All that matters is my bleak books written in blood with blue hands in cold stoveless rooms around Europe

December 11, 2017 § Leave a comment

All that matters is my bleak books, written in blood, with blue hands in cold stoveless rooms around Europe. My studies in solipsism, the visceral pleasure in detachment of an autistic person. Autismus. Lotta & Sophia. The Cold Icy Air of the Mountains. Casanova. I have moved beyond —–, & Olga, and am free of them. Now the travelling starts again. To write my books in Brussels, Berlin, Munich and Vienna.

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“Berlioz’s unstinting lionisation of Beethoven in the pages of La Revue et Gazette Musicale de Paris, the most important and influential music journal in 19th-century France, also played a major role in establishing him at the centre of the repertory for the concert hall”

December 1, 2017 § Leave a comment

“Berlioz’s unstinting lionisation of Beethoven in the pages of La Revue et Gazette Musicale de Paris, the most important and influential music journal in 19th-century France, also played a major role in establishing him at the centre of the repertory for the concert hall.” In my journal, what would I write about, who would I lionise. I would lionise the Flying Scotsman, perhaps, and its dancers, extolling the virtues of Sylvia and —– and Janet above all others. Extolling them in messianic, apocalyptic, grandiose, diva-esque terms, like they are Sarah Bernhardts. Invoking Hungarian history. Giving reviews of their performances just the way one would with reviews of violinists or pianists. They are all on a stage, why not? Instead of one paragraph reviews of Anita Berber’s Bethanien or Marlene Dietrich’s grave, extend them into full page articles, enabling me to digress into talking about the Blue Angel, Lola, etc. Berber at the Romanisches Café, Tucholsky. It would be a journal devoted to the strip clubs of London, the pubs, to Berlin, and Vienna, and Brussels, and Munich. —–, from Brazil, has made Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie her own, Crazy her own, Check On It her own. Talk about them the way you would about great opera singers of the 1880s, from the stage side box. Write a magazine where on one page there is a review of Barbara Frittoli at the Wigmore Hall on Wednesday night, and on the facing page, a review of the Flying Scotsman on Thursday night, each with equal analysis. My reviews are scurrilous and scandalous, like my review of Irina Botan that got me into trouble, like James Ellroy, Charles Bukowski. Winter is coming. Remember those cold icy days when I first moved in here? Remember the excitement of those Astral nights? Missing in Action Painter film? The unable to breathe shaking with excitement as I headed down the steps not knowing what I was about to see? Remember that unbelievably huge breasted beautiful Czech girl at the Boulevard? It is almost like a dream. I cannot believe I witnessed something so spectacularly sexy as her and made so little of it. If only I knew where she was now.

I love the scientific analysis of my life like Nietzsche. In Nietzschean numbered paragraphs. Like the Rhine Zeitung newspaper articles of Karl Marx

