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.