Three gay men in the seats in front of me

Three gay men in the seats in front of me; god, they can talk and they don’t stop. Christ, the one on the left is actually sitting in the seat sideways, so both his feet are in the aisle, so much he is enjoying his (own) conversation. The man does not stop talking. The two on my side are just listening, the whole time; on & on & on he does not stop. For f—k’s sake, shut up. Now he is sitting in the seat backwards, his back against the back of the seat in front, as he carries on talking. He will be upside down, sitting on his head in a minute, as he carries on talking.

But you never know

But you never know. You can walk into anywhere you like, and there are 20 girls there you don’t like, but there can be 1 girl with the “fresh bloom of sexuality” on her, and because of her you stay and stay and stay. It just takes one girl to bring a club to life and to bring a city to life. That’s why you keep on trying.

Well standing at the Rogier cash machine I see a Belgian girl walking towards me

Well, standing at the Rogier cash machine I see a Belgian girl walking towards me, long wavy brown hair, glasses, little black & white tight top, blue denim shorts, very curvy, and busty; and she was bouncing, all the way towards me and past me; just bouncing. The greatest moment of the trip so far, and it will take a lot to beat that. Another very warm but windy Brussels day. Rain and thunderstorms predicted for night time. Why Fifth Avenue has no girls (anymore) like this black & white top girl? Not a single girl I would ever want to sleep with yesterday. Actually I’m really disappointed. I thought come here in high summer and I’d see more sexy girls than I normally do. In fact there are less. Where have they all gone? That girl with the black & white top who bounced past me at the cash machine is the only sexy girl I have seen.

Yes the Orient Express is really pointless for people watching

Yes the Orient Express is really pointless for people watching. Well, now I discover the Orient Express has lost all the music channels as well. I asked the barmaid if she could put on some music and she got on a chair & pressed the buttons and they only have about 5 TV channels and radio channels. What happened to all their NUMEROUS music channels??? No music in my hotel and now no music in the Orient Express!

Well a poor first day in Brussels

Well a poor first day in Brussels. Cine Paris films were poor (but I only stayed 10 minutes intending to go back later), Rue des Commercants was rubbish, not even Beatrice; Fifth Avenue was rubbish, not even Ina or Andrea. After that I just rushed back to Midi to grab some food before all the food shops closed for the evening. Today I will try again, not so tired and with more time to play with. Fifth Avenue seems set on an irreversible decline. I got to Orient Express just before 4 yesterday and now it is 1115, so I am four hours ahead of yesterday’s schedule. As I expected though the pretty barmaid is not here this early, so I will have to return later to see her. That should encourage me to get up to Dome sooner rather than later—though my black barmaid was not there yesterday. In fact, there was no barmaid at all, just the usual barman who is always there at lunchtime.
Fifth Avenue

Follow the path of least resistance I always tell myself

Follow the path of least resistance, I always tell myself; that applies to Eros as much as anything else. To go up to the Dome, getting soporific on Stella, is a waste of time. Better to go straight to Cine Paris, Rue des Commercants, Fifth Avenue. Dome tomorrow when I can start early. Yes, let me get blotto here, then straight to Cine Paris. Just one more in Fifth Avenue to check the girls then back to the hotel to eat and sleep. These Jupilers are going down very very nicely. If only the street-scene was more stimulating here. I need to release myself from the clutches of this lovely barmaid, and get a move on. Nearly 5 already! Let me go Mademoiselle!

If I travelled under a cloud

If I travelled under a cloud, under terrible pressure, weighed down by terrible worry last month, this time I travel with a wind beneath my wings. Flying high, easily, relaxed. But, still, nervous. Something must be about to go wrong. The barmaid is what I think of as a typical Brussels girl: curvy, slightly overweight even in most people’s eyes, but really, really pretty. A sweetness about her. Already I wish I could stay for 20 days instead of 2. I will have to do that soon. I have never done that: stayed in a city for more than 5 or 6 days. That would be an experience. And it will have to be Brussels or Vienna. I don’t think I have ever slept with a Belgian girl I now realise; the girls of 5th Avenue and Rue des Commercants and Gare du Nord are every nationality under the sun except Belgian of course. I think I will save the Dome for tomorrow—their Stella just makes me soporific; the Orient Express Jupiler livens me up. Oh, but it is just the black barmaid at the Dome that preys on my mind.