It's perfectly healthy to enjoy a bit of smut now & again (23rd Dec 1997)

It's perfectly healthy to enjoy a bit of smut now & again.

 

Live like Nero and Caligula (15th Dec 1997)

Live like Nero and Caligula, pleasuring myself. 

The waves of nothingness that come over me. 

"Reich stressed the importance of constant genital gratification": WR Mysteries of the Organism.

Just the naughtiness of Astral Cinema is so tempting! (7th Dec 1997)

Just the naughtiness of Astral Cinema is so tempting! I now hereby choose the alternative life!! I reject ---- Sorting Office, I choose the life, vitality, of Astral, Sunset Strip. That is all someone of my species can do. I'd rather be proud to be an autistic person, then permanently ashamed to be a pathetically inadequate social person. Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven. I came out and think I'm proud, I don't deserve to be sneered at all the time, so I will be proud. Stand proud in Astral with my cock out. Make the game my real life! 

Helmut Newton! Parade! Yellow shop. Beardsley, Venus masturbating her unicorns every morning!

 

 

Sex is good, sex is healthy (27th Nov 1997)

Sex is good, sex is healthy. Nothing erotic, and sexually stimulating is bad. The more erotic stimulation the better e.g. the Kinsey biography, the sensual, erotic, decadent Pre-Raphaelite Symbolists. Beautiful girls at Sunset and Boulevard: I like the sex dancers. Ruth St Denis inspired Egon Schiele. Anita Berber inspired Otto Dix. 

I've had a long erotic abstinence, but what have I gained? My brain being eaten away. 

EGON SCHIELE FREEDOM & RELIEF, no erotic repression. 

My Soho Cinema & Astral visit in September cleared the blockage and got me moving again. It is an injection of life blood, regular shots to keep the red blood hot & flowing, and the brain on the edge of illicit shame & stimulation, bubbling along: it helps my creativity. 

Pornography is my secret, shameful addiction: I've tried to break away from it several times. 

"Symbolism, the most literary, sensual, erotic, decadent (even degenerate and depraved), mysterious and melancholy movement in the whole history of art...The first room of the exhibition is full of these ideal creatures--Helen of Troy, Lilith, Mary Magdalene and The Beloved--all of the same kind, no matter who played painter, all of a brooding lubricity that unsettles a man schooled in sexual restraint and the belief that the lasciviousness of women is a fire of damp kindling." 

"She sees a connection between the Dracula of Bram Stoker's novel, and the mythical figure of the Wandering Jew. She also sees another link between the nocturnal Count and the Whitechapel serial killer Jack the Ripper. The Jack-Drac narrative, she writes, plays out a 'constellation of similar fears, raging from syphilis to alien invasion'. She also throws in homosexuality, feminism, decadence and imperial decline: something for everyone....Women can be bad and wicked in Gothic. Gothic is all about transgression, dealing with taboos." Why can't I visit Soho every week, like I did during the Grosz period? Looking at that picture of Talyn, I do want to go back, don't I? Astral & Sunset Strip. 

The biggest thing in my life is pornography. Philip Larkin had his pictures. Wagner had his erotic urges, which produced Tannhauser, Tristan & Isolde, etc. It is necessary fortnightly hygiene: Van Gogh did it. So I like sex films, that's the way it is. BACK TO BERLIN, 1890s, WITH A VENGEANCE!

Concentrate on the higher side of Oscar Wilde now (26th Nov 1997)

Concentrate on the higher side of Oscar Wilde now. They foam & froth, and try to punish me because I'm different. I remain their superior, with blithe disregard for their small, petty desperations. I'm beautiful, I'm a dark angel, that's why I can go to Astral and do what I want. Don't drink though. I do want Astral again, and I do want Sunset Strip. It is Christmas.

Enigma - Principles Of Lust

Jacqueline Bisset in a white T-shirt in The Deep (24th Nov 1997)

Jacqueline Bisset in a white T-shirt in The Deep, that's why I go to Soho Cinema & Astral. 

