry smile playing around his lips. This, at least, is Edmund White’s kind of flâneur , cruising for sex while a few yards away tourists are paying through the nose for grim dinner-dancing experiences as they float along the Seine. When White lived in Paris between 1983 and 1998, he quickly found the best places to cruise. The Palais Royal and the Tuileries gardens (especially the gravel walkways by the Orangerie) sound like delightful places for outdoor sex, though why he thought the quay near Gare d’Austerlitz would be is, frankly, beyond me. He writes: “Most people, straight or gay, think that cruising is pathetic or sordid – but for me, at least, some of my happiest moments have been spent making love to a stranger beside dark, swiftly moving water below a glowing city.” Paris: city of light, but better, city of darkness and anonymous sex. White maintains, not very convincingly and rather half-heartedly, that cruising is an extension or application of the art of the flâneur. Those practitioners and theoreticians of the art, Walter Benjamin and Charles Baudelaire, wouldn’t have had much time for that idea, and nor should we. The whole point about a flâneur is that he or she is an aimless stroller. By contrast, a cruiser is utterly directed, as Schopenhauer might have put it, towards the extinction of his desire. The flâneur's desire is much less ardent, perhaps approaching non-existence, and thus resembles the disinterested appreciation that Kant argued was characteristic of aesthetic experience.”

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I like getting wilder & wilder. Audit Day today. The —— is going to be audited. I am going to get caned. Infernal’s From Paris to Berlin is No.4 in the charts! Reminding me so much of my travels. Also the Out of Touch, Out of Time video in the Calcutta. I love the excitement of travel. IN THE LAST TWO WEEKS I HAVE SPENT £422! I COULD HAVE GONE TO BERLIN INSTEAD & USED IT TO PAY FOR THE £165 BA FLIGHT & £225 BERLIN PLAZA FOR FOUR NIGHTS, STILL WITH BEER & KNESEPFANNE MONEY LEFT OVER! I COULD HAVE SEEN THE HEATHROW PON DE REPLAY WOMAN. THEY’VE SHOCKED US AND HELPED OUR UNDERSTANDING OF THE WORLD. 12 BOOKS THAT CHANGED THE WORLD. THE HMS BEAGLE LANDED ON THE GALAPAGOS 1835. I AM A GENTLEMAN SCIENTIST. A SYNOPSIS OF HIS LIFE’S WORK. PUBLISHING IT WAS LIKE CONFESSING TO A MURDER. I shrunk from all contact with the other children in nursery. I shrunk from all contact with other pupils at school. I shrink from all contact with people now as an adult. One of the great things about me is my blissful uncaredness: I couldn’t care what ——, or M—–, or G— think of me. I am in my private world, going there for my private reasons.

"You may think the Grand Tour is about politics, and culture and art---and you would be quite right. But it is also about gambling, drinking and sex. Particularly sex"

"You may think the Grand Tour is about politics, and culture, and art---and you would be quite right. But it is also about gambling, drinking, and sex. Particularly sex. Young grand tourists came across it everywhere, lively, in prostitutes, and given some sort of authority by the works of art at which they looked." That is exactly the effect of Makart's Summerhouse in Berlin, or his Four Senses in Vienna, or of the Wiertz Museum and the Delvauxs and the Last Temptation of St Antony and the Tresors de Satan in Brussels. It gives 'authority' to my search for sexual pleasure at night. 

"Unlike Rome, Naples was ruled by a royal court. And where there was a king there too was opera. In innumerable letters, journals, and diaries, opera is mentoned far more often and far more specifically than art or architecture. It was, apart from sex, their most fervent passion. They adored it. Some rode halfway across the country to hear a soprano of new reputation. And in Naples opera was said to be the glory of the country. Young grand tourists fell in love with these people...with their voices rather than their bodies." How else to describe my repeated visits to Berlin, for Die Ferne Klang, Salome, La Traviata? For one night only to see Elena Prokina? Maria Grazia Schiavo 

"To Vesuvius the grand tourists were drawn like bees to honey." 

"When they went back to England, they knew how to gamble, they knew how to drink, they knew how to fuck." 

