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