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 4, 2016 §
Making my freedom within my marriage; make a bubble of freedom protected by a force field within the marriage. A bubble in which I can breathe completely freely—for as long as she still puts up with me (miracle that she does). I think my freedom will come starting in afternoon pubs, 1230, 1pm, the absolute joy of my life. Plenty of time to be free and still be home in time for the wife, or turn it into an all night if ever necessary—having built up a bit of steam and momentum and in that state being capable of anything. My strategy for finding some workable double life for myself must be carefully thought out. There are times when I have felt close to the edge and thought I must let the marriage go, in order to find the freedom I feel I need. A useful analogy would be having to sleep at night with the windows closed, when I can only sleep with windows open. In the end I feel like I am going to explode with frustration because I cannot sleep and have to get up and throw them open, to the noise and traffic and revellers—then I can relax. Marriage feels like having to sleep with the windows closed, but then at times you feel cold and really need the warmth that marriage provides. But usually I need fresh air, and it would be perfect if I can find the fresh air I need within the marriage, without having to lose the marriage. I offer her fresh air, too, but she prefers closed rooms. I offer her freedom she does not want. She wants to be in all day waiting for me then if I don’t come straight home gets upset. I would rather she went out and did things with her friends somewhere to give me more freedom and breathing space. I think this would keep the spark and romance in our affair—but the thought I don’t want to be with her every single minute makes her very sad and feel that I do not love her. Because I love her and want to keep that love fresh and alive, and blooming and blossoming, I think we should spend more time doing things alone or with other people. So we start to miss each other and then can really enjoy come back together and seeing each other again. “Our set up is sweet, there isn’t a catch. The secret is living semi-detached”. Her conception of a relationship is very different. It remains to be seen if we can survive. I think when I am with her I must give her my absolute all, care, devotion, tenderness, passion, and then when I want to be alone I must do that to the utmost as well, and enjoy my moments of freedom to the nth degree. Thus I wonder if a balance can be achieved. A double life can be found and made to work. The Marriage of Helen & Faustus can go on, and indeed bloom and blossom. It is steadfastly refusing to bud at the moment as if it is not getting the sunlight it needs, like the flowers and ferns in our house. If we moved to a higher floor, they would get the light they need to flourish, and I feel our marriage would be the same, if we could lift it onto another level—where the sunshine could flood in.
September 3, 2016 §
Long distance travel only works when you have no one at home waiting for you. These days drinking and thinking seem like all I really need. If there is a naked girl on stage while I’m doing it, all the better. I would never turn my back on — & —. I’ll always be at the end of the phone line if they ever wanted it. Maybe I want to be a figure of mystery again. Two in the Nelson and two in the Waiting Room—as if I am resisting the ——– as much as I can. A kind of repulsion. A permanent Kings of Leon soundtrack helps. The terrible thing is I feel I have to leave —— to return feeling to my life. I respect a man who brings two beers for himself and sits down with a newspaper and drinks them. I respect the lonely people. Is there anything more annoying than getting hiccups when you are drinking? Why not stop being sad, and lead a life of total freedom as if you are free—and let her decide what she wants to do? Rearrange my mind. She is always my missing half. And always will be.
September 2, 2016 §
I can only be alone, I think. I love her, and will love her till the day I die, but I can only be alone, and can only make her unhappy when I’m with her. J.G. Farrell water turning to hard ice, causing such sadness to the women who tried to love him. The price of the man is the head of the artist, as Munch thought. As Nial F says, you can’t mix work and marriage. You have to give up too much. Ah now Sex on Fire. I can only be free when I don’t have a home to go to. When we split up, every sight of her will become so thrilling, I will swoon, like before. I love her more than anything in the world, and yet I love my complete freedom–I don’t know how to put the two things together. This is the tragedy of me and —–. Use Somebody, oh all those amazing trips to Southend. Don’t I need to split up, so I can miss her again?
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.
June 11, 2016 §
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.