I gamble with my life. Every time you go out at night looking for someone, you are gambling. Like on a roulette wheel, you put your money down on a number black or red, & spin the wheel. Most times you will lose, but once in a while you will win, and the win makes all the losses worthwhile. All the innumerable small losses are more than made up for by the occasional spectacular win, and that is what you keep doing it for. It is to be learned--this cleaving and this burning, but only by the one who spends out himself again. Oh 

I so much want to resume my Grand Tour: to go back to Brussels now, for the Radisson SAS, for La Monnaie, for the Empire and the Gare du Nord. I so much want to go back to Berlin for the Berlin Plaza, for the Staatsoper, for the Oscar Wilde, for Ciro, Mon Cheri, Golden Gate & Monte Carlo. I so much want to go back to Vienna for the Dorint, the Belvedere, the KHM, the Butterfly House, and the Gurtel. And the videokabins! The videokabins are the glory of Europe. 

THE ONLY WAY I CAN GO TO EUROPE AGAIN IS IF I HAVE GOT PLENTY OF MONEY IN MY WOOLWICH ACCOUNT. ONLY BY NOT GOING TO THE FLYING SCOTSMAN WILL MY BUILDING SOCIETY ACCOUNT START TO RECOVER TO GIVE ME SOME SPENDING MONEY. 

I tottered back to look in Sunset Cinema then back to Pamela (18th March 2006)

I tottered back to look in Sunset Cinema, then back to Pamela. It was so lovely to see her again. She was more beautiful than I remembered. Her tits are fantastic. I asked about her Greek boyfriend, and she said “I haven’t got a boyfriend anymore”!!! Feeling thrilled, I asked what happened to the Greek, and she said “it just didn’t work out”. I told her not to bother with condom, and she just lay on top of me. Then she lay back and let me suck her breasts until they got too sensitive & she told me when to stop. She let me kiss her pussy just once! She was so sexy, and was smiling so much, and was so warm. At last I am melting her Swedish ice! I did not want to let her go, and kept pulling her back to the bed, which made her smile & laugh.

If only I could have back all the thousands of pounds I have wasted on strippers and drink over the years I would go out and spend it all on strippers and drink (17th October 2006)

If only I could have back all the thousands of pounds I have wasted on strippers and drink over the years, I would go out and spend it all on strippers and drink. Our sad tawdry addictions are the best of us. If I did not have things to be sadly addicted to, I would kill myself. Our vices are the best of us. They are when we glow brightest and most brilliant. Oscar Wilde would not be celebrated today, would not have the West End full of his plays, would not have his own statute in Adelaide Street and his own stained (of course) window in Westminster Abbey if not for his vice. To watch young women take their knickers off on a stage. What a sad, empty experience, but as sad, empty experiences go, one of the absolute best. And at the Scotsman it has been refined to its most pure and simple state. The Nag’s Head and the Old Axe could be this good, but are not. Dodgy doorman demanding an apparently arbitrary amount of pound coins in their hand before they will let you in, body searches for concealed..what? An endless stream of 20 or 30 girls constantly asking for private dances. The fact that the FS does not offer private dances seems to me one of the most beautiful things about it. Anyway, if any of my Scotsman girls gave me a private dance I think I would die. It would be too much, after all this time longing for them. 

So a Journal about the FS pub, and yet so much of what occurs there must remain unsaid, sub judice. 

People criticise the FS because nothing is spent on it to modernise it, but that seems to me the knub of its absolute charm. It is like stepping back into Victorian London. With the Thatcherite revolution, the Millenium, the old Soho basement strip clubs were replaced by the mirrors and champagne and poles of the Stringfellows, and Sophisticats, and For Your Eyes Only, and we were told it is all right to go to strip clubs now, because they had gone upmarket, and respectable. Since when should sex be respectable? Sex should be down and dirty and sleazy or what is the point of it at all. The FS shines out like a beacon in the Stygian gloom, a glowing candle in the peasouper fog, by having resisted the tide. It is as close as you can get to the old Soho experience. It is like a fly trapped in amber. It is a Lost World at the bottom of a hole on a high South American plateau, where Tyrannosaurus Rex still roams and Pterodactyl still fly in the sky. It is the Pterodactyl brought back to London and escaping and circling above the Geographic Society against a Full Moon. 

