Tuesday, 30 December 2014

Paris 1873 started to go back to the pleasure-loving venality of before [Silvester Night, 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. 

Sunday, 28 December 2014

Follow your instincts, be true to your own feelings, because that’s all you’ve got [29 Dec 1996]

Follow your instincts, be true to your own feelings, because that’s all you’ve got. That’s what I did at nursery school, and now, in the end you have to go back to being yourself. People try to change you to make you seem just like them, you’ve got to become just like them, so you’re playing a role all the time, and are always miserable and under terrible pressure. In the end you just have to be yourself. Follow your instincts, be true to your own feelings. Spite them all: have a good life in spite of them, enjoying my opera, theatre, cinema, books, strip clubs, writing, therapist. No matter what poison this person hopes to spread about me. That’s what will annoy them: that I’m enjoying my life, my riches, more than they can have. I can’t wait to go drinking again, and go downstairs in Carnival, ready again. Then what afterwards? Find a room. Where are they? I like paying for things; I like a business transaction sort of relationship. Stick to that. I like the Sneaker Pimps atmosphere, Soho sex dancing clubs.

Saturday, 27 December 2014

I want Carnival again and worse [28 Dec 1996]

I want Carnival again, and worse. "You've arranged a life for yourself where no one can touch you."

I feel both more permanently scared and at the same time more content [27 Dec 1996]

I feel both more permanently scared and at the same time more content. I’ve been weakened by this idyllic love for the Virgin Madonna --------, who I can feel no feelings for in real life. This cripples me. I need to seize a middle road. I am the stage of Paris in 1875, starting to rebuild itself, glorying in the spectacle of the Garnier Opera opening, a sparkling renaissance was beginning, like the war, siege and Commune never happened, like I’ve learnt nothing. But what else can you do, you must go on, you must find enjoyment and pleasure; though now it is more realistic, balanced and tempered with sorrow and realisation it is merely consolation. I am very fragile and very careful in all my emotions now. I’ve gone back to a lot of bad things, but I’ve also brought forward out of my time with Sarah a lot of new strong things. Things seem blacker now because I’ve got a more realistic view of things; so things are revealed as being more permanently black & scary, but at the same time I’ve got new strength to deal with it.

I feel better balanced and less prone to obsession than ever before [Boxing Day, 26 Dec 1996]

I feel better balanced and less prone to obsession than ever before. I went to strip clubs originally to get away from my obsessions, it's that way again. I'm like a Napoleon III Second Empire figure, in blue jumper, black eyes. It's like being in the engine room of an ocean liner. Go out dripping with sex, eyes black mascara-lined, drunk on power and lust, like Wedekind, Machiavelli going to brothels. I have a power.

There's a big hole where half the pitch should be [23 Dec 1996]

There's a big hole where half the pitch should be, but you're playing on as normal. Trying to go the same route through the middle of the pitch. I realise you just have to accept it or play around it on a very limited area of pitch. You can't replace brain material.

Like when bob left I had so much to say to her and I never said a word [18 Dec 1996]

Like when bob left, I had so much to say to her and I never said a word. Same with Sarah. That was crushing. I kill myself all the time. Like a rusty tap you never had to use before. There’s water in there but it seized up long ago. By the time I got it working, Sarah had left. I’ve never felt anything for someone I know, I only feel desire for strangers. Reality is cold, miserable, the impossibility becomes obvious and evident to all.
If that’s what you want to do then I think you should do it. I have tried for years to endure a job I hate and I just can’t do it anymore. I’ve had enough, I just want to do what I want and be myself.
The balance of power has shifted from Sunset Strip to Carnival: Sunset used to have the best girls, now the Carnival and Boulevard do. I looked at them as Otto Dix girls and it turned me on. I looked at them as Fu Manchu girls and it turned me on. Exotic dancer Mata Haris.
Life goes on a long while: these are but miniscule short-lived dots in the great multi-coloured picture of my life.
Maybe I will look back on this as being one of the golden ages of gentlemen’s clubs. I will probably spend my life in them. Toulouse Lautrec spent his life in brothels. Wedekind did. With Mephistophelian flamboyance and swagger, he indulged and luxuriated in them. I will, too.

