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 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.

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.

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.

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?

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 want my writing to be jouissance. Orgasm. An ejaculation in words (24th Nov 2006)

I want my writing to be jouissance. Orgasm. An ejaculation in words. 

Limit the f–king to once a fortnight. 

Translating mental upheaval into a revolution. 

“What do people think of me? A non entity, an eccentric, an unpleasant person, a person with no position in society, in sum the lowest of the low. Even if true, then one day I should like to show by my work what such a non entity, what such a nobody has in his heart. With a handshake, ever yours, Vincent.” 

I have become close to several whores: Ana Maria, Lela, Olga, Pamela. In Berlin Iga. To many sex dancers, too. In Munich Viktoriya. 

I wish the whole world was a harem. I wish it would thunder all the time, I wish it would rain all the time. I wish it would be dark all the time.

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.

Yes I miss those nights at Atlantic City & Sexyland & Golden Gate & Mon Cheri & Monte Carlo & Ciro & Pour Platin and Empire and the Scotsman and Sunset Strip & 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 Scotsman and Sunset Strip & 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 Martina 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 feel there was something real between us, if only in the blink of an eye. It is those moments that you keep going 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” The wine menagerie. 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 Makropolos. 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”.

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? 

 

Some beautiful new pictures of Sunset Strip on the website, what a surprise! Including two absolutely gorgeous pictures of —–. Oh you just look at those pictures and you see how attractive that world is, how easy it is to lose yourself in it, and submerge yourself in it, and let the waters close over your head, and disappear into another world. When you think of —– dancing to Promiscuous Girl. They are the best things in life. Maybe one day I will settle down with —–. Hahaha. I am abstaining from that world completely, just so I can dive back into it so completely when I am ready. Yes I owed £3,600 on October 1st last year, but I then still went ahead & went to Frankfurt for 4 days, Berlin for 5 days, Berlin for one night only, not to mention the last visit to Munich. What real nice warmth did I ever find in that world: —–, Janet, Sylvia, Martina, Amanda. Maybe Luana? 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.'”

I wake up alone and how do I feel about that? Fine (26th August 2006)

I wake up alone and how do I feel about that? Fine. There is no one I want to be with. I am so happy to be alone and free. I feel stressed because I have got to go back to the flat early in order to force myself to get to the Rebels & Martyrs at the National Gallery, and I have become so used to not going out, not doing anything. I have retreated so deep into my own little world, almost a hibernation, and liking it. Those drunken addictive years to strippers & whores seem so far away. It is so nice to be curled up small & protected. But always I fear everything being torn down, invaded, ripped away from me. As always I expect the great flood any moment & having to gather all my things together on a raft and starting all over again.

For all that talk of big breasts I never really made the most of my opportunities (25th August 2006)

For all that talk of big breasts I never really made the most of my opportunities: Clarisse I never even had a 5 euro dance in my seat & refused to talk to her, Martina, I went with Diana instead, Andrea I just had the £20 option instead of half an hour. I can worry about the sadness and despair of my last trips to Berlin, Munich, Brussels, but I always feel this sadness and despair so it is normal & I should enjoy it! There is a kernel inside my brain that only wants to be stimulated by pornographic films and prostitutes, and will never be able to feel anything in real relationships, so I should just understand that and enjoy it. Isn’t it great that I now feel so happy in myself and so self-confident, I am writing, I have my own place, I am enjoying the pornographic films and the prostitutes the same as ever, and no one can touch me. How beaten down I used to be. Not anymore. I am taunting them with what I enjoy that they cannot. I am flaunting it in their angry faces, more and more. I am provoking them more and more. I am Beethoven. I am genius.
Alcazar Crying at the Discotheque. My God I cannot wait to get back to Vienna again! Back to the Ring! I cannot wait to see Jolanda again. And Melani. Then on to Demi or Pamela. Oh travel is so much the greatest thing.
I try so hard to recreate the sensations I feel when I am on holiday. That feeling drinking beer from my minibar in my Munich hotel room before going to Atlantic City. Or drinking in my Vienna hotel room before going to ML Revue. Or in Berlin before going to BEC and Stuttgarter Platz.

Well, this morning I was able to pay £300 off my Barclaycard. The long road back starts here. I felt so uncomfortable when I came out my flat 930am yesterday morning. I had two pints in the Calcutta before getting the 23:19 home. ENJOY ALL MY TAPES AND MY VIDEOS! WHAT A COLLECTION I HAVE AMASSED!
I lead a strange existence. I read and write for a couple of hours, then sleep for a couple of hours. Listen to some classical music for an hour, then read & write some more, then sleep some more.

What a great life this is. Sleep for a few hours, get up to read and write for a few hours, listen to classical music for a while, sleep some more, for three or four days a week. Even my bad trips still produced interesting experiences. I need complete isolation. Complete peace. Complete solitude. I can only exist in solipsism, and its military wing, Priapism. I enjoyed living in the broken world of strippers and whores. But I fell in love with one of the strippers and started embarrassing myself. I want to write a magazine like Simpliccimus and Die Fackel. Or make my satiric interventions on, for example, BITE, or Openlegs4u. I would restart The Serpent’s Egg either on wildeboy.com or Yahoo360 but I would have to reveal too much about myself. My life revolves around strippers and whores and yet I cannot talk about that. 95% of my life would have to remain hidden under the surface leaving only the tip of the iceberg which is not worth talking about.