KARL KRAUS. “Why do I always act so dumb, seem to fuck things up for fun. Just can’t help behaving, as if my head needs rearranging”. It is always something exotic, and steamy. Exotic, steamy, King’s Cross.

I write books about a chronic inability to relate to people or to talk to them or to form relationships of any meaningful kind (3rd Oct 2006)

I write books about a chronic inability to relate to people or to talk to them or to form relationships of any meaningful kind. About life lived with no companionship whatsoever even though much may be offered. AUTISMUS. BLACK NARCISSUS. THE COLD ICY AIR OF THE MOUNTAINS. CASANOVA. NOT OF —–. I go through life with no companionship, even though —– offered me companionship and I threw the chance away. The chance to get to know another human being, and to be known by another human being, and I threw it away. “The harder we search for someone else, the more likely we are to find ourselves.” “But it is not Turgenev’s writing that interests Dessaix most, it is his life. Specifically, the 40 years Turgenev spent in supposedly chaste devotion to mezzo-soprano Pauline Viardot, trotting around Europe after her—and her husband—like a fuddy-duddy lapdog”. “He puts off visiting sites and is ultimately uninterested in peeking under the sheet to discover if Turgenev slept with his muse”. “The greatest of the 19th-century novels always centred on the journey towards that moment when one person is known by another, and is transfigured—or believes she is transfigured, or wants to be transfigured—by intimacy. From Jane Austen to Charlotte Bronte to Tolstoy, novelists created and strengthened our faith in the absolute power of the love relationship to transform a life for good or ill”. “The American novelist Richard Yates died in 1992 with few of his books in print. His life was ‘a uniquely cheerless undertaking’…Yates ‘staggered from one badly paid teaching job to another, living in unbelievably squalid apartments and somehow writing further novels.” 

You wait so long for something special to happen in your life, that when it does, you just watch it in amazement & do not realise you have to make a move to catch it before it is gone and lost. A man on a desert island for 36 years finally sees a ship sailing by and is so shocked it is gone before he realises he should do something to make it stop. It is clear I have got to back and f–k either Demi or Pamela to cope with the pain of —–. I haven’t had sex since…Francesca on the 13th July, and both Francesca & Pamela the week before that. A lonely man, who never talks, just stands quietly on his own in the corner. When the girl he loves and pines for is just a few feet away on the other side of the pub, ready for him to talk to all night long if he wished, but still he stays on his own in the corner, talking to no one. 

I am Ernest Dowson, wandering around Europe after his rejection by Adelaide, suffering the torture of the damned. That is how I like to be. Pining for —–. Longing for —–. Bleeding for —–. I had a chance to get into her life and I let it go. 

“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”. 

I am a broken man. —– can see that now.

When I feel so broken and sad like I did last night & now I need to go on from the Scotsman to the cinema to lose myself in porn & that high (2nd October 2006)

When I feel so broken and sad like I did last night & now, I need to go on from the Scotsman to the cinema to lose myself in porn & that high, and on that high, dangerously excited, to go on to see Demi or Pamela. I need to see someone to take my mind off —–. And then straightaway I am right back into my old life and nothing will have changed whatsoever! Friday night 7pm I had another missed call from Olga. I definitely need to lose myself in the spiritual high of porn and whores to get my mind off the intense sadness of my relationship with —–. That means Berlin may have to wait till April or May. I didn’t try to talk to —– or buy her a drink, because I just want things to settle down between us, which started to happen at the end, when she let her body rest against mine & massaged my shoulder, so that I will feel OK about going to see her in Plumstead on the 18th November, which after all is only SIX WEEKS away! 

I am a dreamy boy, who lives in a world of his own. I am Ernest Dowson, seemingly always submerged in a dream. He spent all his money on drink and whores. He suffered the torture of the damned because his beloved Adelaide did not love him back. I need to go to see Demi and Pamela, to try to console me over my broken heart with —–. “I have been faithful to thee, Cynara, in my fashion” But all the time I am fucking Demi or Pamela it will be really —– I am imagining is beneath me.