August 26, 2016 §
It must feel incredibly powerful to be on a stage naked. I am in awe of these creatures who can do it. They hold us in the palm of their hands, but that usually costs extra. It will be lovely to be back in Lamm’s again, with a pint of foaming Augustiner in my hand while I read my Guardian before the zwiebel rostbraten arrives. Back to the Intercity to sleep it off before heading out to Atlantic City later and then in the early hours of the morning heading back via the Justiz Palast.
August 25, 2016 §
“The title Lepanto refers to an important historical event. In 1571 events culminated in a devastating sea battle in the Gulf of Patras, during the course of which the united fleets of Venice, Spain, and the Pope (the Holy League) ferreted the Turkish fleet out of its winter quarters and destroyed it on a single day in October. Even though more than 8,000 of its soldiers alone died that day, with this victory the Christian alliance seemed to have achieved the decisive turning point in Europes struggle against the expansion of the Ottoman Empire.”The European defeat of the Ottomans and turning back of the tide is so redolent to me as it reminds me of the time I finally managed to throw off the waves of my oppressors and be free at last from the threat of destruction. They threw everything at me for years, and tried their best to destroy me, but I learned to play them like a piano, let them smash themselves to pieces against me like a moth against a lighthouse, flaunt myself in their faces like Nana on the stage of the Theatre des Varieties inviting the whole of Paris to worship her sovereign nudity. Cy Twombly’s Lepanto in Munich will now join the Pummerin in the top of Vienna’s Stephansdom as important places of pilgrimage.
August 25, 2016 §
On the bus back from Gatwick I saw the most amazing series of beautiful sexy women, starting at Piccadilly Circus and then along the entire length of Shaftesbury Avenue, although it dwindled out as rapidly as it started once we turned into the Charing Cross Road and then New Oxford Street, though there were three most stunningly beautiful brunettes on the bus with me for various stages of the journey all the way back to Dalston Junction, all of whom sought some eye contact with me. Sometimes I feel in bloom, I really do, though it is only ever fleeting. That is Spring for you. The funny thing is that now London has become merely a waiting room between trips to Vienna and Munich and Berlin and Frankfurt, it has brought London to some kind of life for me. No longer is London my prison for the rest of my life, it is but a waiting room between travels. One can live happily in a waiting room but not in a prison, even if one has to wait for six months at a time.
August 7, 2016 §
It was nice going on a pub crawl with —–. The Spouter’s Corner, The Angel, The William Blake, The Masque Haunt. Perhaps she is trying to do with me the things that I like doing to keep me happy. She was even incredibly enthused about the idea of us moving to live in Belgium, or Berlin, “why don’t we go? Why don’t we start to plan to go?”, and coming to the dirty night-time places with me so we can do those dirty things together where no one knows us. She was so excited by the idea, despite its evident impracticality. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we won the lottery to spend the rest of our lives touring the fleshpots of Europe together!
August 6, 2016 §
The Goose opposite Walthamstow Central station has one of the few busty Lemon Tree-esque barmaids left in London but rather a long way to go. The Goose at Wood Green we did not like, she said it smelt, and we did not stay. I am not doing very well this week. I drank on Monday night (2), Tuesday (5½), perhaps Thursday, Friday and Saturday as well. I think the Monday night Lord Nelson was beneficial though. I have that spare hour every Monday before —– gets home and I think it did feel good to spend it having a couple of pints. It did remind me so strongly of those weeks of repression when I used to go there to stop myself from going to the — and that was a rich memory, like biting down on a loose tooth to taste the blood. I cannot wait to see —– dancing tonight. It is still pleasurable—when I am drunk. The Original Dangerous Drug (Can Coffee Wreck Your Marriage?) Back in 17th-century England, King Charles wasn’t the only person who thought coffee was a social vice. The Women’s Petition Against Coffee of 1674 claimed all-male coffee houses were responsible for “a very sensible Decay of that Old English Vigour . . .” by promoting “the excessive use of that Newfangled, Abominable, Heathenish liquor called Coffee, which . . . has so Eunucht our Husbands and Crippled our more kind gallants they come from it with nothing moist but their snotty noses, nothing stiffe but their Joints . . .” prompting the men’s response that it “makes the erection more Vigorous, the Ejaculation more full, adds spiritualescency to the Sperme”.
August 6, 2016 §
Thomas a Becket is being brought back to life, in fetching new brown & gold robes, though no doubt he will have changed his name by the time he reopens. I drank in the Lord Nelson Monday night, on the corner of Trafalgar Avenue, just after Nile Terrace. Looking at the myriad pictures of Horatio in his tight white pants it occurred to me that a full Nelson is a full erection, and a half Nelson, is, well, a half. This is the way my mind goes, totally bitten by the serpent of sex. Every day I pass the rising priapic monuments of The Shard, The Pinnacle and the Heron Tower. I like the Shard but I do worry about planes and helicopters crashing into it. Its upper floors do disappear into the clouds on a regular basis. I don’t think I would like to work up there just seeing fog outside your window thinking a plane or flock of geese could come crashing into you without any warning. Drinking in the Lord Nelson reminded me of the days I used to drink here as I was trying to stop myself from going to the — to see —–. They were agonising months of repression—what good did it do? The night I finally said oh sod it, I am going to go, I felt such an incredible surge of pleasure and excitement. Repression is pointless. Life is too short. If I want to go to Munich, just go. If I want to go to P—— or M—— just go. You have to live, live the wonderful life that is in you. Get it out of your system. You cannot hold onto piss or shit so also no point trying to hold onto sexual or scopophiliac urges either.