Should I go to Carnival; I vowed never to return [17 Dec 1996]

Should I go to Carnival; I vowed never to return. Boulevard is good but too recent perhaps, and Sunset Strip is good but too familiar***What an incredible night at the Carnival. Dark-skinned girl with big wild brown hair. The white short hair, very black eyes, closed, very beautiful dancer, sinuous, constant hip movements. The sexy little Philipino. Now I was turned on. Then pair the Sunset blonde and fat blonde. They turned me on more. Then another pair, beautiful voluptuous blonde bob, black bra & knickers, and Victoria’s Secret girl double in black corset dress. Sensational. Then Raven! Black hair in French clasp, pink cardigan, over black silk blouse, black leather mini-skirt, tiny black g-string, two black garters, knee-length black stockings. Red red lips, like a black vamp in her style, pierced pussy lips, she held them open wide. It was like Raven come back to me. Long spangly black dress second time, sensational. I thought it would be so bad, but Raven, Victoria’s Secret girl and blonde bob (her only once) made it sensational. I will return soon.

Hatred does more harm to the possessor than to the object of that hate [16 Dec 1996]

Hatred does more harm to the possessor, than to the object of that hate. I've had moments of blackness, but what is more is the moments of real high contentment, even brief seconds of mastery that come over me. Capitalise on these high moments of contentment and happiness over the past month: build on it. Readmitting a careful drop of sex, too. Progressing fast with my book. Everything in balance.

I'm so rich inside, so many treasures [15 Dec 1996]

I'm so rich inside, so many treasures. Last year, it didn't feel like that, like bulbs taken out of lamps, grey & drab & cold inside. Now Sarah's given me new bulbs.

Last Thursday was a more exciting day wasn't it and that's the main criteria [12 Dec 1996]

Last Thursday was a more exciting day, wasn't it; and that's the main criteria. It doesn't matter what you do, as long as you have a more stimulating day once a week or fortnight. Return to that life, getting drunk from 3pm to 430. Spend my money faster, go back to newspaper club faster, get job faster, save money faster, new material. Everyone needs stimulation, whatever they do to get it. I'm Toulouse-Lautrec. I'm Wedekind. Celebrate my Machiavellian lifestyle. Go to a real woman soon, a prostitute. See her strip in a private room just for you. I can always escape from the abuse to London and the girls of the Carnival Club and Sunset Strip and Boulevard, like I did after Raven; and I've always got Sarah's warmth and intense belief in me. Lose myself in drinks and brothels and writing, a revolutionary life. Marx had to endure abuse, shame, ridicule, poverty, humiliation,  but he kept writing, commenting on the German social democratic scene from afar; I will too. The grass is never greener on the other side. In the final reckoning you have far more than them. My riches will last a lifetime and grow, I will have my book-lined tall London home yet. I WANT A JOB NOW: I want to work so I can go to Budapest, Berlin, Paris.

I feel like Jack the Ripper sometimes. The end is very beautiful [11 Dec 1996]

I feel like Jack the Ripper sometimes. The end is very beautiful. The only true loving emotion in the film is at the end, when Jack and Lulu are looking into the candle together and feel mutual love for one another, they are both lost, abused souls who have met and recognised each other; but then this feeling of love causes the volcano to rise in Jack and he has to protect himself from it and grabbing the knife and sticking it in her. For a moment it seemed they can be happy, but then his volcano ended it. He’d raised his hopes too many times before and got hurt for it, that was what made him the way he was, he couldn’t do it again, no matter how much he tried and wanted it, the volcano wouldn’t let him. Karl Marx was so desperate he even tried to get a job as a railway clerk, this great beast of a man, big black figure, wild beard, mad eyes, boils on his body because he couldn’t afford medicine, socially inept, they found an excuse to turn him down, saying his handwriting wasn’t legible enough, but the thought of him as a railway clerk, sitting at a tiny desk, doing what he was told all day, it was hard to imagine. That is how I feel. So I feel great love for Karl Marx, Lulu. I am a revolutionary like Karl Marx. I am a potentially warm loving person but who like Lulu suffered emotional abuse as a child and became a cold smiling blank screen, encouraging people to destroy themselves against her.
Blank screen, serene, calm front. Lulu and Kaspar Hauser could have been brother and sister. When he appears in Nuremberg town square he is a completely blank screen, he just stands there, apparently stupid and timid but inside his mind is racing, thinking how are people going to treat me; and people can’t cope with him, they become beside themselves, they lose all self-control, he sets in motion an incredible chain of events, subterfuge, intrigue, but he’s the totally innocent, bewildered, still-point at the centre of it all (while people are fighting over his very head, he just shrugs and happily goes on planting his cress seeds to spell out his name), and it eventually leads to his murder, because people just can’t allow him to remain living, they just can’t cope with him. I stand in the square, bewildered, waiting, either you’re going to take care of me or you’re going to hurt me. I am at your mercy. I have no means to charm you to win your kindness or to defend myself against your cruelty. I am in their hands, it is their choice. By the choice they make, they reveal themselves in their true colours. That is instructive, I learn to enjoy see them show themselves up, make themselves look ugly and inferior.
They couldn’t hurt me, because I am so far inside, but I can look out and observe and note it. People make the street sound so ugly, and look so ugly, with their ugly words. But I stay beautiful and serene and sail above them; there is no ugliness in me, I don’t think ugly thoughts, I don’t say ugly things, I am beautiful inside and that is how I want to stay. Kaspar causes people to react with such intense hatred and abuse to him and what has he done to deserve it, or causes people to react with such strong intense love for him, what has he done to deserve this, he just quietly calmly watches it happening all around him from deep behind his eyes where no one knows he is, and he had to be killed for it. Lulu walks into a room and causes this eruption, men destroy each other and themselves to possess her, she causes such intense hatred, and all she has done is walk into the room, and she has to be killed for it, but she is not culpable, she wasn’t to blame. They are both innocents and they have to be destroyed because society can’t cope with them, ugly people can’t bear to have their ugliness revealed in this mirror. They say Lulu is a monster and evil, but it is they who are projecting their monstrosity and their evilness onto her, and they hate her for seeing themselves reflected in her calm, unblinking, silent, unmoving mirror; they say she is a slut and a whore but it is their own sexual desires which she inspires that they are ashamed of and makes them feel dirty, so they pretend it is she who is dirty and demand she be punished. They say Kaspar is a monster and evil, a threat to society, but it is they; Kaspar is the most loving and trusting person there had ever been. I knew this, and I chose to remain innocent, and beautiful, and intelligent, and serene, and happy, doing as best I can.