My chest is nervous, and gripped with tension, and excitement, because I'm going back to Astral & pub. Keep earning a bit more money and keep on going to London. Just that. I'm a sleazy person, in Berlin, that's the way it is. 

To lose myself in Astral for a full 5 hours, what a luxury! 

H.C.'s pink lace stare (so like Nana) will always remind me of dark black windy September afternoon, 1992, when I first went down Dean Street. I will always go back because of that. Sex is all there is to life: Soho Cinema/Astral/Sunset/Boulevard: I will remain in Soho permanently: that is what I work for.

Now I wish I'd gone to see Floria Tosca (23rd Nov 1997)

Now I wish I'd gone to see Floria Tosca (I prefer to think of it like that), sitting at the back of the balcony in my usual seat, seeing my gods from a respectful distance, my angels: but there was no one in F.Tosca I was mad about. But I should have gone all the same.

I can go to Sunset, Astral, Soho Cinema, Boulevard (21st Nov 1997)

I can go to Sunset, Astral, Soho Cinema, Boulevard: because I'm young, free, and single. I'm not cheating on anyone. I'm attracted to that side of life: the sleazy side. I find inspiration in its vitality, and colours and music. Pure sensation. Don't have to talk. I love the naked breasts of the girls at Carnival, I love the naked breasts of the girls at the Boulevard. That's it. I love it. It is intoxicating, that sex-dancing world. Liberate myself from such restraints, and learn to love the hour of the flesh.

"Collective lust roared unashamed at the theatres" (20th Nov 1997)

"Collective lust roared unashamed at the theatres": Berlin 1928, Paris 1860, London 1997. They are beautiful girls in the films. Wouldn't it satisfy my curiosity if I just went to Astral and did it? What good does it do, boasting proudly how long I've lasted, 20 days, 21 days, if I'm being eaten away inside my brain every day. Like Toulouse Lautrec, make myself at home among the sex cinemas and sex dancing. The colours & intoxication & pounding music can fuel me, give me energy. 

I love the openness & relaxation of the girls in the sex films like Egon Schiele loved his models. 

I tried giving up sex cinemas and clubs but I couldn't, it would just be on my mind. The more I try & resist, the weaker I become. How strong I felt the day after Soho Cinema's shame, how strong I felt the day after Astral and red room--it is a strong part of my life. 

Your injunction to me to "do something" takes me in the opposite direction to that what I think I want to go: as I sail down this "do something" river I feel the sense of danger increasing, the sense of being up a creek without a paddle, and moving full speed away from the main river to my destination and the territory I know increasing. But, this is my problem. I wouldn't want to bore you with my problems. I must make this choice for myself, of course. 

Haunt the balconies of the Coliseum. 

I've become sex-obsessed this year, more morphine-addicted than ever. 

I am nothing without the sleazy nightlife, don't just go to musicals, opera, cinema, I do want Boulevard, and Soho Cinema/Astral. So it's my little naughty vice: everyone needs to let off pressure. I've done nothing today, because I wasted it, consumed by sinful desire, so better to have gone and gone it, and been relaxed for the next few days: do what you need to do: a little of what you fancy. It is my project. "Theo had quietly adjusted to Parisian nightlife and the 'hour of the flesh'". Your sexuality is your most powerful force: you must indulge it. Remember that girl watching me as I read the Eric Cantona headline: how thrilling to turn by her and go in sex cinema. The day after going, I made such huge progress, because I'm no longer preoccupied by thinking should I go or not. 

IT IS VITAL RELEASE VALVE FOR ME AS A WRITER. The vampirism returns! I've got a crippling addiction. Laudanum-head, like Miranda Richardson in Kansas City. 

