January 19, 2018 §
From now on I will take my pen to the pubs with me to write my Fackels there. When beaten, and rejected by all, attack! Provoke more! Go on the flamboyant offensive. I love this masochistic relationship I have now with —. Compartmentalise my mind so — is in a little locked red box of her own. I have been down so many times, and I have been through this so many times, I know my spirit will always bounce back. OK you run from me. Go ahead. I’ll be here until after you leave. Time is on my side. You think you have me cornered, but I have more place you don’t know about. Places in the mind that I can move to escape this pain you would kill me with. I really don’t LIKE female company. Apart from —, is there anyone I could bear to be sitting in this bar with now? No. I just like looking at them. When with them I have nothing to say to them. Believe in my spirit. Have faith in it. My Berlin Vienna Munich Brussels spirit. You have power, too. I don’t like to talk. I don’t like company. I just like to watch. I cannot smile or laugh at anything. I see the faces of people all around smiling & laughing so freely, so happily, so uproariously, & I think when was the last time I laughed? Have I ever really laughed like that in my life? I have never been happy. Not for one day. Not for one minute. That makes life very tiring. The thought of going back to my empty flat now is horrifying; and yet already half thrilling; my warm, fern-filled, classical music playing flat, while I work on my Fackels. Everyone needs a female friend, to offer them love, & kisses, & their —. Without that, madness is always close. I am so sick & tired, and bored & disgusted with all women. M— left me on my own. I travel all around the cold towns of Europe on my own. In London I drink in pubs on my own. It is nice to have an evening in inside my flat. When was the last time that happened?
January 19, 2018 §
Crane was a profoundly tormented man. Well, so am I. That is all right. It is OK to be profoundly tormented. “I am utterly disgraced I’m afraid”. I behave crazy. A predictably horrible morning. Makes me feel straightaway like I need a drink. The utter impossibility of relationships for one such as me becomes ever clearer. If I had left the Barbican with red scallop neck girl, that look of horror & shock would have come over her face before we had even reached the tube station. Lotta thought she liked me but soon changed her mind & became horrified. Covadonga thought she liked me but soon became horrified. If I had got together with pink top blonde on plane to Munich she would soon have become horrified & wanting to get away. Oh but I am different! That is all right. I am unique. I am Kaspar Hauser. I am Ernest Dowson. I am Vincent Van Gogh. Let me sleep early then get to the Tottenham, the Melon Tree, the Calcutta. I am the one no one can understand. I am happy being the way I am, smilingly tottering on my way. I am Svejk. I am a revolutionary by the way I live. The pain of my life is pretty extreme at this moment. I have nothing in my life but sitting drinking alone in pubs, watching the people around me talking & laughing & socialising. I am a kakapo night parrot. The only creature in the animal kingdom whose mating cry is actively repellent to the female of the species. I feel completely sexless now. Completely non-sexual, asexual. It is like my blood has run cold. I am calcified. I am VERY strange and eccentric. I am like a Victorian. The sadness of my life now is so deep. I MUST write my blood red Fackels. My Nietzsche books.
January 19, 2018 §
So back to my miserable little flat. What happened to my lovely little nest? I might as well go back to sleeping on the floor. These are sad, painful, bleak days, when last week I was feeling happy. All so unnecessary and disastrous. I am eccentric. I am Ernest Dowson. If you knew how to have relationships you would have been with —, making love to her, a year ago; but I do not know how to have relationships. I do not have a clue, so I will always be alone. The catastrophes of love. Sarah Kane killed herself at 28. Hart Crane jumped into the Caribbean aged 32. “Despite his literary success, Crane was a profoundly tormented man”. After his rejection by Adelaide, Dowson took to wandering Europe, suffering ‘the torture of the damned’. I have no enthusiasm whatsoever to see Redd on Thursday, nor Hannah on Friday night. Maybe Sunset Cinema. Maybe Mabuse at the NFT. I ride the bus to work in sublime nothingness, seeing nothing out the windows. I interact with no one when I get to work. My soul is dead. No life left in me, I might as well just lie down in the coffin & be done away with. My Fackels. I must pour all my repressed energies & loves into my Die Fackels with their blood-red covers. The Sublime & Ridiculous World of Francis Bacon. Of Ernest Dowson. My Nietzsche books. They have to be paperback books.
January 19, 2018 §
I AM A REBEL AND A REVOLUTIONARY. I AM OSCAR WILDE, FEASTING WITH PANTHERS. I DELIBERATELY LIVE WILDLY & SCANDALOUSLY (“YOU MADE ME FEEL LIKE THE ONE”). I AM ERNEST DOWSON. I AM RIMBAUD. I AM BAUDELAIRE. I AM VERLAINE. YOU ANTS CANNOT COME NEAR ME. I AM PETE DOHERTY IN THE BACK OF THE CAR, SINGING ALONG TO HIGH & DRY. “YOU WANT ME? COME FIND ME. MAKE UP YOUR MIND.” I INTEND TO DESTROY THE WORLD.
YOU MUST TEASE & TORMENT THEM WITH TRYING TO CLUTCH AT YOUR COATTAILS. WHEN ATTACKED THE WAY TO RESPOND IS TO BECOME MORE FLAMBOYANT, MORE PROVOCATIVE, MORE WILD.