Yes I miss those nights at Atlantic City and Sexyland and Golden Gate & Mon Cheri & Monte Carlo & Ciro & Pour Platin and Empire and the Bell and Sunset Strip & Sunset Cinema but you cannot keep doing it all the time [25th Sept 2006]

Yes I miss those nights at Atlantic City and Sexyland and Golden Gate & Mon Cheri & Monte Carlo & Ciro & Pour Platin and Empire and the Bell and Sunset Strip & Sunset Cinema, but you cannot keep doing it all the time. You cannot do it every week, 52 weeks a year. Yes I am missing out on all those experiences and all those heady nights and all those new people like Janet or Martini that might be arriving--but it is great to have some months when you do nothing, and then have some months when you go back to it. You have to deny yourself some things for a while, in order to enjoy them again. The longer I leave it the more I will appreciate it when I go back to my Pope life, my Francis Bacon life, my George Grosz life. The Broken World. The Shining Road. Once again I pore over the weather forecasts. For signs, auguries, of when the right time will be to resume my former sinful profligate life. I divine things from the weather. My sexuality is linked to the weather as much as it is linked to finance and to justice and to cathedrals. I will indulge my sexuality when the weather indicators are right, and the financial indicators are right, and the scales of justice feel right, and when in the cathedral it feels right. 

I love the wicked women. I have met some women I could trust in that broken world, Lela, for example, Ana Maria, Pamela. Diana in Berlin or Riccarda. Probably not Iga, as much as I love her! You can genuinely touch someone in that world and be touched by them, I think. I always go into that world looking for love, as I think they are the only women I could ever love. The clink of gold in the glass. The Tallulahs are probably no more cynical than the Esmeraldas. They are only nice to you as long as you are filling their glass with gold. Still, I think you can meet some exceptions, when something genuine passes between you, with Susi, with Janet, with --. And if I am wrong, then it does not matter. Fleetingly, it felt nice to real there was something real between us, if only in the blink of an eye. It is those moments that you keep go out looking for. That is what you keep gambling for, throwing so much money down on the roulette table for the very occasional moment when you get back more than you put in. That is what you keep trawling the broken world for, those fleeting moments when eye meets eye and some spark of electricity passes between you, and that current brings you back to life, for a couple of hours, or for one night, at least. That is what the poems of Hart Crane speak to me of: "The flesh assaults outright for bolts that linger". How you put on your beer goggles, so everything looks magical, everyone looks beautiful and desirable, and everyone seems to find you beautiful and desirable in return. If it is all commerce, simply, then no matter. There are just those brief moments when it seems so real, comes so close to being real, that it is as good as real. 

In every city there is Helen of Troy locked up somewhere in a room. She lives on like Orlando, like Emilia Makropolus. You go out every night searching for her, as David Tennant's Casanova always searches for Laura Fraser. "The sight of a whore is profoundly thrilling to a man". As a scopophiliac, sight is everything to me, and I lose myself in that world. For two months I have had to abstain completely and withdraw from it, only so that I might return refreshed and enjoy it anew. "There is only one woman in the world for me, you know that". "Who is she? Tell me!""No. She is cruel to me." "Maybe you were cruel to her." "Ah, that's what a bleeding heart does to a man. It drips and leaks into his soul, and before long floods his soul, and saturates him, and all his thoughts and all his words and all his deeds become bloody." "What could a woman do to help such a man?" "Well, if you would just give me your hand for a moment..." "No! You're an animal!" "If you would just step into this dark corner with me for a moment..." "No! Never again! No more dark corners with you!"

How I walked away from Irina without seizing my moment. How I walked away from -- without seizing my moment. How I walked away from Susi without seizing my moment. Maybe Riccarda, too. Pamela?

I live in the Ernest Dowson world. Don’t stick your head above the parapet unless you want to get shot at. When I hear Maneater I want to see -- dancing to it. I am obsessed with her.

"As Nietzsche put it, while recovering from his intoxication with Wagner: 'What can be done well today, what can be masterly, is only what is small.'"

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. 