"They are the typical ramblings of a drug user eager for a fix but without the means to pay....But the previously unseen letters show that as well as his desperation to acquire the drug, he also shared the addict's paranoia about his habit. Although Coleridge's habit was widely known--one reference book describes it as a 'crippling addiction'--the letters reveal the large quantity of opium he took...Coleridge admitted two years before he died that despite repeated attempts, he had never broken his addiction, describing it as the 'poison, which for more than 30 years has been the guilt, debasement, and misery of my existence'. Sotheby's specialist Peter Beal said 'These letters offer a particularly vivid and rare first-hand glimpse of the compulsive habits and routine of one of the most famous drug addicts in literary history.'" This hysteria of erotic excitement. The sleaziness of life is its vitality.

Last night in bed I comprehensively decided against going to Boulevard/Soho Cinema (19th Nov 1997)

Last night in bed I comprehensively decided against going to Boulevard/Soho Cinema. Now this morning, putting on my tape, I straightaway want to go back to see the dancing girls. Isn't it terrible. This sexual festering disease in my brain, that Manu battled with, Dali, Lorca; so accept it, everyone of artistic temperament has it. 

I love the noisy sexy music and the girls stripping and dancing to it. In a debauched Parisian, Bohemian way. 

Even the Helmut Newton books turn me off now: I've had too much. Didn't go to pub and Astral, regretted it on train home. Perhaps I should have done. Better to let it out. Train girl wasn't there. Quite relieved. Perhaps she doesn't work there anymore, or gets a different train. Isn't there a lack of vitality, though, by not going? The shame speeds things up: Astral, Soho Cinema, Boulevard. You need to indulge, taste the mixture, inject it into your veins. 

The urge inside my brain to be alone is so overwhelming, and so driving, so central, so demonic. Peel all the layers away and what you get down to in the core is this urge to be alone. That's what obliterates my life, it is the black hole drive machine in the centre of me. 

Egon Schiele: cocks out: sitting in front of nude girl in stockings masturbating smiling: sitting in front of mirror: sitting in Astral Cinema. "Lautrec drawn to everything vital and beautiful:" what is more beautiful than an erect straining cock sticking out of trousers in Astral? "and so he was addicted to the lively colourful activities of the demi-monde." The inspiration comes from the rotting stuff in the gutter: "and so Soho, with everything that belonged to it, became a second home to him...he saw stars rising & falling in the cabaret heaven and found an inexhaustible source of inspiration for his work... But now he revelled in everything that Parisian night life had to offer his artistic eye: dance, theatre, circus and brothel. He became the interpreter and chronicler of this small world where it must be added, man in his individuality always remained in the forefront for him." I'm fascinated by the men with their penises out in Astral, the sexual tension. 

My favourite painters are painters of prostitutes: Manet, Grosz, Dix, Lautrec, Schiele. 

I am the interpreter and chronicler of the small world of Soho: Soho Cinema and Astral tomorrow. Men with their cocks out. 

Regain a healthy relaxation about the demi-monde, prostitutes, sex-dancers, actresses.

What else have I got? (18th Nov 1997)

What else have I got? I like the cold baleful stare back of the models, like Manet's Olympia, or any of Egon Schiele's models. He painted them to explore his own sexuality. I write about the strip clubs. I've had a sad life, that's not my fault, I need the colour & vitality of strip clubs and cinema. Because relationships are grey and indistinct. 

Zola and Manet didn't live in the sleazy prostitute realism of Paris 1860s just for a nine month project, the same vein occupied them for years. Vampirism will occupy me for years. 

The summer months were so empty because I was looking for some substitute for pornography to keep me occupied, failing, and entering the black hole. I only came out with my September visit to Astral & Soho Cinema, leading to Berlin 1890s idea. I have a grand ambition, but now I must return to work and earn lots of money to finance it. Do something useful with my life: does this mean going to work, or writing my book? I am a strong powerful spy, and the girls who want to love me (seduced by my mystery & glamour) must wait and be frustrated. 

I'm a writer, my models (like Manet's Olympia and Schiele's models) are the girls at the strip clubs: they don't come to my studio and lie there while I paint them: I go to them and write about them when I get home. Thursday 30th October, at Sunset then (very briefly) in Soho Cinema, was a disaster because I went so deliberately and nervously and premeditatedly, trying to fix the emotion beforehand, instead of relaxing and remaining very detached and light. I went looking for something and so didn't find it. Going with no expectations and with no sense of its importance, but simply as a time-filler, it is much more enjoyable and sensation-rich. 

