November 8, 2016 §
“I have become a fat blob, like Oscar Wilde. The fact the bars of Munich that offer nothing have survived, when the bars of Berlin and Vienna that offer everything have been wiped out, is so counter-intuitive that I cannot think of anything else. Men want the anticipation, and the frustration, more than the resolution, and the consummation? These are troubling times that we live in, Jerram.” “Yet then why do you spend all your nights and money in the Scotsman, which offers ‘nothing’ as you put it, when the Soho whores offer you everything for £20?” “I have no answer, but the answer that’s me. I don’t want Esmeraldas who I can pay to sleep with. I would rather seduce Tallulahs to me, maybe that is it. When do you hear a really great song? It is getting more and more rare. How often do you meet a stripper you want to sleep with? That is getting more and more rare as well. Is it our age, or the Age we live in, that is the question.” “What you mean is, was a young man who was fucking his way through the 1870s, was he already jaded and disappointed by the 1880s? Fucking his way through the 1920s already jaded by the 1930s? Fucking his way through the 1970s, already jaded by the 1980s?” “Yes,” said Edward, staring into his Spaten beer. “That is exactly what I mean. I have to react viciously, in order to obtain the freedom that I want. I don’t feel viciously, but I have to enact it. But I cannot. So it goes on.”
November 8, 2016 §
The waitresses at Rechthaler Hof are all, to a woman, white or silver haired, so one does not come here for the “crumpet”. Just for the gorgeous food and cold Spaten beer, and peace and quiet to be alone, to think and write. Lamm’s was my favourite bar here in Munich, but sadly that has gone, so I fall back on the Rechthaler Hof.
September 28, 2016 §
All there is to life is travelling, and preparing to travel. London is just a waiting room. It is dead for me now otherwise; it is of value only as a waiting room. There is nowhere for me to go in this city anymore. Even the ——– is so miserable. Yet I was miserable in Munich’s Atlantic City and Sexyland, miserable in every place I went in Frankfurt, and miserable in Brussels Empire. The greatest pleasures were the meals I had in Munich Rechthaler Hof and Brussels Grill.