"We drank hard and talked about what Debord, who drank persistently and prodigiously, had written about alcohol"

"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 don’t like me, do you", and she exploded back with real hatred "Yes. Because you're always drunk". *****************I insist on the primacy of my own experience. My own vision. I can only be alone. I can only be in cold icy mountains. ******************Don't be unhappy, be happy! Think what immense power you have got! You have made the great separation & now live for pure Priapism. You have got money. Winter is coming. I can go to the Bell, the Sunset Strip, Sunset Cinema, Demi and Pamela. In January I can go to Berlin. This is going to  be a season of the flesh. I have got a nice little job I enjoy. I have got money coming in. I have got my own little nest. I have got a week off in December and another week off in January to go to Berlin, for La Traviata and Carmina Burana.

"Where do you live actually?" said Pamela to me. The discipline of saving money is actually a really exciting one. It has made the Bell more exciting for me. It will no doubt make Sunset Strip more exciting for me eventually. I love the things I have got away with in the past, the things I get away with now, the things I will get away with in the future. 

I have got my book-lined London home, filled with ferns, and classical music. I live like a church mouse in a little hotel earning the money to write my books, while enjoying the girls taking their knickers off to loud music, and travelling a couple of times a year to Berlin. I am still sad about --. Do what you want with your genitals, otherwise you will regret it when you're dead.

I feel an almost physical revulsion at the thought of going back to Sunset and Demi and Pamela [13th Sept 2006]

I feel an almost physical revulsion at the thought of going back to Sunset and Demi and Pamela. But what else is there, so I will eventually. When I know the pleasures I have felt in those places felt so intense. I feel a physical revulsion for going back to those nighttime Vienna places and the nighttime Berlin places. I feel a physical revulsion for spending any money when I am in this saving mode. That is good. I have become allergic to spending money when before I seemed addicted to it. I feel an almost physical revulsion for women. I am a strange man. How can -- or anyone have a relationship with a strange man like me. I am like Ralph Fiennes Spider. I only learnt how to be alone when I was a baby, and I always will be. I love places where I can be alone surrounded by loud pounding music and naked girls, that is why I love the dream world of the Scotsman and Sunset Strip so much. It is the ultimate detachment. The ultimate transcendency. The ultimate lens. The ultimate gateway to the state of bliss that is the Kingdom of Death. Ultimate nothingness. --'s finger to the lips in a hushing gesture seems a very big moment. That nervousness so intense I cannot breathe as the train nears Nuremberg & as I got off and walk along the corridor to the entrance hall, and the nervousness I felt so intense I could not breathe as i went down the steps at the Astral, I now feel when I walk to the Scotsman from the north from the 91 stop. I feel it too when I enter Sunset Cinema, hoping to find a woman being monickered, and also when I go up the models' steps. That is the high. That is the drug.

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?

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 am on such an exciting new project now (10th August 2006)

I am on such an exciting new project now. I am as thrilled by the prospect of tightening my belt, and living like a monk, and saving money now, as I used to be by living wildly and spraying my money around and living hedonistically. It will be such a slow process before I notice any difference though. Like a supertanker, your personal finances are very slow to turn around. Your Love Is Like Poison, the song that -- put on & I felt it was aimed at me. Yes my love is like poison and my love of strippers had become like poison. Like alcohol poisoning your blood by too much drink, I had stripper poisoned by blood. My love was like poison to --, to Jolanda and to Melani. All of them started off liking me then wanted to avoid me. Finally now I have the chance to remove the poison from the blood and be clean again. Confessions of an English Opium Eater I carried around with me Friday, and really strippers has been my opium over the years, ever since I first fell into it on that dark, stormy September afternoon on the shining road of Dean Street 14 years ago. I have been in its thrall ever since. And yes in the early days it provided me with magical moments, supremely high moments, but increasingly over the years those high moments became fewer and further between as my addiction worsened, and became nothing but habit, with no joy or excitement left in it. 