So instead of no more going, go very very many times now before Christmas: Boulevard, Astral, Soho Cinema, Sunset Strip. For one day, I stop being me. I hang my normal uniform up here and go out in sinful disguise. My history resumes the next day. It is a page I tear out in advance. Tomorrow is one such "stopped" day, releasing me to do whatever my impulses demand, like the Claridges hotel room was made Yugoslav territory for one night only by king's decree.

Don't be weak, I am strong (17th Nov 1997)

Don't be weak, I am strong. I want to continue to wear my ---- jumper & ----- jeans, and I will do so. Like Einstein, Karl Marx, Picasso, F.G.Lorca. That's all right, you hold on to yourself. 

Feynman went and enjoyed stripclubs while working on his quantum physics calculations book. If I had a big book to set beside me, I would be permitted to have erotic tastes in porn films and strip clubs, like Wedekind, Einstein, Toulouse-Lautrec. 

I want to do lots of xmas shopping Wednesday, back to pub for a much needed drink and read of my Evening Standard, and of course my xmas visit to the Boulevard gentleman's club.

It's been a lurid sexually explicit year (14th Nov 1997)

It's been a lurid sexually explicit year. Berlin babylon. Perhaps I should stop getting the Star, that sets the agenda and refuses to let my mind concentrate on more serious things. Let's face it, I'm doing what I want. But I miss companionship. You've got to come up with an act, to come out from behind the curtains at the side of the stage with.

I want to enter that Berlin melting pot (13th November 1997)

I want to enter that Berlin melting pot: decadence, sin, pornography, sexual exploration. £30 is too much for a book--except one by me. The lure of Soho will never go away. DO go to sex films and sex dancers before football nights and opera nights.

They are very kind invitations but they obviously made the mistake of thinking I am a human being (11th November 1997)

They are very kind invitations but they obviously made the mistake of thinking I am a human being. I do love the Soho Cinema/Astral Berlin 1920s sex films. I do love the Boulevard/Sunset Strip Berlin 1920s sex dancers. Paris, Renoir, female nudes, 1880s. Berlin, Dix/Grosz, prostitutes, 1920s.

Going to strip clubs is all I want to do (10th November 1997)

Going to strip clubs is all I want to do. Sexual watching. Like Salvador Dali. Fear and shame. Where is my Gala? Every time you said talk to people, you panicked me again, and made me feel tense. 

How can I make something successful of my life, rich, interest in joining an accountancy course. "I hope you do something". I like the Soho Cinema & Astral films, and Boulevard & Sunset Strip: it is my shameful secret. It is Egon Schiele Monday night feeling. I love stripping and getting my cock out in public. It is a strong, powerful thing. 

Get myself into situations where I can be with real people again, be successful, make money: the poison of my autistic tendencies needs to be purged. It is now the anniversary of our last meeting, exactly a year ago today. "See you later" were your last words to me. I know about the sleazy side of Soho life. I am the cynical observer. Like Wedekind, Toulouse-Lautrec, Egon Schiele, Van Gogh, Dali: I like the sleazy side.

I'm exploring pornography (8th November 1997)

I'm exploring pornography, I'm exploring my own sexuality: like Egon Schiele. Toulouse-Lautrec. Wedekind. 

She said it's up to me to tell her what help I need and she will try to provide it: I'm clarifying it for you, so you can further improve your assistance. If we can diagnose the problem better we can treat it better, do you think?

They're ugly (7th November 1997)

They're ugly, they open their mouths and ugliness comes out, they want to smear me with their ugliness because they resent me for my beauty and my intelligence and my serenity. They hate me for being happy in myself. Well, I'm sorry, but I can give them no satisfaction. They destroyed Oscar Wilde, but they will never destroy me, I'm terribly sorry for them. They want to take my serenity away from me, well I'm very sorry for them, but they haven't got the ability to be able to succeed. They must continue to be frustrated. 

