Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Paris 1873 started to go back to the pleasure-loving venality of before [New Year's Eve, 31 Dec 1996]

Paris 1873 started to go back to the pleasure-loving venality of before, started to enjoy life again, blood flowed through veins again: that is Thursday 5th December for me, yellow Moll dolls picture, Boulevard, Die Soldaten stripper. When I left scientific, missing Sarah behind, and went back to sex, pleasure, venality. Jospin breathes new life into the left: French socialists have regained the appetite for a fight. Of course, post siege and commune, in the Belle Epoque! Naughty nineties, fin de siècle decadence. Ever greater pleasure and venality! That’s coming for me too. Martine Aubry. Tuesday 17th December, Carnival under new management (Italian, of course). But with Dixian, and Fu Manchu, and Mata Harian girls. Next year will be good, the pleasure and venality returning to Paris, shameless, but now tempered and strengthened by the pain they’ve been through. More wise and knowing in their approach, shameless pleasuring themselves now. I think next year something will happen. It’s not a crime to enjoy life, to enjoy looking at sex dancers, to enjoy brothels. Wedekind, Toulouse Lautrec. Machiavelli. Last December 31st I wrote: “At the end of the year, I look back and think of all the things I wished I had done. There’s hope in that Sarah was nice to me, black dog girl was nice to me, kiwi girl was nice to me, Belly Josephine was nice to me. Next year try not ignoring these people, try not to shut them out, let them in: If there’s one resolution for next year, it’s the first person that’s nice to me, let them in. I’m crippled, and choked, by so many missed opportunities, I can’t speak to anybody, can’t face anybody. What a horrible nightmare my life is.” Didn’t I ignore and shut out Louise B-----, and black velvet? The first person that’s nice to me, let them in. Who might it be next year. I won’t be among people again till June at the earliest, because that’s what I want. Last December 31st I was so desperate to force myself to talk to someone, now I rather want to keep my privacy. Louise B-----, black velvet, work at P.O., made me see how impossible it was. I’ve only the Dr at Castlewood to look forward to, the red star on my black horizon. I’ve got six months peace and quiet to write my book now.