Those red wig days, Czech Boulevard girl days, gold dress days, Carnival days, are very far in my past now. Now there are only the desperate depraved addicts memories of my appalling behaviour. How thrilled I will be now by watching my Woolwich building society account filling up and rising from minus to plus, from plus 100 to 200 to 300. That will be my high now. That will be my addiction now—hoarding money. I will get as much thrill from hoarding money as I used to from spending it. Oh if only I could have had this revelation earlier, if only I could have had this road to Damascus conversion sooner! But it has to come when the moment is right. I had to wait until I suddenly became physically revolted. I had to wait till the poison became so bad that it reached the tipping point and where it suddenly physically made me sick.

It was only when I got the —— job that I had the money to start travelling and travelling led to so many amazing breakthrough moments in my life and caused so many explosions in my mind and opened up so many new rooms in my mind that I never knew existed. I went through so many Ishtar Gates and crossed so many Rubicons, really starting from that first trip to Brussels on the hotel money where I saw Alizee’s J’en ai marre & nothing has ever been the same again. So of course I must save my money and hoard it so fiercely and protect every penny I earn so lovingly, to enable me to keep travelling. I have stopped going through Ishtar Gates and so have fallen stagnant and become a fever infested swamp of lethargy and stripper addiction which brought no real joy or happiness.

The richer you are the more you can gamble,and the more you gamble the more you are going to enjoy spectacular wins. If you are poor you can only gamble very rarely and very small sums and so even if you do sometimes win it is only for very small rewards. How can I say Munich is boring? How can I say Vienna is boring? You carry the weather with you. If I travelled with £2,000 in my pocket I would have the time of my life there. If I went in with a million pounds I could fuck the Irina lookalike, fuck Maria, fuck Angelique, and have the time of my life. Even in Munich I could go from club to club having a drink with every girl I liked until I found the one with looser morals who would let me come on her breasts at least. But as it is now I cannot afford to look in so many clubs, I cannot afford to buy so many girls a drink in order to find the one I want, and I come away feeling frustrated & that Munich is over, when really it is only that I do not have the starting collateral to enable me to gamble freely. You have to speculate to accumulate. At the moment I cannot speculate. To do is to dare. At the moment, I can no longer dare. This is a very important thing I have realised. Munich can come back to life for me ! Brussels can come back to life for me! Vienna can come back to life for me! All these places can bloom and blossom and shoot up above me letting me shelter under their glorious smutty fronds—if I repair my finances and hoard my gold coins in London so I can gamble wildly and speculate crazily and dare everything when I go back. In Feb and March I spent £617 on strippers and £547 on drink, another £1,164 in Feb and March alone. So together Feb March April May June July I could have had an extra £2,700 in my Woolwich account, or £1,100 in my Woolwich account and my Barclaycard at zero! Then for sure Munich would be full of life for me and bloom and blossom. Then for sure Vienna would be full of life for me, and bloom and blossom. You should only go into those Munich clubs, Vienna clubs, Berlin bars, if you have a lot of cash to spend; there is absolutely no point if you are on a tight budget. Then no wonder you come home feeling frustrated and dispirited. My holidays have got increasingly worse as my debt has increased. Let me go back to those years of repression 1996 1997 1998 when I could only yearn for those occasional visits to the pornographic cinema and a whore. That repression was so sexy, I was like a tautly strung hair trigger, it was delicious. Since then, in contrast, I have been like a gambling addict, Merson or Rooney, going deeper and deeper into debt. That is over now. The girls always say in those places I look miserable. If I went in rich I would be happy & fuck them all.

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.

As good as Wednesday was Thursday was bad (6th July 2006)

As good as Wednesday was, Thursday was bad. It was ever thus. I was strangely not in the mood for Sunset. Stacey & Helen sitting at bar as I stood between them waiting to get my drink when I arrived, Samantha, Giselle, Daniella, Lana, but I felt uncomfortable & awkward. Had four Fosters before going up to the Scotsman but it was the worst line up ever, not one worth staying for. I could only finish about a third of my pint and left again! I felt like going straight home but felt I would feel like it had been a missed opportunity if I sat at home all Thursday night, so forced myself back to the cinema for the same films. It was a mistake. The same films never seem so sexy second time around. Resisted the thought of forcing myself to Francesca as well, and came home via a KFC, another mistake, and a tuna & mayo roll. The blonde girl grinned at me so much as I approached and said “tuna mayo!”. As I left I said cheers, and she looked up at me with the most gorgeous huge grin and a “cheers brother!”. Someone likes me at least. At the start, I finally made it to the Courtauld–what treasures! At the 87 bus stop going home to pick up my dirty washing, lovely big voluptuous Eurasian/Kazakh? looking girl was looking how to get to Leicester Square so I told her, but as I was demonstrating & explaining, she pressed her huge breasted voluptuous body in blue T-shirt & jeans right up close to me, and our bodies kept bouncing against each other. It was so erotic & she was hot.

