Soldiers! The first 2 of the day. Two brown caps together

Soldiers! The first 2 of the day. Two brown caps together. Noticeable how many Belgian soldiers have little beards on their chins. The “Brussels Lockdown” did seem extremely over the top; can you imagine London going into “lockdown”—all theatre, restaurants, shopping centres shut down? It is unthinkable—but it is reassuring to see the soldiers on the streets. Can you imagine terrorising your own population the way the Belgian government did? They did the terrorists’ job for them; but no doubt they had good reason to do it. These “jihadist” losers are obviously completely indiscriminate who they kill so hard for a government to protect against.

I honestly don’t know how any man is able to piss in a toilet bowl without splashing his piss everywhere

I honestly don’t know how any man is able to piss in a toilet bowl without splashing his piss everywhere. Maybe if you are circumcised it is easier? But with a full foreskin like me I find the piss naturally sprays everywhere like a watering can. That is why at home I sit down to piss; outside, hopefully there are urinals which capture the spray better; but if forced to use a public toilet bowl, I’m afraid—if I don’t want to sit on an unclean seat—I will be spraying the whole cubicle with my piss. It is IMPOSSIBLE not to. It just comes out that way. Am I so strange? Don’t other men face this problem? Sit down to piss and people mock you. Stand up and cover the whole room in my piss. I’m sure it can’t just be me. My penis is not THAT unusual?

There is so much sex available in Brussels I cannot believe I’ve got to my 5th day now without having done ANYTHING

There is so much sex available in Brussels, I cannot believe I’ve got to my 5th day now without having done ANYTHING. It shows how fussy and hard to please I am. My sexual obsession and my fear of intimacy and all human contact are in constant battle with each other—like two opposing force magnets. Can anything change in these last 2 days?

Saturday was rubbish because I didn’t let my river follow its natural course

Saturday was rubbish because I didn’t let my river follow its natural course; today I will let it and just let whatever will be will be. I think as a one-off experience, I need to go upstairs with a girl at Empire, even for 150 euros or whatever it costs, just so I know what erotic possibility it might consequently bring you. My first choice would be the Indian but her attitude is so haughty and superior, it turns me off. Manuela was warm, and simpatico. Valentina somewhere between the two.

When people attack you it is because they are fascinated by you, they are obsessed with you, they cannot stop thinking about you

When people attack you it is because they are fascinated by you, they are obsessed with you, they cannot stop thinking about you, you are on their minds all the time, you have got under their skin, they are jealous of you; all of these things make me very happy, so when I am attacked I take it as the most extreme compliment anybody could pay to you, and my power over them is increased accordingly. When you attack me, then I’ve got you where I want you. When you attack me, then I can begin to play you like a piano. When you attack me, then I have you in my pocket. When you think you have cornered me, then I will vanish from your sight. When you have forgotten all about me, I will reappear in your midst, splashing you with my waves.

I am not a bad person but the only world I feel comfortable in is the world of strip clubs & brothels & porn cinemas

I am not a bad person, but the only world I feel comfortable in is the world of strip clubs, & brothels, & porn cinemas. The only time I feel at ease, and relaxed, and where I am meant to be; the only time my soul really soars. This precludes me from all normal “healthy” relationships; I feel suffocated, and imprisoned in them. My true nature just becomes ever stronger as I get older; it does not go away; on the contrary, it becomes more insistent; more strident; more unwilling to compromise. There are so many beautiful young women in the world and I want to enjoy as many of them as I can for as long as I can—given I have already lost in London: Carnival Strip, Astral Cinema, Sunset Cinema, Soho Cinema, Boulevard Strip, Peep Show (all of them), Pleasure Lounge; in Berlin: almost ALL of Stuttgarter Platz; in Vienna, Pour Platin and Fortuna Kino; in Brussels California Kabins and Cine ABC; as well as other places I lost before I even knew they existed—the knocking shop right outside the door of Gare du Midi Brussels; the Martin Luther Strasse sex kino in Berlin. Serious ill-health or terrorism or random accident can strike me down at any moment, so I must live every moment as if it is my last. I do not want to die financially healthy with no fantastic memories; I would rather die in extreme debt but with the most fantastic collection of dirty memories, dirty experiences.

I do find myself thinking about Manuela at Empire quite a lot

I do find myself thinking about Manuela at Empire quite a lot; she is the most genuinely sexy girl there; it might be the Indian, with the extraordinary knockers, if she weren’t so haughty and superior; but the exorbitant prices of “going upstairs” are such a disinclination to do anything. But it is quite gratifying that I won’t have sex with just anyone; I’ve got to be really, really turned on before I will do something with someone.