"This strategy is consonant with the tendency of Weimar society in general to test continually the limits of sexuality in relation to legal (or moral) jurisdiction. The cultural artifacts of the Weimar Republic evince a fascination with sexual transgression and the violation of traditional taboos through the exploration of pornography, prostitution, androgyny, homosexuality. Modernity to the Berlin of the mid-1920s entails a sexual expressivity outside the constraints of love or convention. Sexual secrecy--aligned with the bourgeois repression confronted by the newly popular psychoanalysis--is annihilated in an excessive exhibitionism. Accounts of Berlin, such as the following by Stefan Zweig, were common: 'Berlin transformed itself into the Babel of the world'." 

I am exploring pornography, like Egon Schiele. 

 

To Louise the city's erotic smorgasbord was the most pervasive and intriguing attribute of 1928 Berlin (4th November 1997)

"To Louise, the city's erotic smorgasbord was the most pervasive and intriguing attribute of 1928 Berlin, 'where the ruling class publicly flaunted its pleasures as a symbol of wealth and power.' No account of the city's sexuality at that time is better than her own: Sex was the business of the town. At the Eden Hotel, where I lived, the cafe bar was lined with the higher-priced trollops. The economy girls walked the street outside...Collective lust roared unashamed at the theatre. In the revue Chocolate Kiddies, when Josephine Baker appeared naked except for a girdle of bananas, it was precisely as Lulu's stage entrance was described by Wedekind: 'They raged there as in a menagerie when the meat appears at the cage.'" 

"Wedekind's controversial writing embraced Freud's thesis that civilisation is based on the suppression of the most basic human instinct: the erotic. He preached a 'revival of spiritual sensuality and bodily pleasure'--an unattainable freedom of the flesh that outraged late Victorian morality...Wedekind also practiced what he preached. He delighted in scandalising the fin-de-siecle bourgeoisie with his capes and extravagant Mephistophelian garb, and he kept company with avant garde artists and con-artists, prostitutes and petty criminials. He loved bordellos, opium dens, and particularly the circus."  

I love the secrecy of Astral & Soho Cinema (1st November 1997)

I love the secrecy of Astral & Soho Cinema. Now winter is here, I want to spend the whole winter in the sex cinemas in the mist and blackness.

How strongly and how repeatedly Soho Cinema and Astral turned me on (31st October 1997)

How strongly, and how repeatedly, Soho Cinema and Astral turned me on, and how little Sunset Strip does. Watching the girls at close quarters, I thought how sexy I would find this sight now if it was on a screen now and I could be rubbing my cock in the dark. Perhaps £6 spent in Soho Cinema without staying wasn't a mistake: the sexual tension in Soho Cinema and Astral is incredible. In Sunset Strip so non-existent, dry, dusty & polite. Soho Cinema & Astral is wet and sticky and there are slopping sounds, dicks sticking out of trousers and being rubbed gently: how sexy it is! Like Oscar Wilde found rent boys exciting, I find the cocks out in Soho Cinema & Astral exciting. I should have stayed in there yesterday with my £6 ticket: Sunset Strip was the mistake. 

The September blackness: it was only the visit to Soho Cinema and the visit to Astral that improved me, brought relief, blood pulsing back through my veins, excitement to lift me out of the blackness: and then just the prospect of going back again sustained me for the next 3.5 weeks, that heart pounding, illicit excitement. You need something to make the blood pulse through your veins, and stimulate you: if you haven't got a relationship then you need Soho Cinema & Astral. The nerves and excitement of doing something illicit & shameful. The only thing that helped me get through the death and the funeral was the thought I'd rush back to Soho straight afterwards. It is my peace, my relaxant, my chocolate after the medicine. To escape from relationships, I go to sex cinemas. How dull & useless I feel in relationships.

I can't wait to get back to Soho Cinema and Astral Cinema and Sunset Strip (29th October 1997)

I can't wait to get back to Soho Cinema and Astral Cinema, and Sunset Strip: masturbate my life away like Salvador Dali. I love the thrill of being in those places with all those men.

