November 14, 2017 §
I want to write books the like of which have never been seen before. Journals of a man subsumed in a life of emptiness and nothingness, but who revels in and gorges himself on this emptiness and nothingness, like a mother eating her own placenta. Journals about the visceral pleasure in detachment of an autistic person. About transcendency, about finding lenses that enable one to focus all the rays of this emptiness and nothingness like a magnifying glass used to focus the rays of the sun to start a fire, like the mirror that Orphée steps through to enter the Underworld, and then the transcendency flares into life like a white phosphorescent explosion, and one orgies in the transcendency, in the sublime orgasmic detachment from everything and everyone around you, in the supreme quality of emptiness and nothingness stretched to the nth degree like a taut violin string that is at any moment about to break but never quite does; what exquisite pleasure is then to be found. If Guy Debord’s view of life was to seek the perfect point of inebriation, mine is to locate the perfect point of transcendental orgasmic detachment. The nights I would go to the Coliseum and have to creep in the darkness to the gentleman’s toilets and furiously masturbate so aroused was I. The nights at the opera in Berlin, when I had to leave at the interval in search of Kant and cunt, so highly-strung and aroused had I become. It is possible to take an aesthetic appreciation in fine pornography, fine aids to arousal and ejaculation; indeed it is impossible not to. The night in Munich I had to leave Strauss’s Arabella in desperate race back to Schiller and Goethe. It was Karl Kraus who said a woman can sometimes be an acceptable substitute for masturbation, but that it requires an awful lot of imagination.When I think of all the brief connections I have made this year with women, —–, Melani, Amanda, Pamela, Olga, I can say that not one of them gave me an iota of the pleasure that I felt when the woman in the cinema let the men crowd around her with their cocks out, and let me wrap her hair around my cock to masturbate with in the dark. Transgression is not only possible, but beautiful. I would go further. Transgression is not only beautiful, it is essential. The double life is absolutely essential in order to save one’s life.
November 28, 2016 §
In such a small area of Brussels are all the places I love: Hotel le Dôme, Brussels Grill, Hotel Max, Ciné ABC, Ciné Paris, McDonald’s, Gascogne, (California now gone), Empire strip club. And a very short walk north is Gare du Nord and the window girls, the beautiful Esmeraldas of the Rue d’Aerschot. (A very short walk south will bring you to the Hotel Metropole (last of the great 19th century hotels still existing in Brussels), La Monnaie, the Bourse, O’Reilly’s Irish pub, American Guest Bar). Brussels does not have enough to recommend it on its own, but it is great to spend a first night there before getting the train across Europe to somewhere else, or, even better, to spend a last night here on the way home from somewhere else. It is great to be watching pornography in the city of Horta.
November 26, 2016 §
Lulu was a massive disappointment. It sucked 2 hours out of my night (I left at the first interval) and I never got the excitement back try as I might. Ciné ABC and Ciné Paris were both great. The 1970s hairy pornography of the ABC followed by the Marc Dorcel high-class erotica of the Paris. I should have stayed. Leaving Lulu, I headed straight to Gare du Nord. The window girls of the Rue d’Aerschot are the most beautiful Esmeraldas I have ever seen in my life. Every one of them is like supermodel or actress beautiful. Just the environment is so shabby and threatening! In Berlin sex is everywhere but they have no girls as beautiful as this; but the environment is much nicer. Nice art nouveau bars you can sit with the girls in first. From there back to Empire. Empire is a really mediocre strip club, with mediocre girls. Similar to Munich’s Atlantic City but the Atlantic City always has 2 or 3 real stars; not here at the Empire. And each small beer costs 10 euros! The one great and clever thing they do is not charge you to enter. This is so sensible—it makes it easy to drop in and check out what the place is like. Gascogne should adopt this method, and they might not be empty every night.
October 23, 2016 §
So the best memories of this trip—the Nadine Jansen films in Rosa Luxemburg kino and the Ciné Paris. That says it all. He just sits there slapping that fruit machine button like a retard. I will return to Soho cinema at the first opportunity, and check out Alex, Vanessa, and Katy. I have three days more off in London. The boyfriend might even be the manager. He certainly takes a quite proprietorial attitude to the place, and to her. Still the slap-slap-slap. Does he do this from opening time to closing time? This bar would be absolutely lovely without that idiot at the machines. The other best memories are the new paintings I saw in the Berlinische and the Brohan Museums.