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.

The — interview was fairly awful (22nd June 2006)

The — interview was fairly awful. At the end she was saying “You don’t seem relaxed. You seem…distant! Like there is something else on your mind. Are you all right?” How this echoes what N— was saying to me all through the training & at the end. Everyone finds me distant. I would not want to work at the —! It is funny, for the interview — sat me down at the same table where I had sat with Lydia! 

It took me an hour to get back to the flat as the 87s stopped coming along the Strand! Passing me at the stop was the most stunning brunette girl in black short skirt, black jumper tied round waist, and tight black top over the most massive soft bouncy breasts, and so so pretty face. She saw me looking and put her head down smiling as she passed. My God, I wanted to f— her brains out. I got changed & headed straight back to Calcutta for Italy v Czechs but would have preferred to watch the girls passing by. I left just before halftime to get to Sunset. Barmaid was in yellow Brasil top waving to me as I paid to come near her to get my drink & not make her walk! Then Helen. My God, Helen, another real erection watching her, and another real erection when Stacey came on again. When was the last time I got real erections at Sunset Strip, or anywhere for that matter? It takes me back to the days of red wig, and gold shoes, black feathers. The old man in front of me paid Helen a tip, so she kept coming back to him but I noticed even though she stood or lay right in front of him, her body was always angled so her pussy and or her arse was pointing in MY direction! It was thrilling. Every time she kept her eyes on him, but pointed her pussy at me. She is incredible. I left at 530 to get to the Bell, feeling tonight was the night when I would see —! As I bought my pint I looked up and there was —‘s name finishing at 7!!!

I was saying just on Thursday where are all the sexy dancers (20th June 2006)

I was saying just on Thursday where are all the sexy dancers, and yet Saturday night I felt so sexy watching almost all the Sunset girls, Luna, Adriana, Helen, Ariana, Elektra, Foxy, Esthee, as well as the ones sitting upstairs I never got to see. Atmosphere is everything. Being in the right frame of mind, and being in a crowded place. I will go back to Sunset much more often on Saturdays. All the time Saturday I was thinking “I am in a Fu Manchu film” and every time I felt tired this immediately sparked me up again & made the sight in front of me seem sexy. If I imagine my whole life as being acted inside a Fu Manchu film this makes everything sexy to me. I was thinking on the bus home this morning, when I actually felt so happy & confident, that I needed to be cockier & more confident, like I did Saturday night, to get more out of things. Definitely Fu Manchu is the paradigm I need to remember. The Willing Cheeks of Fu Manchu! The Yellow Claw! I love that foggy Edwardian London they are set in, and after all don’t I live in an Edwardian London? A ——– Edwardian London? It gives me the chance to really enjoy the pleasures of Moloch, the nighttime pleasures, and the pleasures of Berlin, and Vienna, and Brussels. It give me the chance to stay in ——– palaces in Vienna, and elsewhere. If you go in feeling sexy, it will feel sexy. How sexy Esthee seemed. Even Nikita and Anna. Everything was eroticised. I was ready to come in the cinema even after six beers. It was spitting with rain as I came home this morning, and the trees were dark green through the misty spray of the rain, and it felt so Fu Manchu.****An incredible night on Streamway. I gravitated almost straight to OpenLegs4U; she was the only one I wanted to log into under my own name anyway. As usual, she was like stone, not an answer to anyone. Yet her face was so expressive, she was so happy and laughing, and smiling. Amazingly I broke through. “You are like the sphinx” “Beautiful, enigmatic, and mysterious” And then it came, in red: “Ty”. “You set men riddles that no man can solve” I then asked her to look me in the eyes for two seconds, which she did not do, which started off a raging argument between Stooge and Popi: “If you aren’t gonna do that for sarge, why not live up to your namesake and open your legs” “Don’t be so rude”. Then, amazingly, while the battle was raging, she DID seem to look into the camera, twice, for a couple of seconds each. It felt an amazing moment of connection. “You are the most fascinating woman on this site” Amazingly, another immediate, red, “Ty”. “if you really think that,” said Stooge, “you must have led a very sheltered life. ” “No not really, ” I replied, “All the others just seem the same” “If you don’t agree she is the most fascinating person on here, why stooge are you still here?” “Waiting for some miracle, to show she has a brain or a personality” Someone then took her private & I wandered off to look at Melanic. When I came back, no one else seemed to be there for a while, until two or three new people emerged. By then I had found her email address in her photos & tracked her down on Google to her Yahoo site and more stunningly beautiful pictures. “Littlewolf” I said to her only, and she kept her face impassive, though her heart & mind must have been racing inside. Then “Would you please look me in the eye once more before I go?”, to which she without hesitation glanced sideways at me out of the corner of her eye.

