November 19, 2017 §
A real epiphany last night, and again on Wednesday, when everything reminded me of Wien Westbahnhof. We grow beautiful out of our longing. The greatest highs of my life have been those midnight trams in Vienna around the Gurtel to get to ML Revue, or those walks from the Intercity to Atlantic City, or those walks from the Berlin Plaza to the Berlin Erotic Centre or Sarah Young, or that midnight tram from the Gare du Midi up to the Gare du Nord and trying again to find the right exit. Lust suddenly suffuses my whole body. I become so nervous and so excited. In Europe you have dirty experiences. The ONLY time I get close to that in London is when I go to Sunset Cinema, and some man comes in with a girl, and that is so exciting, and then when I am ready, I leave there with my swollen cock rolling in my trousers from side to side like a ship in a storm, just around the corner to Demi or to Pamela. That always feels so dirty. Once September comes I will allow myself this again. As the nights get dark so early. Save my money for October, once the clocks go back! That is why I call November 1st Volcanic Night! I do not think I find Simon Boccanegra interesting enough as an opera to go all the way to Hamburg to see Prokina in it. I’d rather spend all that money the train would cost on sex in Berlin. I would like to see Urmana in the Mort de Cleopatra though. What to do, Munich & Vienna first, or Brussels & Berlin? NOTHING THAT HAPPENS AT WORK CAN POSSIBLY AFFECT ME. I LIVE FOR WRITING AND FOR TRAVELLING. I AM LIKE A GHOST AT WORK. THUNDER! A dirty, black, thundery, raining evening.
December 31, 2016 §
So no, I did not manage to crack the Vienna nut, and never will now. There feels nothing here for me. I have not found even one, or two places, to make me feel at home here. The hotel meal was poor and the Augustinerkeller meal was even worse. A relief to grab a McDonald’s from Westbahnhof on my way back tonight. I did manage to find my way to Fortuna Kino in Favoritenstraße. At last, a good old-fashioned adult cinema, and a good Italian film. I think Italian pornography is the best. At last, finally, I managed to sustain a full erection. It took me three nights to even manage a proper erection—that says it all. The Gurtel was meant to be the biggest red light district in Vienna, and back in the snow in 2005 I came down it and was going in one club after another, they never seemed to end. And to find the only place where I slept with a girl in Vienna totally gone, an empty lot where it used to be, was particularly disspiriting, and is really a great symbol of how pointless this trip now feels. As much as I love this hotel, I will never come to Vienna again. Good riddance, they cry!
December 30, 2016 §
The Menzelstraße peepshow was miserable, but next to it was a shoe shop which had so many boots which I thought —– would like, and that is what I am excited about returning to. Doesn’t that show how I am changing? I get more pleasure out of doing something that might make —– pleased than anything else; than any of my old delights. I remember in February 2005 when I went to Vienna in thick snow, and I walked down the Gurtel from top to bottom, and there were so many places to go into (all rubbish but still), one after the other, till I finally settled in Pour Platin and Maria. But now, have they all gone? It seems like. It really does. Or maybe I am not going far enough up. This is how the ice retreats, until there is almost none left.
December 30, 2016 §
It will be a shame if I have to cross Vienna off of my list. I love just being in this city, this city that Karl Kraus used to walk in, Schoenberg, Berg and Webern used to walk in. I love this hotel. But if there is nowhere I feel comfortable at night, there is no point spending so much money to come here. The hotel food was poor, I am afraid. The meat was fine but the onion rings on top of it were not so much fried as fossilised. They must have been fried hours or days ago and just sprinkled on top. Totally dry and crispy and desiccated. The roast potatoes were fine, but the tomato was a miniature little baby tomato, and that was it. Nothing to compare with the Brussels Grill steak or the Berlin Bavarium steak. A great shame. I feel totally not turned on now; no erotic urge at all. I might as well be back in London. Perhaps I am just too old and bored of this way of life now, and I need to face it is over. I was more turned on in Berlin, certainly. There were 2 or 3 bars on the other side of the Gurtel as I was coming down last night which should be investigated; but experience tells me that they may be sparklingly lit with neon lights and look really enticing from the outside, but once inside there is just one mediocre girl sitting there talking to the barman and that is it. How I yearn for a good old-fashioned warm strip club like Atlantic City in Munich. Just something simple and easy like that; is that too much to ask for?
December 29, 2016 §
Well, all the excitement of my arrival in Vienna yesterday morning has gone. Here in the hotel bar on the second afternoon I feel no excitement. Quite a miserable night. It was my fault, of course: I started drinking at 12 midday, unable to control my excitement, so by 5pm I was already fucked (metaphorically only). I forced myself to struggle on to 8 to try to find something to do but in vain. I was shocked to find Pour Platin—where I lost my Vienna virginity—gone. I mean it is not just closed still, and dark; or not just taken over by a different business; I mean the entire lot has been knocked down. A huge gap in the Gurtel where it used to be, and 50 yards back in the distance, the backs of the houses in the next street. It is like in Star Wars when they come out of hyperspace to find Alderaan gone, just an asteroid storm of rubble where it used to be. There is just bits of rubble where Pour Platin used to be. This is very upsetting to me. Pour Platin gave me my one great night in Vienna, back in 2005. It is still the only time I have ever made love in Vienna. Practically the entire left side of the Gurtel is a wasteland. The Erotic Peep Show on the corner of Menzelstraße was appalling, none of the kabins worked properly, the buttons unusable. I walked all the way back down and the only other place was the Laufhaus 599 which had no one worth seeing. So that was my night in Vienna. I think I am going to have to force myself to seek further afield, away from the Gurtel, to the places I crossed off of my list before leaving home. We will see if this trip can be rescued.
August 4, 2016 §
I can only write about my experience. I cannot write about Merkel, or Bild, or Portugal bankruptcy. I can only write about walking around the Gurtel, or crossing the corner of Schillerstraße, or rounding Olivaer Platz. This is my unique experience. I shake my experience for meaning. I analyse everything that happens to me and all my feelings. Everything I do is an experiment that I carry out in order to yield results.