The power I felt in the ----- today, because I felt however they tried to attack me, I was still powerful and strong, and invincible to them forever. So, Wilde and Sunset Strip and Tosca. Go back sexily, powerfully to work, and enjoy the dynamics I set in motion again: be a notetaker, a biographer of the reactions. Like Ranulph Fiennes went to the North Pole, write my book for Foyles when I get back.

The excitement and colour of Kansas City last year (26th October 1997)

The excitement and colour of Kansas City last year, marking the return to sin. The relief of that, the feeling that the new year was going to be a year of sex. And so it was, so it has been. But what do I feel at the end of this year? That is more difficult. It seems outdated now, to keep going to Sunset and Soho Cinema and Astral. But what else is there? Just lead a quiet life as much as possible. Enjoy the films, and the opera, and Sunset. Meanwhile, keep writing. 

What am I tense about? There is nothing to be tense about. I'm free till November 17th. If I had train girl Louise to talk to, how much warmer and fuller my life would be. 

"No one could deny that you have been under pressure -- but still you keep coming back for more. And so you should, because current developments are guaranteed to bring out the best in you. Who cares if others insist on springing a few surprises? No one will catch you out. You're well equipped to stay ahead of the game. You will, however, need to conserve energy if you are to keep up the pace for much longer. The trick lies in using the minimum of effort for the maximum effect. Cut corners and lighten your load. You've got a long way to go."

Remember Egon Schiele and go back to Sunset Strip (25th October 1997)

Remember Egon Schiele, and go back to Sunset Strip. 

Being at work makes me unhappy. Following my secret desires is marginally better. I can't escape this basic equation, and the solution seems unavoidable. 

"La Belle Epoque became a celebration of women's sexuality and beauty, in turn-of-the-century Paris. That acrobatic frenzy of limbs called the Can Can was born, where dancers high-kicked in frilly petticoats flashing glimpses of white flesh between bloomers and stocking tops. Girls drudging as laundresses ten hours a day for peanuts could suddenly have more money and fun by dancing. Star dancers such as the brazen Paris sex symbol La Goulue (the Glutton) emerged--she was the first nude cover girl and became rich and famous. Meanwhile: 'The sinuous moving of a voluptuous body, the open sexuality of an uncorseted woman and the exotic attraction of the mysterious eroticism of the North African coast made the arrival of belly dance a catalyst for the birth of striptease.'" 

Go to Sunset Strip often (but briefly): three pints inside me will make even one hour bearable, even if the Glutton isn't there. But I have to keep checking. Fine. Weekly visits to see blonde bob Glutton, like I had weekly visits to see black bob. If I could afford it then, I can afford it now.

I rather enjoy it it makes me feel better, they play into my hands (24th October 1997)

I rather enjoy it, it makes me feel better, they play into my hands. "You have hidden ambitions and it is to these you should look and try to advance this Friday. There's no need to be shy or coy as it's possible that whatever your career is may not be where your heart lies. So make a promise to yourself to follow your secret desires."

I can only communicate by letter now (22nd October 1997)

I can only communicate by letter now. It is like Beethoven slowly went deaf. I slowly lost all sense of emotion. "You can do as much as you like to resist the inevitable but, like it or not, the dice of life have been rolled and you can do nothing to prevent what is coming at you. It's futile to fight fate, so why bother? Save yourself the pain and in the end you will gain."

I've had two weeks since my Egon Schiele moment without acting on it (16th October 1997)

I've had two weeks since my Egon Schiele moment without acting on it.

I do like the sleazy club life in Soho (15th October 1997)

I do like the sleazy club life in Soho, it is comforting and safe, no emotionalism.

Erotic sex dancing: Mata Hari, 1920s Berlin, Ruth St Denis, Secessionist Vienna, Maud Allan, Anita Berber (13th October 1997)

Erotic sex dancing: Mata Hari, 1920s Berlin, Ruth St Denis, Secessionist Vienna, Maud Allan, Anita Berber. What can be better? I want red boudoir again. Nothing better than a beautiful woman, dancing to a song, interpreting the music in her own way.