Quite a grey cool 7AM start to the day as it so often is in summer (18th June 2006)

Quite a grey cool 7AM start to the day, as it so often is in summer. I just want to be going back to Sunset Strip and Sunset Cinema. I am a rebel and a revolutionary and I just do not care. I flaunt and provoke and scandalise. Just three nights to get through! Then Jolanda for sure early Wednesday. When the ———? When my life is so empty and I am so bored, what else could I do but turn to pornography, strippers and whores? Is Lydia another one I have broken the heart of? Like Lela, and Ana Maria? Maybe Pamela, too? Viktoriya? Susi? If I didn’t spend money like this is in Moloch, I would just save it so I could do the same things in Berlin and Vienna. Van Gogh, Dowson, Ravel spent their whole life with whores, it is what artists, writers, composers do. It is the bohemian way of life. And it leads to the madhouse, or the morgue. I love my little flat don’t I?! To listen to Wagner Tristan Prelude and Schoenberg’s Erwartung on my tape machine, and then watching the Francesco man on the TV talking about Italy.

And still the never ending rain continues (26th May 2006)

And still the never ending rain continues. All the greenery looks lovely in the wet, and it is muggy, despite the coldness of the rain. Massive breasts petite little South American blonde ponytail in sky blue sweater on bus, and asymmetric black hair goth with black sphinx eyes. Thoroughly depressed otherwise. Bleak and sombre. I feel like Hart Crane or Ernest Dowson, the morning after another disastrous foray into the broken world. A bad gamble. The £40 I spent on Demi and Pamela two weeks ago which I felt so happy about contrasts well against the horrible £40 I spent in the Old Axe on private dances with M—– and S——. A woman in the corner at Calcutta watching me as I came in, the same one who I looked up and found watching me before, the time I was sitting at the table & Ursula came up to collect glasses smiling. I did not see her go. The beer was warm!

I can never seem to contemplate my approaching days off without thinking only of strippers (22nd May 2006)

I can never seem to contemplate my approaching days off without thinking only of strippers. I am addicted. They are my fix that I have to have every week. I suppose it is an improvement that I am now going just once a week, to Sunset Strip, rather than the three or four times a week as I was to the Scotsman. I make up the slack with Sunset Cinema and Pamela, however. The intensity of the last couple of weeks, Melani & Elektra & Sunset & Pamela on Wednesdays, followed by ENO and the Lemon Tree barmaid on Thursdays make it a very powerful drug, a very powerful fix, and means the addiction is getting worse. After such highs I keep needing at least the same highs, and then always more. So how can I just go home this week! Of course I will need Melani on Wednesday and of course I will need the Old Axe and White Horse on Friday and maybe even ENO as well.

How fantastic like on Wednesday night to be able to see girls as outrageously sexy & voluptuous & beautiful as Martina (28th April 2006)

How fantastic, like on Wednesday night, to be able to see girls as outrageously sexy & voluptuous & beautiful as Martina, as Kelly, then as Melani. How much I take that for granted. 

