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.
December 28, 2016 §
Freezing cold air therefore turns me on. It brings back such strong memories of those nights in snowy Berlin, snowy Munich (the ‘night of the snow’ when Patricia told me that Bella Rosa loved me, and in shock I went to Emily who ran a cotton wool bud dipped in champagne around the head of my manhood; incredible, extraordinary memories!), snowy Vienna, searching for Tingel Tangels and Go Go Bars. The legendary night in Vienna exploring the whole western side of the Gurtel in thick snow and treacherous ice when I must have slipped over at least 20 times as the doormen watched me impassively. Every place a disappointment until I got back to where I started, and ended the night in Pour Platin next to my hotel, and finally lost my Vienna virginity to the amazing 10/10 brunette Maria.
December 12, 2016 §
The building on the corner of Berwick Street and Peter Street I used to see Siberian Olga (and Romanian Lela) in and sit with her on Saturday nights drinking vodka with as she decided which customers to open the door to, is now gone; a new building gone up in its place and occupied by a bike shop, with perhaps some aptness, I don’t know. The building opposite the Red Lion (where Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels were tasked to write the Communist Manifesto at the second Congress of the Communist League in 1847) where I used to see Spanish Ana Maria is now gone, and still remains just a hole in the ground, which may also have some aptness. The Astral Adult Cinema in Brewer Street (the first pornographic cinema I ever went to) is gone. The Carnival Striptease in Old Compton Street (the second strip club I ever went to) is gone. The Boulevard Striptease (third strip club I ever went to) in Brewer’s Court is going next month apparently. Already at my young age I have lost so many of the places where I had my erotic education. As the Soho places closed down, I spread my wings (to use a euphemism) to Europe, and even there my treasured places are mostly gone. Stutti Frutti where I lost my Berlin virginity to Yulia in that black Rennie Mackintosh bedroom with the four poster bed, Mon Cheri where I fell in love/longing with Riccarda in the same claustrophobic room, Golden Gate where I fell in love/longing with Iga, Hanky Panky, Starlight, have all gone. In Vienna, Pour Platin where I lost my Vienna virginity to Maria (still my only Vienna consummation), is gone. In London these places are really over for me. In Berlin and Vienna at least there are still plenty of other places to try.
July 7, 2016 §
The three days of exquisite masturbation in Vienna in 2001 on the way to Oslo are a legend of my life. I don’t know what came over me. Well I do, and that was the strange thing, instead of catching myself in a tissue or my underwear I laid back and let it come all over my stomach and chest, time and time again. I have never done that before or since. It was a mixture of the black psychotic despair I travelled with combined with the sinful seductiveness in the Vienna air, I think. It was a combustible mixture and it was just set off. The days with Lotta & Sophia are a legend of my life. Maria in Pour Platin is a legend of my life. I feel like just going ahead and booking my April flight now and done with it. Despair and hopelessness are the vital ingredients for a true eroticism I think. Perhaps I need —— to leave me before I will ever know true erotic pleasure again. The pain and despair of that will overwhelm anything I have ever felt before. I want to really wallow in that pain and despair again. Am I really prepared to let —— go to do that? Perhaps better if I go to Vienna as soon as possible so I can answer a question to myself–provoke the crisis now, and now see what comes out of the crisis. There needs to be an explosion and a reordering. Perhaps when the smoke clears she will be gone, then I will be alone for the rest of my life.