I think the moments looking into the eyes of gold dress blonde hair Tanya on that volcanic December 14 cauldron night were even more erotic than black bob

I think the moments looking into the eyes of gold dress blonde hair Tanya on that volcanic December 14 cauldron night, as she removed the gold dress and let her huge breasts flop around the pole and slide down it with her thighs wrapped around it and her naked pussy rubbing against it, were even more erotic than black bob. They were the finest moments of my life. I can only find warmth in this alternative way, rather than conventionally with ----- or ------, it is the scopophiliac's way. 

Raining all day today. Go back to Sunset Strip in the rain, thinking of gold dress Tanya, her big floppy breasts and long naked thighs. In the spirit of Egon Schiele.

I want to go to Soho every single week (7th October 1997)

I want to go to Soho every single week, that's really what I mean now. I need and want that weekly release. It will become a ritual again. Like every Thursday going to film, pub, then to see black bob, every single week. Resume this again.

Try going to red boudoirs tomorrow (6th October 1997)

Try going to red boudoirs tomorrow: that's the plan. Because I love being naked in the boudoir with the prostitute. Be gleeful, mischievous, relaxed and powerful about it. Because, like Toulouse-Lautrec, I prefer going with prostitutes. I totally, openly prefer going with prostitutes, rather than -----, for example. I would happily choose prostitutes every time. Because I love being naked in their boudoirs. Get up tomorrow, knowing from the first second this is my prostitutes day. The world is my oyster tomorrow. Powerful. Volcano. I am the volcano. Get out of my way. I am Geoffrey Firmin, the Consul. I am Toulouse-Lautrec. 

I love painting myself naked, like Egon Schiele. I love writing myself naked, and erect, in my pinks, and reds, and purples. 

Stop pontificating around in the middle. Go all out with prostitutes, 1890s, Moulin Rouge, Toulouse-Lautrec, Egon Schiele, go all out with work, in blue overalls. Discover my power now, discover my volcano. 

In June I felt so embarrassed leaving Astral Cinema, it was written on my face, I was red & ashamed, and everybody could see it. But the last two times I've been strong and powerful. Now be strong and powerful with the prostitutes, 1890s, Moulin Rouge, Toulouse-Lautrec, EGON SCHIELE. It is a whole new world I am stepping into. The black & purple Emperor butterfly is about to leave the chrysalis. 

Egon Schiele is the most honest, now you be honest. Toulouse-Lautrec, Moulin Rouge, 1890s. Then I could have Louise. I went into the prostitutes world of the 1890s to discover the power to enable me to have Louise. I needed sexual power to enable me to cope with the emotions necessary to cope with my need for Louise. This is my Tannhauser, in black & purple, in 1890s Paris. Find out about Tosca. 

Back to Grosz again. Enjoy life. Enjoy sex with prostitutes.  But mostly, watch myself like Egon Schiele.

 

3rd October 1997

1st October 1997

 

 

I feel like Aphrodite & Sphynx again (7th Sept 1997 Vienna)

I feel like Aphrodite & Sphynx again. "It is false spirituality to neglect things carnal. Real spirituality comes from regeneration of the flesh." The Aphrodite films are Benny Hill films, the Sphynx girls are Benny Hill girls. That huge-breasted blonde in black see-through dress is a Benny Hill girl. I want to check that other striptease place. Think about how good Caligula became towards the end. Thursday 18th would be good for Sphynx, tomorrow for Aphrodite.
The volcano: to let my spirit burst free in my writing; to let my spirit burst free in a relationship with someone else.
A volcano because I am holding it back. No, because it is blocked, it has no way out.
It will be good to get drunk again in the Savoy, though, won't it, staggering down into the toilets to get my penis out again in increasing anticipation of Sphynx I am about to get to, or Aphrodite. I want to go see Woody Allen films in the Ringstrasse, come back to the cafe with no intention of staying out, but then a couple of pints later the rising excitement makes me go to Sphynx. Tomorrow?

