November 25, 2016 §
Brussels is hot and sunny. Not at all what I want to see when I come to Brussels in October. Tomorrow at least should be cool and showery so I will feel more at ease tomorrow. 5 past 3 and I am already quite drunk on Café du Dome stellas. I wonder if I will ever get to La Monnaie for Lulu at 7. My number one thought here in Brussels is I want to find a long pair of boots for—–, but I cannot think like that. I have got to think like I am single, and completely alone—only then can I have any enjoyment out of being here in Brussels alone. Being in love with someone makes such a difference. I wonder at what time I will start to see the North Africans on the streets, the Moroccans, in their black leather jackets and blue jeans? I wonder at exactly what time will a couple of them try to rob me? Oh no 15:14 and I have got hiccups! Bloody hell! Four men have just come out of the Cine ABC at the same time. Have they closed? Maybe they were just waiting for the first striptease of the day (on the hour) and she was no good. When I get back to London I am working almost every day up to the 11th November. I am happy about this—to pay for the money I am spending here in Brussels now and to pay for the trip I want to take to Berlin at the end of November. If not travelling, I want to be working. It is amazing how many sexy girls I saw at Gare du Midi in 10 minutes compared to the zero I have seen here at the Café du Dome windows in two hours.
October 23, 2016 §
I had to laugh. The poster in ABC says “new films every Wednesday!”. New is only in a very limited sense of the word considering all the films are from the 1970s. Whereas the Cine Paris has the newest high quality French porn. The Cine Paris roused me to a very high pitch of arousal indeed.
October 23, 2016 §
Not wanting to go back to the Ibis bar while killing an hour or so before my Eurostar home, I wandered down Avenue Fonsny and found this charming bar on the next corner, full of great ferns, and art nouveau posters and fabulous black & red walls—and the most gorgeous blonde ponytail barmaid. Like a Belgian Lotta, in tight green wool sweater and blue jeans over voluptuous bottom. On my last day in Brussels, I found Maes Corner closed, and in fact almost every shop in Brussels, too—is Day of the Dead a holiday here [yes]? I had two in O’Reilly’s, walked past the Metropole and the Cheshire Cheese Café, found the Dome Café also closed, then after one in some tiny sidestreet bar, and after much deliberation, I returned to Ciné Paris. The two rooms are big and clean, the seats very new and comfortable, the screens big and the picture perfect—quite the nicest kino I have been in. The French porn films are high quality, and I found myself becoming highly aroused. When a very old man sat down next to me and tried twice to touch me, I had to knock his hand away both times not because I did not want it, but his touch brought me to the edge of glory both times. He left, disappointed, though I did not want him to. I think I could easily make a home here in the Paris. It was the most erotic moment of the whole trip, far more than anything with Angelica in Club 77 or Christina in Brussels. I think I will have to return to the Soho cabins and Fantasy Videos in London. I am ready to have hands on me again. I think the barmaid’s boyfriend is at the fruit machine, she goes back to him whenever not busy. After a day of blazing blue skies, I was shocked to come out of the cinema, quivering, taking time to compose myself in the alleyway, to find it was raining! I take this as omen that I had at last found my answer in this holiday—it is back in the cinemas. I returned to Midi happy, feeling warm pleasure in my loins, and now pass the time here in the Orient Express.
October 21, 2016 §
So I have had my hours of erotic exploration, here amidst the fronds and ferns of tropical palmhouse Brussels and Berlin with soot on the leaves, but there has been nothing to compare with watching ….. and …. one after the other on stage at the ——- on the Thursday night before I travelled. The only good memory is the minute of the Miosotis and Nadine Jansen film I watched in the Rosa Luxemburg sex kabins in Berlin. I discovered the second cinema here in Brussels, the Cine Paris, and they seem to show high quality French porn, Marc Dorcel and Private or similar level of smut, compared to the ugly 1970s porn that the ABC relentlessly purveys.