I’ve got a very safe sinecure in the —— Hotel which gives me the pocket money to pay my rent & to write my books, while sustaining my addictions to drinking & to strippers. Everyone at Sunset seemed cool to me Wednesday. That long unreadable look from Melani, Alison never smiling at me once, Juliana behind the bar stonily giving me two tens for a twenty without any eye contact or a smile. It is funny just as the girls at the Flying Scotsman have never been nicer to me, the ones at Sunset Strip have gone very cool. 

dook_sucks said @ 8:17pm GMT on 8th Jul My favorite physicist, Richard P. Feynman used to go to strip clubs all the time. He’d sit there and work out equations while they’d be dancing in front of him. That he could concentrate oh high level advanced physics and strippers at the same time is testament to his genius. Sorta like Sensible Erection, no? Glad to see the hawk-meister is of the same caliber. 

matt said @ 6:15am GMT on 9th Jul [Score:1 Insightful] I dunno, strip clubs are pretty good places to go to get time to think. I’ve a long history of going to them to get away from people. the Beauty of them is no one looks at you or pays you any attention at all (apart from the girls trying to convince you to have a paid private moment with them). You can just sit there with your drink, think, write, ponder, whatever, and when you look up, there’s something pleasant to cast your eyes over. Hell, you could consider them muses.

I am lonely so I like to be surrounded by beautiful scantily clad women in nothing but their bras & knickers & corsets while I drink myself to death (24th March 2006)

I am lonely so I like to be surrounded by beautiful scantily clad women in nothing but their bras & knickers & corsets while I drink myself to death. Sometimes we smile & flirt a little bit but whenever I get too close they move away, or whenever they get too close I move away. How lovely to stand in the corner watching the football with M-- just a foot away from me talking to the other man, so I could gaze & gaze at the lovely voluptuous arse cupped in those white cami-shorts. The night before when L-- had stood in the same place and I could gaze at her even more voluptuous arse in nothing but a g-string under black see through top. The power of the gaze, John Berger. How lovely to have some hot eye contact with scantily clad women like A--, H--, M--, and --. I am a disappointment to girls, when they discover I have nothing to say. I am lost in my own dreamworld, my own underworld. I cannot be roused out of it. I will always be the lost boy. I think -- is still fond of me. I think she still has tenderness & affection for me. When you are a loner, and have lived in your own world so long, it is hard to give it up, even when you want to. This was Will Penny's problem. This was Stephane's problem. This was Peter Pan's problem.

It was quite strange that C——- was there last night but —— wasn’t. She was nice to me, smiling and laughing and asking if I was OK. J—— is always lovely to me. A—– was giving me such hot looks. M——‘s look, and comment to Helena. “Hello trouble”. I am Aschenbach in Death in Venice. Because I want you some more. I want you some more. I really wanted someone, but tortured by my own repression, I did not act, and missed my chance. I am drowning in booze since I got my own flat, but at least I am doing something. After sucking my ear, C—— let me touch her arse again, and then stood so close to me while collecting from the men behind me that her bum was still resting against me. The great value of the flat to me is that I can just be alone and silent here. I consider a day wasted if I cannot spend it in solitude and silence.

Despair & depression. This is how Noodles felt after he saw Deborah off at the railway station & went back to his opium den. This is how Stephane felt as he sits at the cafe table & watches Camille drive off for the last time. I deliberately destroyed my relationship with —– to stay safe. Like Noodles I am a gentle & tender man, and yet I act animalistically, like the way he rapes Tuesday Weld on the bank raid. It is the only way I know how to relate to women. Broken and empty. I want to take all my comforters back to the flat with me; my Hart Crane, my little black diary.

A lot of the girls like me but I never do anything. —– was the only one who got close. It is like I wanted to remain unknown even though I was tempted.

A brief visit to Sunset Strip (29th Dec 2006)

A brief visit to Sunset Strip, after the appalling enforced Christmas abstinence, to see the divinity that is Jolanda and the callipygous Helen. It is amazing how much more naked a stripper looks when she takes off her shoes. The first thing Helen always does when she steps on stage is to take off her shoes, & then slowly pads around the stage, Salome-like even without the Salome costume, on the balls of her bare feet. All strippers should dance barefoot, I think. Without wanting to get too personal, she does have the best behind in London, apart OF COURSE from Hannah/Pink at the White Horse who possesses a bottom that you would follow anywhere if you met it in the street. 

