September 30, 2016 §
I always say my momentous dates are always personal. As Nietzsche says, we must make our own feast days. Christmas, Birthdays, and New Year’s Eve, all mean nothing to me and are when I am at my most nervous and uncomfortable, feeling the skin stripped from my body, exposed. For me, the great nights are Twelfth Night, Walpurgis Night, St Swithin’s Night, and great personal anniversaries.
September 29, 2016 §
Really since January 2010, and at a stroke, after a typically momentous Twelfth Night, where I left —-‘s bed in the morning and welcomed —– back into mine just after the chimes of midnight, all my writing has been about the frustration of my lost freedom. ‘Boredom is the despairing refusal to be oneself’. You must never refuse to be yourself. That is why I have forced my freedom to watch strippers and to travel alone; —– has reluctantly ceded me this freedom, this privacy, and still calls me her baby, and we still give each other love. If she can accept the pain of my solitary travels, we can stay together and be stronger than ever, and bloom and blossom, and ripen, more than ever. Always the thought though that ripening just brings the moment of going rotten nearer. Between ripeness and rotting is but a hair’s breadth, a piano wire, a knife edge. Between the perfect point of inebriation and having passed that point is but a hair’s breadth, a piano wire, a knife edge. —– laughingly told me a woman lets her man think he has freedom at the beginning but gradually, imperceptibly, tightens her coils around him like a Boa Constrictor, till he is completely trapped. I have had to fight long and hard to release the coils.
September 28, 2016 §
I could have had a mind-blowing time with Melani in Munich, I could have had a mind-blowing time with Victoria in Frankfurt, I could have had a mind-blowing time with any of the four Brussels Nord whores. You see, the old way of life can be recaptured—if I can just cross that line and go through with it.
September 28, 2016 §
All there is to life is travelling, and preparing to travel. London is just a waiting room. It is dead for me now otherwise; it is of value only as a waiting room. There is nowhere for me to go in this city anymore. Even the ——– is so miserable. Yet I was miserable in Munich’s Atlantic City and Sexyland, miserable in every place I went in Frankfurt, and miserable in Brussels Empire. The greatest pleasures were the meals I had in Munich Rechthaler Hof and Brussels Grill.
September 27, 2016 §
The other reasons apart from loyalty and poverty-induced continence for my refusals in Munich, Frankfurt and Brussels were, 1, with Melani I was already struggling to drink anymore so felt I could not get through to closing time so thought I will come back tomorrow, only to walk in the next night and find her not there; 2, I might well have done something with Viktoria if she had not been so damn pushy and unable to take no for an answer; she was the one girl who caught my eye, so if she had demurely come up to me and asked, then demurely retreated, I would I am sure before long have demurely asked her to come back and do something; but no she would not give up or leave me alone, and that just irritates; 3, I might well have chosen one of the four stunning Gare du Nord whores, if only the street wasn’t such a dangerous zoo of aggressive pick-pocketing, necklace grabbing North Africans. That is three times now I have had an attempted robbery from North Africans on the streets of Brussels, when it has NEVER happened to me anywhere else in the world, not even in a lifetime living in London. On this occasion, my keeping my hands firmly in both pockets obviously frustrating my two new-found “friends”, I was hit on the chest with the palm of his hand and in the same movement he attempted to snap my chain from my neck. Fortunately it just snapped but stayed in place, and I was able to hurry away, leaving the four gorgeous Esmeraldas behind.
September 25, 2016 §
There are signs that the old glory could return: with Melani in Munich I could have had an amazingly dirty time, with Czech blonde Victoria in Frankfurt’s Moulin Rouge I could have had an amazingly dirty time, with the 4 stunning Esmeraldas at Brussels Gare du Nord I could have had an amazingly dirty time. That is six opportunities on that one trip to have done something dirty like I used to, but now I just keep stopping myself and tell myself to walk away. I think I have just raised my bar much higher now, because I am with —– now, and because I am so catastrophically in Arabella/Greekesque debt which is growing bigger all the time. Before I would go with almost anyone and not care less about the cost—because I had no one waiting for me at home and because my debts were then just in their infancy, just in the foothills, whereas now they are like the Alps and the Himalayas, Krakatoa and Vesuvius. So I travel everywhere with the Continence of Scipio, but it is a self-imposed continence. I look but don’t touch. Six years ago for sure I would have stayed till the end of the night to try to do something with Melani, for sure I would have gone with Victoria and her massive breasts into the Moulin Rouge separee, for sure I would have gone with one of the four Nord whores, and would have had a deliciously naughty time—now I always flirt with it but ultimately abstain. “I flirt with rescue when I have no intention of being saved”. This line from Smiles of the Summer Night is one that follows me through my life. It is only me, then, perhaps, that is stopping the old glory from returning. I would have to overcome my own reticence. If it turns out that I can never bring myself to go through with it, then so be it. I went to Berlin in September last year and did nothing, to Vienna in March and did nothing, to Cologne this September and did nothing, to Munich & Frankfurt & Brussels this month and did nothing, and I came home feeling proud that I did nothing. Temptation is much easier to resist than it used to be. Turning — means I am not in the white heat of lust all the time, which also helps, at the same as I feel sad that I am not in the white heat of lust all the time.
September 24, 2016 §
Why am I so bored drinking in London this Tuesday afternoon, when if I was drinking in Berlin I would be so happy? Or in Vienna, or in Munich, or Brussels? This is why I travel, and why I have to travel. I take myself to the Bavarian Beerhouse in City Road to try to pass the time less painfully. My first impression is it is too light and bright! I want the darkness of Lamm’s or Rechthaler Hof! Ah, the Tower Hill Bavarian Beerhouse is much better, downstairs at least—though perhaps too busy for my taste. “Every once in a while the planets align in a manner that leads not only to opportunity but to breakthroughs. While the aspect between the planets behind this, Jupiter and your ruler Pluto, isn’t until the 28th, it’s likely you are already sensing the excitement coming your way.” Ah, the manageress has put the TV on and it is even Bayern Munich on the TV, lovely. Was it Johnson who said when you are tired of London you are tired of life? Well I am so tired of London. If I won the lottery I would spend my life in Munich, Vienna and Berlin. London is just for working and for being with the Baroness.