I can’t do anything worthwhile till I’m in my 30s anyway in decadent Berlin [10 Dec 1996]

I can’t do anything worthwhile till I’m in my 30s anyway, in decadent Berlin, with prostitutes in brothels, my face is too young, so might as well make use of this pleasant waiting time to write my books telling my story up to now, reappraising, just typing up the backlog. This is like the timeless woman-filled warm paradise of 1 to 4 years old. This is the best time of my life. I can see now my life hasn’t even begun, nor should it till my late 30s. this is the warm paradise before the real action begins, and I arrive in Berlin of Europa Europa, Rosa Luxemburg prostitutes. Prostitutes are good! Wedekind, Toulouse-Lautrec, with flamboyant Mephistophelian luxurious swagger. It’s what you think about things, not the situation itself. It’s all positive interpretation. I’m very fortunate, writers get better, they don’t even start till their 40s. This is the delirious warm paradise before my real life begins! Filled with warm girls, prostitutes, sex-dancers, at Boulevard, Carnival and Sunset Strip! Even at the Post Office that was part of warm paradise.
So many people have tried to be nice to me, and I couldn’t return it, because I was never equipped by M at birth. It makes me so sad and depressed. Must I always refuse to respond to people’s attempts to be warm to me? It’s not like no one was ever nice to me, or never showed me any attention. There’s just a black missing part of my brain, and it makes me so sad and alone. Let Louise Brooks’s account of the delicious erotic smorgasbord in Berlin, October 1928, be my bible and my guide. Get drunk again, return to Boulevard regularly, that voluptuous fat girl, and Carnival and Sunset. They try and bring me down because my intelligence is out of their reach. I’m very young, I look like a 19-year-old; wait till I get to my 40s! Then I will start. To stop the rot, give back his self-respect. Stop the disruption, restore his good name.

Friday, 26 December 2014

Embrace your fear, wear your fear, be your fear, love your fear [9 Dec 1996]

Embrace your fear, wear your fear, be your fear, love your fear. Read about the Freudian, psychoanalytic 1901 world of Vienna. Kraus, Klimt, Schiele, etc, Zweig. Next time in London: Durenmatt’s The Physicists. Charing Cross Road 2nd hand books on Freud, Vienna, etc.

Thursday, 2 January 2014

I am a boorish anti-social man like Karl Marx with no charm or warmness [2 Jan 1997]

I am a boorish, anti-social man like Karl Marx, with no charm or warmness. I want to keep people at a distance, because when they get close they’ll see I don’t know what to do or say, I’ll just sit there like a block of wood and that’s humiliating, and they’ll sneer and make their distaste evident; so better to avoid them and avoid that. Now they sneer but they make themselves look thick and ugly because I know it’s unjust.

Wednesday, 1 January 2014

A return to the venality of Paris 1875 [1 Jan 1997]

A return to the venality of Paris 1875, but the pain is still very real and very close.