Angkor is like my brain: vast and lost under the jungle (2nd Sept 1997 Vienna)

Angkor is like my brain: vast and lost under the jungle. But can the jungles be cut back? It's been lost under the jungles for -- years. It is a fascinating quest to uncover it and explore it. I am a sort of archaeologist into my own brain. A Grafologist. A 1930s Indiana Jones of the mind.
I'll do it for Diana! What better memorial could there be to her.

I don't care about anything (29th August 1997 Vienna)

I don't care about anything. I just want to go on writing my letters to Seraphina. I'll just float along in the world, and waste my life away. I will remain in the ring of fire, where Susan Layton put me. I would rather sting myself than cross the flames.

"There is no cure for manic depression" (27th August 1997)

"There is no cure for manic depression. Pagett says that only since January has she recognised that she will only get better if she accepts that she would never be well. She now controls her moods through drug-based self-management. Well enough to recognise the triggers that might lead her back into psychosis, she self-administers a prophylactic accordingly."
"It sounds so fragile, a state of mind dictated by nicotine and too much dancing. But no, she counters, she feels quite unfragile, though it's taken two years to nail it. 'I try not to think...or to feel,' she ponders, sounding a little surprised by her bald statement. Perhaps not to feel too much? 'Perhaps...and not to indulge in it. I've never respected myself until now. If I can deal with this, it's like shaking hands with myself.'"

The only way to attain mastery over material malfunctioning is by adopting a more spiritual philosophy (26th August 1997 Vienna)

The only way to attain mastery over material malfunctioning is by adopting a more spiritual philosophy.
"You and Virgo are at the butt of the Sun-Pluto square and that is bound to bring out a side of you that you have repressed since childhood. A transformation has been trying to occur since 1995, but circumstances or a resistance to change have meant you've been putting off what you know you must do to find yourself. A metamorphosis is going on deep in your psyche, and you have to go with it, or you'll paralyse your personal growth."

I want lots of money so I can go to floozies all I want (25th August 1997 Vienna)

I want lots of money so I can go to floozies all I want. So I can see new gold dress dancers all I want. Just four more weeks to get through. I can't wait to lose myself in degeneracy, nihilism, the Gurtel again. Those black rainy nights. The orange cauldron.
Stay serene and smiling, like that little old bag lady rustling her carrier bag in the NFT back row. I just want to live in naughtiness and masturbation.

Elastic bands snap. I snapped (22nd August 1997 Vienna)

Elastic bands snap. I snapped. You stretched me too far.
I live in India, in divine time. I am a monk. A holy man. A fakir. If I am to be myself, that means I must be silent.

Sitting here in the hot sticky 8.58 morning heat (21st August 1997 Vienna)

Sitting here in the hot sticky 8.58 morning heat, with the birds hooting & chirping & whistling in the lush green fauna out the back, it's like sitting in a house in the jungle, Manaus, the Lost World, before setting off upriver to find something.

The Justice Ministry is judging myself (20th August 1997 Vienna)

The Justice Ministry is judging myself, and it starts out with very big promises of the changes it will be instigating, but then bit by bit it starts to back away from them, until things are allowed to go back how they were before.
Ashamed of myself, I judged myself most viciously. Now I'm starting to like myself again, and I start to think maybe what I did wasn't so bad after all, in fact it was the ONLY right thing to have done! So now the measures I put in place to punish me, and make me alter my future behaviour, have gradually been loosened and exceptions have been allowed more and more, until the restrictions have been virtually removed altogether, and I've gone back to almost exactly the way I was before.
I'm living like a monk, day after day, that's what I want.

It was a shame the Carnival Strip club finished before I perfected my wanking technique (11th August 1997, Vienna)

It was a shame the Carnival Strip club finished before I perfected my wanking technique. It was the perfect place for it. Pornography and writing, that has been my year. This would be my whole life, if I had the chance. The blonde Sharon in white-ribbed minidress.