My 5th day in Brussels and I have only worn 2 T-shirts

My 5th day in Brussels and I have only worn 2 T-shirts out of the maybe 6 or 7 that I brought with me, and I am still on the one pair of socks. In winter, I really do not need to bring so much clothing with me, as I do not sweat. Summer is a very different story; but for sure I have brought too many clothes with me on this trip. A lesson for February. No, I do not sweat, I shiver. After the Gaviscon tablets last night, and a massive sh*t, I finally slept very well (full of dreams) and when I woke I saw it was 630am and I had missed all the Jean Rollin vampire films, as well as the AB3 soft porn. Good. My head is at least cleared this morning. There is really no point going to Fifth Avenue—except for Ina, and she only comes late; Le Coin has generally more attractive, voluptuous women, though no stars like Ina or Lucy. The most beautiful girls as usual are to be found in the Rue d’Aerschot windows. Stunning young beautiful girls, big and small. I just want to feel really turned on today or tomorrow. If I could just feel really turned on by someone; that would be something. That is what I travel for.

1145 Sunday. Just finishing my third beer. I just need some spark

1145 Sunday. Just finishing my third beer. I just need some spark, to turn me on. Lucy gave me that last time; Adelina in Vienna; previously in Brussels Andrea or Julia. I am just lacking that someone to spark me into life and make me catch fire. Catching Ina at Fifth Avenue at the right moment, before I am too drunk. It may sound stupid, but for me to actually HAVE sex with someone, the stars and planets have got to be in some rare alignment. If the moment does not seem perfect, then I cannot do it. I resist it, and if I do not resist it, it is a mistake.

I wonder if February is time for me to return to Vienna

I wonder if February is time for me to return to Vienna. I think about Adelina a lot, up there in the top 3 or 4 most beautiful women I have ever done something with. And if Fortuna Kino stopped having hookers in 2015 because of police raids, then it can only be a matter of time before WSK loses them as well, and without the porn kino sex of Fortuna and WSK, I don’t know if there is going to be enough reason to ever go to Vienna again. There is Manhattan at night (Golden Time exists but this kind of environment is not my type). Where Brussels differs from Vienna is there are bars full of hookers during the DAY rather than during the NIGHT. An interesting cultural difference. Brasseries a femmes, I think it is called in France. Beer & sex. From 12 midday to 12 midnight (roughly speaking). But with each day of the holiday that passes, and with each litre of beer I consume, my sexual desire wanes further. I can still maintain a half-erection, of course I can, but just mentally my interest is not there anymore. And honestly if WSK stops having its whores, especially the very sexy Jackie and the now gone Amanda, I really don’t think there will be enough reason to EVER return to Vienna. I have even given up on Berlin (long ago I gave up on Munich).

So my fifth day in Brussels and not one great memory of the trip so far; but absolutely no reason to be in London

So my fifth day in Brussels and not one great memory of the trip so far; but absolutely no reason to be in London so quite happy to be in Brussels. The brief 1-minute lapdances from Valentina and Manuela in Empire were genuinely sexy, and makes me wonder whether I SHOULD pay the exorbitant 130 or whatever to go upstairs in private with them, just to see what else might be on offer. I will try late Monday night, though god knows it must be totally dead on a Monday. Saturday would have been better, haha, but last night I just wanted to stay in my big white bed, and it felt too soon to go back to Empire. For just £38 a night I cannot complain, can I. My favourite hotel so cheap right now. Yes, Brussels has not been spectacular this time, but at least there is a porn cinema, at least there are videokabins, at least there are bars where you can sit surrounded by whores, at least there are streets full of whores, at least there is a road full of whores in windows. None of these are to be found in London anymore. There is at least always erotic POSSIBILITY in Brussels.

1045 Sunday morning. A McDonald’s breakfast to start my day. Now my first beer

1045 Sunday morning. A McDonald’s breakfast to start my day. Now my first beer. I don’t know if the Rue d’Aerschot windows are still open on Sundays. I know the Mayor of Saint-Josse had them closing at 11 every night and all of Sunday but I’m sure I read that Rue d’Aerschot is just outside the borders of Saint-Josse (in Schaarbeek). Only one way to find out.

Today and Monday are going to be a day for SEX

Today and Monday are going to be a day for SEX. I am determined to go with 3 or 4 girls before I go home. We will see.

And yet 0810 on a Sunday morning and I cannot wait to get up, go to shop, and crack open my first 2 cans of Jupiler of the day again!

And yet 0810 on a Sunday morning and I cannot wait to get up, go to shop, and crack open my first 2 cans of Jupiler of the day again! Yes I fancy an Irish Breakfast today. Hopefully they are open at 11am on Sunday. That Domino’s Pizza gave me massive indigestion last night but oh it was lovely. First Domino’s I’ve had since I lived with my wife. What a pleasure, but how I pay. I commence a holiday thinking of naughty things, but by 3rd day all I can think about is food, food, food.

