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.

THOSE INCREDIBLE FELICIEN ROPS PICTURES I WAS LOOKING AT THIS MORNING SO MUCH MAKE ME WANT TO GO BACK TO BRUSSELS AGAIN (13th Feb 2006)

THOSE INCREDIBLE FELICIEN ROPS PICTURES I WAS LOOKING AT THIS MORNING SO MUCH MAKE ME WANT TO GO BACK TO BRUSSELS AGAIN. IT HAS BECOME AN INCREDIBLY EROTIC PLACE AGAIN—THE TOWN OF ROPS, OF WIERTZ, OF CLARISSE. JUST TWO MORE NIGHTS TO GET THROUGH THEN I CAN GET BACK TO THE CALCUTTA & THE FLYING SCOTSMAN, AND OSCARS & THE ABCAT—I AM ADDICTED. I AM AN OPIUM ADDICT. HERE IN LONDON, IN KING'S CROSS AND WHITECHAPEL; UNDER THE CHANNEL ON EUROSTAR TO BRUSSELS; IN BERLIN, AND IN VIENNA. MY THEME: “THE VISCERAL PLEASURE IN DETACHMENT OF AN AUTISTIC PERSON”. THOSE INCREDIBLE FELICIEN ROPS AND WIERTZ PICTURES MAKE ME WANT TO GO BACK TO BRUSSELS (AND NAMUR, AND THE EMPIRE AND THE GARE DU NORD). THOSE INCREDIBLE GEORGE GROSZ & OTTO DIX PICTURES, AND TILLA DURIEUX AS CIRCE AND VIKTOR MULLER’S SALOME HOLDING JOKANAAN’S HEAD MAKE ME WANT TO GO BACK TO BERLIN (AND MON CHERI & GOLDEN GATE & MONTE CARLO & CIRO). THOSE INCREDIBLE HANS MAKART PICTURES MAKE ME WANT TO GO BACK TO VIENNA (AND THE GURTEL). 

MY OPIUM ADDICTION HAS ALREADY CAUSED ME TO RUN UP A £5,060 DEBT ON MY CREDIT CARDS. “GET TO GRIPS WITH THE IDEA THAT IT IS EATING AWAY AT YOUR MONEY, YOUR LOVE AND YOUR LIFE.” NOW I WANT TO PLUNGE BACK TO BERLIN, & VIENNA, & BRUSSELS. DIVING DEEPER INTO DARKNESS! I AM COMPLETELY UNRESPONSIVE TO A WOMAN’S PROMPTINGS, LIKE AMANDA IN SUNSET, OR --- IN THE SCOTSMAN, OR THE BLONDE ON CHARING CROSS TUBE PLATFORM. I AM NARCISSUS, I AM DORIAN GRAY. I SEEM TO HAVE FORGOTTEN THE PASSION, AND LOST THE DESIRE. THE PRIVATE LIFE OF SHERLOCK HOLMES IS “REALLY A CHARACTER STUDY OF A MAN FOR WHOM LOVE SEEMS AN IMPOSSIBILITY, AND SO HAS THROWN HIMSELF INTO HIS WORK IN AN EFFORT TO ESCAPE HIS SAD PREDICAMENT.” 

SOLIPSISM: “YOUR WANTS & WISHES ARE ALL THAT COUNT, AND YOU MUSTN’T EVEN THINK OF GIVING WAY OR GIVING IN.” THE GREATEST THING THAT HAS HAPPENED THIS YEAR WAS SEEING M-- AGAIN. THERE HAVE BEEN NO REAL GREAT EVENTS THIS YEAR, INSTEAD JUST THE LOW LEVEL PLEASURE OF BEING IN MY OWN HOUSE, AND DRINKING IN THE CALCUTTA, AND MAKING SLOW PROGRESS ON AUTISMUS, AND LOTTA, AND THE COLD ICY AIR OF THE MOUNTAINS. THIS IS WHAT I AM PAYING £541 A MONTH FOR. IT IS AN INVESTMENT TO GIVE BIRTH TO MY FUTURE PERSON. I WILL WORK HARD TO GET ME THROUGH TO BERLIN IN MAY.