November 30, 2017 § Leave a comment

I love the scientific analysis of my life, like Nietzsche. In Nietzschean numbered paragraphs. Like the Rhine Zeitung newspaper articles of Karl Marx. Like the Die Fackel magazine articles of Karl Kraus. Apocalyptic, messianic, satirical. All of them supposed to have some Jewish blood in them, as I have Irish blood in me. This is not possible when I have drink in my head all the time. It is also true, that some of the high moments of my life have come in the Astral Cinema and the Boulevard Cinema and the Sunset Cinema. Remember that big mullet haired guy who pulled his shorts down all the way to his ankles & sat there with a tube of soap or vaseline, regularly applying it to his cock in the Astral. Remember Red Riding Hood night when I sat for six hours in the front row of New till I was raw & practically passing out from the smoky, fuggy, sticky, lubricious atmosphere and when I finally left I crossed deserted Leicester Square in the lashing rain. Remember black dress Kay in the front row of Sunset sitting completely naked as black man put his huge dick in her mouth, businessman with trousers round ankles put condom on & fucked her, before “monicering” her over her tits, all the time while she stroked my cock with her hand. Remember red bra girl in the Sunset. Not to mention the highs I have reached in Berlin Erotic Centre, or Sarah Young, or Atlantic City or Sexyland kabins, or ML Revue cabins, or the Brussels Gare du Nord cabins. M—– said she wanted to go with me to the opera & I stayed away from her. Pamela hinted she would like to go to the seaside with me & I stayed away from her. —– said she wanted to go out with me & on that Madonna Hung Up and Beyonce Check On It night, when G—- thanked me for the postcard, I let her go. I do not want to go out with girls. Going out with Chess Goddess and Lotta were horrible stressful experiences and like Jason Bourne I was checking sightlines and looking for exits the whole time. The happy, magical nights I have had in the crowded bearpits of Sunset Strip, Gold Dress Gold Shoes girl on The Beast December night, Jolanda Red Right Hand, or Flying Scotsman Sex on the Beach, Sylvia Walpurgis Night, Tais Lola, Janet Material Girl, or Atlantic City. And they are only any good when they are crowded bearpits. Remember how crowded the Atlantic City cinema used to get when the girl came on to strip just once an hour? They are only good when the men are screaming at the girl on stage as like beasts in the menagerie. Yes, it will be too soon to go back to Vienna but the thrill of being in Vienna in December…? Yes, I do not want to go back to the drunken, tiring Flying Scotsman but it is very special to see —– dancing to Shakira or Gnarls Barkley…? Afterwards I could come back to Charing Cross on the 91 and then get a 176 up to Tottenham Court Road tube to walk down to Sunset Cinema. I will start to allow myself every Saturday off as my Hogarthian night. My Rake’s Progress night. My Frank Wedekind night.

I lead a strange existence. I read and write for a couple of hours then sleep for a couple of hours

November 30, 2017 § Leave a comment

I lead a strange existence. I read and write for a couple of hours, then sleep for a couple of hours. Listen to some classical music for an hour, then read & write some more, then sleep some more.

I have almost forgotten what it is like to sleep at night. I just lie there and stare at the ceiling and have to give up

November 27, 2017 § Leave a comment

I have almost forgotten what it is like to sleep at night. I just lie there and stare at the ceiling and have to give up. I love to be awake all night reading or writing while the world is quiet. Days are noisy and full of people, so it is a pleasure to sleep through them. It is cheaper that way, too. This “loan” I have taken out of £6,000 is vital to pay for my travels which gives me my vital observations which go to form my books. You have to speculate to accumulate. To dare is to do.

The pleasure of travelling around Europe by train is so great even if I’m lonely because when I am lonely I write the most. It is Nietzsche in cold stoveless rooms

November 23, 2017 § Leave a comment

The pleasure of travelling around Europe by train is so great, even if I’m lonely, because when I am lonely I write the most. It is Nietzsche in cold stoveless rooms writing with blue hands, while weeping, writing in blood. That is what I like best. So what I owe £6,000. You cannot take it with you. I might as well live intensely for the next few years while the rausch is on me. I am inclined to go to Berlin in January for La Traviata and Carmina Burana. That will mean I should go to Munich and Vienna at the end of October, to pull into Munich Hauptbahnhof in the dark at 7 o’clock at night and walk into the Intercity, for a couple of beers from the minibar, shower, couple of beers down in the bar, before rounding the corner into Atlantic City. The next day I can enjoy the gorgeous Lamm’s and that night maybe go to Nuremberg coming back for 6:30 breakfast. So Thursday get Eurostar to Brussels Radisson SAS, few drinks in bar, up to Empire and Gare du Nord. Next lunchtime to Munich. Saturday night in Nuremberg and Sunday lazing in Munich? or train to Vienna? Monday night arrive in Vienna for some drinks from minibar then Dorint bar, then Seilerstätte. Next night Pour Platin and ML Revue. Yes, Munich and Vienna in end of October, save Berlin for January. That will give me all of November and December, another 8 weeks, to save for Berlin. Munich more than anywhere is really the City in the Autumn Stars. It even has a Rosenstraße! Maybe I could buy some new boots. I am really going to enjoy myself this autumn in Munich and Vienna. Still, before I go, I would like to return at least once to Sunset Cinema and then to see Demi and Pamela. This time I will take some pictures in Munich at night. I am going to really absorb myself in Munich and draw out of it as much as I can this time.

My fourth book of travel journals THE MORNING AFTER (2005) now available in Paperback and Kindle

November 23, 2017 § Leave a comment

MORNING

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