And yet I am happy to still be here in Brussels for 2 whole more days! For the exquisite quality of nothingness, just to be held in suspension like this

And yet I am happy to still be here in Brussels for 2 whole more days! For the exquisite quality of nothingness, just to be held in suspension like this. Already I am looking forward to getting drinking again and this time just head straight to Gare du Nord. The most beautiful girls I’ve seen are in those windows so I should be thinking of them first. Just 805am Sunday now. So many hours to kill before I can start drinking again. Might go down to O’Reilly’s for an Irish Breakfast, after a few cans of Jupiler here in the hotel, then walk back up to Gare du Nord. I presume the windows are still open on a Sunday. I feel quite determined to do something with the first sexy girl I see, and the second, and the third. To set myself a target to do something with THREE girls in a day, to finally get me to do SOMETHING. Instead of keep putting off and putting off, and ending up doing nothing. I always leave home thinking I am going to —- every girl I see, one after the other, but usually end up doing nothing. I have to do something on the first 2 days really, because by the third day I am already saturated and sodden with drink, and all desire drowned. My body and brain is just crying out for DRYING OUT, and thought of naughty things has been drowned beneath the beer and consequent deadness and dullness.

Earlier I had popped into Cine Paris but it was still the same films as the previous 3 days and I was now thoroughly sick of them

Earlier I had popped into Cine Paris but it was still the same films as the previous 3 days and I was now thoroughly sick of them, so went to Brussels Grill for a customarily gorgeous steak. Carried on to Gare du Nord for the good kabins of Sexyworld (even though my two favourite videos are now missing from the list), walked along the windows, had a beer in Fiesta, another one in Café des Taxis. The window girls of Rue d’Aerschot are really extraordinary—so unbelievably beautiful for such tawdry settings. So many 9 or 10 out of 10 girls, it is ridiculous. So much higher quality than most of the girls you see in Fifth Avenue or le Coin or the Rue des Commercants. I really should spend more time here, but the comfort of sitting in a nice warm bar like Fifth Avenue is hard to resist. At least 3 or 4 very tempting girls in the windows, but I was determined to go to Ina so returned to Fifth which, as I said, was a waste of time. Should have stayed at the Rue d’Aerschot and done something there, and Ina’s time will come when the moment is right, rather than trying to force it. So drank too much, ate too much, terrible indigestion, just want to stay in my big white bed Saturday night.

I’ve reached that stage of my holiday where I just want to stay in my big white bed with my big white pillows

I’ve reached that stage of my holiday where I just want to stay in my big white bed with my big white pillows, and not go out. Saturday night I had no desire to go out at all, so just stayed in my lovely white bed listening to classical music on the radio (on my phone). A waste of a Saturday. I started drinking too early again, and then just tried to carry on drinking till it was late enough for Ina to arrive at Fifth Avenue, so by the time I finally got to Fifth Avenue after 4 or 5, yes, Ina was there, but I was now so benumbed by drink I felt nothing for her or anyone. There’s no point me going to a room with a girl unless I have already got an erection in the bar, so much do I fancy her—it was like this with Lucy, and Andrea, and Julia. I literally could not keep my cock in my trousers with any of them, so could not resist going to the room any longer. Sometimes I see Ina there and I feel like that for her, she turns me on so much. Yesterday she looked as beautiful as ever but I just felt no desire for her, or anyone, no desire for anything sexual at all. So I left and now being so drunk that meant I was hungry again (despite me having a Brussels Grill steak about 3 hours earlier!) and went into the Dominos for a pizza to take back to the hotel! Then of course I went to sleep and woke straightaway with appalling indigestion that took several Gaviscons, and several hours, to go away. Everything about the day was just wrong—because I tried to plan it perfectly, to fix it, so I would get to Fifth Avenue when Ina was there. I should have just done something with someone else. When the time is right, one day I will be in Fifth Avenue and Ina will be there and I will be in the mood, then we can do something.

After 3 solid days of drinking my stomach is looking flatter than ever

After 3 solid days of drinking my stomach is looking flatter than ever; because I’m just drinking and hardly eating. Certainly no more than 1 meal a day. No doubt the drink will be converted into fat later, but that is a delayed process it seems. My fifth can and it is 12:57. We are getting there. My one real goal for this trip is to do something with Ina before I go home. And buy some new shoes. So 1.55 in Brussels Grill. I’m so weak. My hunger got the better of me. Cine Paris had the same films as the last 2 days so I just wanted to eat then. 2.07 already. Time I eat, get to Gare du Nord, couple of beers, back to Fifth, might be perfect?

