There is just a basic primal thrill to be sitting in a dark cinema with your swollen cock out

January 1, 2017 § Leave a comment

There is just a basic primal thrill to be sitting in a dark cinema with your swollen cock out, surrounded by other men all with their cocks out. There is nothing quite like it for raw nervous excitement.

Cold grey bleak northern France gives way to cold grey bleak southern England

November 28, 2016 § Leave a comment

Cold, grey, bleak northern France gives way to cold, grey, bleak southern England. I look forward to BEC in December, my hot swollen —- keeping me warm as I head up to Stuttgarter Platz. My Rabelaisian, Casanovan wanderings around Europe resume. Kent has never looked so beautiful to me as it does now. How empty most of it is.

In a porn cinema the dividing line between gay and straight blurs and it is very dark in there as well

October 20, 2016 § Leave a comment

In a porn cinema the dividing line between gay and straight blurs, and it is very dark in there as well; this is something “normal” people don’t understand. How in that intensely sexualised environment, when you are so so aroused it does not matter whose hand is on your cock, male or female, or whose mouth. This does not mean you are gay. I even once went to a several hours long appointment at a psychiatric hospital, and they finally concluded that they thought I was homosexual, because I seemed quite ‘effeminate’. I finished with the psychiatric profession on that day and knew I had to make it on my own—but that meant devoting myself to Tallulah and Esmeralda for good, and not looking back.

The Turk has always been an undercurrent in my life

September 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

The Turk has always been an undercurrent in my life: be it Thomas Rowlandson’s Sultan paintings, to the Pummerin in Vienna’s St Stephen’s, Das Entfuhrung aus dem Serail in Berlin, my favourite two female guests at the hotel, Confessions of an English Opium Eater where De Quincey is obsessed with the Turk, the blonde newsreader I was enjoying so much on TV last night, Ayeesha the Esmeralda in Soho who let me stay with her even though I had no more money, as we talked and talked. I wonder if the Turk will ever move centre stage in my life. Why is it so pleasurable to scratch an itch? For the whole journey to Cologne I have the urge to get my cock out. A young flaxen-haired girl has sat in our lounge after Aachen. I want to ——– all over her.

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Will I ever know the real sexual rampancy of before?

September 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

Will I ever know the real sexual rampancy of before? The Night of the Snow in Munich when I was so high on sexual lust for Patricia, then Emily. The nights when I was out of my head with lust for Yulia, Riccarda, Iga, Diana in Berlin? Martina in Nuremburg? Can I ever rediscover those nights? Can I ever fall in love again the way I did with Susi, Viktoriya, Iga, Irina, all those girls? I had so many legendary nights, 2002, 2003, 2004. I can scarcely believe they happened. The complete primacy of the cock. I want to live that life again.

When you have nothing a little thing becomes everything

September 2, 2016 § Leave a comment

When you have nothing, a little thing becomes everything. However, when you have something, a little thing seems like nothing. How I miss the great days—that massive black Congolese cock in Brussels hotel toilet, the massive breasts of Martina in Nuremberg, epic amazing nights. This is the crux of my problem, and why I cannot enjoy the double life now. For it to be worthwhile, the old life has got to offer something extraordinary, and it never does, and perhaps never did. Only when you have nothing does everything in the gutter glitter like gold. Don’t I want the freedom of being free again? The cold icy air of total loneliness, total solitude, total despair? Maybe we should try it for a while—a trial separation. The trouble is I think I want to be the lonely old man staring into a pint in the pub every day. That has always seemed attractive to me. While creating my body of work that no one will ever read. Journals 1996-2007, and the others that follow.

I miss the old complete freedom. But I had complete freedom in Brussels and Berlin and was miserable all the time

June 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

I miss the old complete freedom. But I had complete freedom in Brussels and Berlin and was miserable all the time. There is a purity to being completely alone, in cold air and icy mountains. So perhaps I just have to mix the two. Thomas Mann was a gay man trapped in a conventional marriage but he loved his wife so much. Gustav von Aschenbach was a gay man trapped in a conventional marriage but he loved his wife so much. Oscar Wilde was a gay man trapped in a conventional marriage but he loved his wife so much. I am not gay. I just like to live the life of the cock. Pure Priapism. Pornography and Prostitution, every day, every minute. It is not going away. Writing, drinking, classical music, ferns, pornography and prostitution. This is purity. Marriage is not. Marriage is clogging everything up, imprisoning.

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