When Jolanda steps on stage it is like how Zola describes Nana: “Then scarcely was Diana alone than Venus made her appearance. A shiver of delight ran round the house. Nana was nude. With quiet audacity she appeared in her nakedness, certain of the sovereign power of her flesh. Some gauze enveloped her, but her rounded shoulders, her Amazonian bosom, her wide hips, which swayed to and fro voluptuously, her whole body, in fact, could be divined, nay discerned, in all its foamlike whiteness of tint beneath the slight fabric she wore. It was Venus rising from the waves with no veil save her tresses. And when Nana lifted her arms the golden hairs in her armpits were observable in the glare of the footlights. There was no applause. Nobody laughed any more. The men strained forward with serious faces, sharp features, mouths irritated and parched. A wind seemed to have passed, a soft, soft wind, laden with a secret menace. Suddenly in the bouncing child the woman stood discovered, a woman full of restless suggestion, who brought with her the delirium of sex and opened the gates of the unknown world of desire. Nana was smiling still, but her smile was now bitter, as of a devourer of men. “By God,” said Fauchery quite simply to La Faloise.” 

Jolanda wore a lime green see-through slip of fabric for my first sight of her, then a pink dress for her double act with Helen, finishing with that Stokerish white see-through dress. I realise now not only is she a Nana, but a blonde Zora Suleman, and there is not much better than that. For me, she is the Queen of Sunset Strip. Miss Soho 2006. Jolanda is a girl Toulouse Lautrec would have designed posters for. Why don’t they do that anymore!? 

Yes I think going to strip pubs is about sex (22nd Dec 2006)

Yes, I think going to strip pubs is about sex. I only enjoy watching a girl strip if I want to f–k her (for those who like dirty talk). There is nothing worse than watching a girl strip who you do not fancy. This is the time to get up & get another drink or go to the lavatory even if you do not really need to go; although, thinking particularly of Sunset, it always looks so rude when a man gets up & leaves his seat as soon as a girl comes on to dance! I try and do it delicately when her back is turned. The dirtiest striptease I ever saw was Hungarian Janet at the *[Hogarthian place]* dancing to Madonna’s Material Girl this year, during her all too brief stay on these shores. I pray for her return in 2007. Nothing else has ever come close to Janet for pure (!) dirty sexiness. It is almost always all in the eyes, I think. You can be watching a dancer and be completely unmoved, but then she looks you in the eye for a couple of seconds, and straightaway you are turned on, as the “smutty provocations” pass between you. But then that is the same anywhere, of course. Tenseness, Eroticism, Repulsive Pathology. 

The plethora of Christmas decorations hanging down from the Queen Anne ceiling made it seem like a tropical whorehouse; oh, I do apologise, HOThouse. Like a mangrove swamp, with the tendrils of fog curling through the door every now & again easily mistaken for steam; if it wasn’t so fucking cold. And it seemed so DARK in there! Obviously the effect of the new lighting. I like dark, so I am all in favour of this. Also, the music seemed louder than I have ever known it. Still not deafening, but louder than usual. In contrast to the Esteemed Maestro I love going to strip pubs at Christmas as they are so packed & the atmosphere is so good, and the Queen Anne was certainly packed. 

And then, there she was, the loveliness that is Ms Adaire. In Santa hat, and little red lacy Santa outfit {Great Tontoolian Marshes! “And those white Martian Princesses have to be seen to be believed!”}. With no disrespect to the other ladies present I enjoyed watching Redd sitting down more than I did watching the others dancing. Why pay to watch? I’d pay to watch her doing nothing. I’d pay to watch her sleep. Still recovering from my Golden Arm excesses of the previous night, and my weakened body already succumbing to a cold, I would not have bothered coming out for anyone but her. I did not stay long & did not indulge in a private dance as the thought of having to sit on my hands when such temptation was right there in front of me was too much to contemplate. I am not that strong.