Thomas a Becket is being brought back to life
August 6, 2016 § Leave a comment
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.