Go into Brussels like pulling into a great palmhouse, gigantic tropical ferns and trees and butterflies all around me

November 17, 2017 § Leave a comment

Go into Brussels like pulling into a great palmhouse, gigantic tropical ferns and trees and butterflies all around me. A steaming primordial paradise. With soot on the leaves. Let it become an overheated, closed, hothouse. Go into Munich the same way. Go into Vienna the same way. The more poor I became the more I travelled miserably, to Empire, Atlantic City, Pour Platin, Golden Gate. When you are happy people are attracted to you like to a magnet & you have great times. As I get poorer, I become more miserable & only have bad times. How happy I will feel when I reduce my Barclaycard to zero! The long project starts here.
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I live for classical music and dirtiness and tropical ferns. I am wicked and decadent

November 11, 2017 § Leave a comment

I live for classical music, and dirtiness, and tropical ferns. I am wicked, and decadent.

I CENTRE MYSELF AROUND THE CALCUTTA, THE MIDNIGHT BELL—THESE ARE MY CAFÉ CENTRAL AND GRIENSTEIDL, THESE ARE MY ROMANISCHES CAFÉ

November 7, 2017 § Leave a comment

I CENTRE MYSELF AROUND THE CALCUTTA, THE MIDNIGHT BELL—THESE ARE MY CAFÉ CENTRAL AND GRIENSTEIDL, THESE ARE MY ROMANISCHES CAFÉ—AND KARL KRAUS. AROUND MY CITADEL, WITH ITS TROPICAL FERNS, ITS WORKS OF ART ON THE WALLS, ITS BIRGIT NILSSON, ITS ELENA PROKINA. I DO NOT NEED TO GET A NEW BETTER PAID JOB, BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT TO TRAVEL ANYMORE. AROUND THE QUEEN ELIZABETH HALL AND THE PURCELL ROOM AND THE WIGMORE HALL.

I no longer care if my infection gets cured or not

January 22, 2017 § Leave a comment

I no longer care if my infection gets cured or not; I just want to be left alone with my classical music, my ferns, and my lamps.

I feel a turning point has been reached this very night, this very moment. I feel an overwhelming desire to go on holiday with —–

January 19, 2017 § Leave a comment

I feel a turning point has been reached this very night, this very moment. I feel an overwhelming desire to go on holiday with —–, lots of holidays. Madeira was my happiest memory in life. This is the state of grace I want to live in. Now I want to fill my time with Alban Berg, Anton Webern, Arnold Schoenberg, with ferns, ferns, ferns all around me, French Windows open to the hot summer blue skies and butterflies and bumblebees chasing each other in and out, until I can get back to white beaches and clear blue seas with —–. “Heady nights of mostly late romantic music”, sultry days in London pubs sheltering from the thunder & lightning, and the torrential summer downpours, as day turns into night in the lashing winds, and buses and Charing Cross Road bookshops glow bright yellow in the Stygian gloom as the afternoon storm rages. Writing my book, and loving —–. Spending Winters heading somewhere hot. Watching her in the underground jacuzzi as Cocteau watches Francine and Doudou painting. “Last night, lying in the studio, I was watching Francine and Doudou painting, and I reflected: ‘How cowardly of you to dare to complain! Here are the two human beings you love most. Nothing happens to be in their minds besides their work and their hope of pleasing you. Francine enjoys herself so seriously, so carefully. Doudou performs wonders without attaching any more importance to them than Francine to what she does.’ Sometimes I get up and go over to my desk, to correct mistakes that occur to me. Sailboats pass out at sea. These are priceless moments. A calm which many scorn because they do not possess it. A piece of good fortune I shall doubtless have to pay for. Consider my crises as a tax on that fortune.”

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Why do I feel so depressed and…scared tonight

January 18, 2017 § Leave a comment

Why do I feel so depressed, and…scared tonight. I think two days of wasteful excess on Thursday and Friday are responsible for this. I feel completely ugly and bloated now. Excess always goes straight to my face so everyone can see it. I feel everyone is against me now, at work, at home, in the street. Just a couple of unkind words are enough to plunge me into misery. It is perhaps merely a feeling of self-loathing which I project onto the faces of everyone around. I have passed a completely sober Saturday quietly at home, with my ferns and my classical music. “A heady night of mostly late romantic music by Berg, Schoenberg and Webern”. I feel the benefit of it now in my clear-headedness, and the easy flow of the ink from my pen, yet I am also crushingly aware of this awful, ugly, fat face. My wastefulness and foolishness are written all over it.

For me stripping and sex is just part of art; it fits in with paintings, classical music, theatre, opera

November 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

For me stripping and sex is just part of art; it fits in with paintings, classical music, theatre, opera, it is just part of the continuum. A great opera singer on a stage in florid and lurid make up, a great stripper on a stage in florid and lurid make up, a great whore opening the door in florid and lurid make up, great oil paintings, lush strings of an orchestra amidst ferns and fronds. It is all the same. And each one reminds me of the other. A perfect day would combine all of them together.

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