November 8, 2016 §
One by one, strangely, they all fall away; I think when they realised they had no effect, and the more they attacked the more I flaunted myself in their faces, the more I provoked them by my continued exhibition of my wantonness, the more they realised I was playing them like a piano, the more they realised they were impotent moths smashing their brains out against a blazing lighthouse, the more I bloomed and blossomed, and flourished.
November 7, 2016 §
The stage at Atlantic City is really incredibly dark. The girls dance in almost pitch blackness. This too, with the clear, pounding, incessant music, gives it its attraction. My insights all come in strip clubs, and brothels, puffs, tingel-tangels, go go bars, call them what you will. They are where I live. I can be alive nowhere else. Whenever anyone attacks you for your shameful life, you bloom and blossom. The attacks are the vital prerequisite for blooming and blossoming. Our enemies are our greatest friends, they give us the essential rain that fertilises us. I have never been angry at an attacker; I smile and laugh and love them. They do not realise they are my catalysts.
October 25, 2016 §
With their attacks they thought I would be crushed and go under; instead it just made me feel even more special, and I began to bloom and blossom.
September 6, 2016 §
I’ve come close so many times to thinking I will have to end it, but if I can find a release valve, it will not be necessary. The problem has been I lost all the release valves—Carnival, Sunset Strip, Boulevard, Berlin, Brussels, Vienna, Munich—nothing worked anymore. If I can find a new one we can survive, and prosper, and bloom and blossom.
September 1, 2016 §
It is Walpurgis Night tonight; perhaps I should beg freedom for tonight. But I’m already drunk and tired by 12:15 in the afternoon. Thus the Journals 2010-11 begin. Now I have —– but miss my complete freedom to —- what I want. The cry of many a man everywhere. Perhaps we need to break up and love each other from a far, far distance. But I want the old excitement. The old sea-faring on stormy seas, Master & Commander excitement. No I don’t forget how eviscerated by pain and despair and loneliness I used to be every day of my life; I just wonder if that is not the only way I can live and thrive and bloom and blossom. Don’t our ways have to part? Isn’t it inevitable? I have never been in a relationship this long. It is not normal for me. I am in uncharted waters. Uncharted calm waters. I am grateful to the storms that formed me, and now miss them. Better we split? It will return the fire and excitement and blood to our relationship? I want a great big explosion of excitement in my life, like what —– produced at the beginning, but which is lost in marriage. Perhaps I have to split up to find it. So everything is new again. Some people can only be alone. The title of this book is still waiting to be discovered. The titles of all four books came towards the end. We are just in the foothills right now. The summit is lost in the fog.
September 1, 2016 §
I never thought I would have a connection with the real world around me, until —– came along. She brought me into reality. I still don’t know if I can cope with it. I will make her pay a higher price for keeping me in this world, and see if it is still a price she thinks worth paying. I love her, little —–, and will love her till the day I die, but I wonder if I can ever thrive and bloom and blossom in this world. How quickly I forget how totally eviscerated I was by pain and despair and loneliness in the long years before she came along. How rude, and foolish, to now question her rescue of me. I miss —–. I think I took a wrong turn when I turned to —- instead of her; and by the time she came back I had left —- and was with —– (all in one day, an incredible Twelfth Night). But I could not love her as deeply and totally as I love —–. I should perhaps start going to —-, —– and — more often. New environments.