For me the only travelling that is worth anything is travelling alone

January 4, 2017 § 1 Comment

For me the only travelling that is worth anything is travelling alone; which makes things difficult for those in a relationship. Only in the loneliness and the silence do your thoughts come out like bats at night. If you are with someone the noise of your constant chatter scares your thoughts away and they remain out of sight in the shadows, unknown. Like a firefly they live for such a short time, glimmer so brightly then expire, and are gone forever. You must be ready to harvest them at a second’s notice, without delay, lest a single one be lost. Because my thoughts seem so valuable! When I am gone I expect they will build libraries just filled with my writings; all my original notebooks and manuscripts will be pored over by philologists of the future.
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To write I have to be in extremis. In intense solitude, loneliness, despair, isolation

September 22, 2016 § Leave a comment

To write I have to be in extremis. In intense solitude, loneliness, despair, isolation. That is why I keep travelling. I am piling up a mountain of debt, dancing on the volcano, by continuing to go back to Berlin and Vienna, time after time. I am loading —– and me with such a financial timebomb. I miss feeling like a sexual instrument, a finely tuned violin, my strings quivering at every slightest erotic stimulus. Every breath of wind made me quiver with lustful pleasure. Reading Lotta, I remember how much I fell in love with her. An 18 year old Swedish blonde girl, with big breasts. I wanted her so much. Amazing to think that was nine years ago, and she is now 27, probably married with kids. Just ships that passed in the night. Writing is my life. As are —–, and strippers. “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” I was alive then, but in such pain and despair. I am calm and content now, but feel less alive.

As the train arrows its way out of London I do get a strong feeling that this is what I want to be doing and what I want to be doing for the rest of my life

September 10, 2016 § Leave a comment

As the train arrows its way out of London, I do get a strong feeling that this is what I want to be doing, and what I want to be doing for the rest of my life. Constantly travelling is what my life must be; not living in a marriage. It is only the depth of my love for —– that has delayed me making this break. Yes, this is what I want to do: travelling into emptiness, travelling into nothingness, travelling into solitude and anomie.

When you have nothing a little thing becomes everything

September 2, 2016 § Leave a comment

When you have nothing, a little thing becomes everything. However, when you have something, a little thing seems like nothing. How I miss the great days—that massive black Congolese cock in Brussels hotel toilet, the massive breasts of Martina in Nuremberg, epic amazing nights. This is the crux of my problem, and why I cannot enjoy the double life now. For it to be worthwhile, the old life has got to offer something extraordinary, and it never does, and perhaps never did. Only when you have nothing does everything in the gutter glitter like gold. Don’t I want the freedom of being free again? The cold icy air of total loneliness, total solitude, total despair? Maybe we should try it for a while—a trial separation. The trouble is I think I want to be the lonely old man staring into a pint in the pub every day. That has always seemed attractive to me. While creating my body of work that no one will ever read. Journals 1996-2007, and the others that follow.

For me writing is a thing of coldness, iciness, hardness, darkness, despair and solitude

June 8, 2016 § Leave a comment

For me writing is a thing of coldness, iciness, hardness, darkness, despair and solitude. I can only write as if I am still alone; sometimes, disturbingly, I wonder if I would not be better off if I was alone again, just so I could write like I used to. But that is madness. I wrote about my decades of loneliness, that has been done. I must write about my new reality now. Perhaps that means I must find a double life, in order to have something to write about—for having something to write about seems to me the only point of life.

I have become such a connoisseur of T & E (Tallulah & Esmeralda) that now only the finest will satisfy me

May 27, 2016 § Leave a comment

I have become such a connoisseur of T & E (Tallulah & Esmeralda) that now only the finest will satisfy me. I search in vain for that one special experience which eludes me almost permanently now it seems. There was maybe a couple more places in Brussels I could have gone, but I was aware that Berlin is to come, and Berlin is usually a better investment for one’s money. Travel is the most important thing but the reality of what I find in each city now disappoints me. It is still important for the quality of loneliness and solitude it provides me. For that it still feels worth its weight in gold. What was exotic has now become commonplace. Replacing exotic with erotic as you wish.

We should take the rough with the smooth and battle through, that is my feeling

May 26, 2016 § Leave a comment

We should take the rough with the smooth and battle through, that is my feeling. But she always chucked me when the going got tough, for —, for the ——-, for someone else last year I am sure, maybe now again because I have come to Brussels for three nights, despite her telling me to go. It is good to go away from someone you love for a while. To remind yourself how much you need them and how much you love them and how important they really are to you. But I never feel I can be really close to someone and always think she is going to leave me again. Loneliness and solitude are so important to me. They define who I am and in a very great degree define who I want to be. Without loneliness I lose myself. It may be this pressure will always push us apart and destroy us and mean we are not the right ones for each other. But I will always love her and need her more than anything else in the world. If she leaves me I will be an empty husk till the end of my days.

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