I haven’t really had any great memories from this trip

I haven’t really had any great memories from this trip: I need to start making some. The trouble is I start drinking so early and am then back in bed so early; the sexy girls don’t come out till I’m already back in my hotel fast asleep. But what else is there to do when I wake up, except drink? 1120 on my 2nd Maes. Once again, then, getting drunk too fast. So let me just go to Gare du Nord, eat something, then come back to sleep. Out again this evening; never easy; but I will try. Or else, just try to carry on drinking for like 7 hours, and then pass out for the rest of the night? I could do that in London, but Belgian beer is considerably stronger than beer we drink in London.

Switched to Maes today for my first 2 beers of the day

Switched to Maes today for my first 2 beers of the day. Being a Saturday, Fifth Avenue does not open till 230pm anyway, so that should give me the incentive I need to make the effort to walk up to Gare du Nord and check out the windows and the kabins. A bright sunny day, unfortunately. Think I’ve seen the last rain of this trip. 11am. I was due to check out at this time and head back home; very glad I did add on this extra 3 days. I have yet to see a naked woman on this trip (Empire being topless only); yet to do anything naughty with anyone. Surely I have to do SOMETHING naughty in the last 3 days? Candidates: the ever present Beatrice outside Café Jimmy, Ina (finally?!) in Fifth Avenue, and anyone I might see in the Rue d’Aerschot windows. The crazy man is down below the Max lounge again; always there, every day, talking to himself; seems happy, chatting away animatedly to himself. I wonder what his story is; what made him like this? Not been there the last couple of days—the weather obviously too foul even for him. Down to my last 205 euros; might be enough for 2 days, but not for 3. Probably the crazy man looks up at my window and thinks “there’s that crazy man again; sitting there drinking can after can of beer all on his own, talking to himself”, because I do, after a few beers.

Well there was ONE other customer in Empire when I got there just before 11pm

Well, there was ONE other customer in Empire when I got there just before 11pm. Felt very uncomfortable but around midnight a lot more people started to come in, which made me feel better. Unfortunately, at 10 euros for a small bottle of beer it is too expensive to stay there for long, unless you drink very slowly, which I don’t. They do have some very beautiful girls there—the Katy Perry lookalike Valentina, Spanish-Romanian Manuela with the beautiful bottom, and the haughty Indian-Hungarian —– who a gentleman might think possesses the most beautiful knockers you have ever seen in your life; unfortunately she seems to keep herself at a higher level than the rest of them/us, and one doubts she would permit any naughtiness at all. After the girl finishes on stage (topless only) she will come and offer a brief lap dance in your chair for 5 euros (for a duration of about 30 seconds), and I had one with Valentina and Manuela. They are arousing enough to make me wonder if perhaps it IS worth trying one of them upstairs in private, for the exorbitant price of 130-150 for half hour or whatever they charge. The Indian-Hungarian, of course, charges more. It is a lot to pay, however, if you get up there and find it is no touching allowed—but at least my curiosity would be satisfied.

Brussels is so quiet, even on a Friday night

Brussels is so quiet, even on a Friday night. I’m sure when I get to Empire I will be the only customer.

Well even Brussels Grill empty on a Friday afternoon

Well, even Brussels Grill empty on a Friday afternoon, 4pm. I can see about 6? other customers. This place is absolutely packed usually. Fifth Avenue was quite empty too. No girls I fancied at all. Decided to leave for a steak instead, then sleep, and try to go back later.

Got a pounding headache now

Got a pounding headache now, but also an erection thinking about —– coming back to my hotel.

Struggling on my first beer of the day

Struggling on my first beer of the day. My head still hurting from yesterday’s drinking. So all of a sudden this is what would have been the last day of my 3 day stay—how fast it goes. Glad now that I did add on an extra 3 days, so that gives me Saturday, Sunday and Monday here as well. Just raining now. To Dome for some of their lovely crusty bread & butter. Struggling with the Stella here as well; but an unexpected treat! My —– is on the lunchtime shift! Despite the foul (lovely) non-stop rainy weather, the Dome is busier than I have ever known it, which is good to see. I always said if —— worked the lunchtime shift I would have asked her out by now, but she always usually comes in just as I am leaving; well, we will see if I am tempted to flirt with her today. Me flirting is a painful sight, and I do not recommend it, even to myself.

1130 Friday. It is snowing in Brussels

1130 Friday. It is snowing in Brussels. Cine Paris; I left as soon as some man sat down next to me; the films weren’t much good anyway, and I was eager to go down to Coin. I walked all the way in the end. Mostly familiar faces. 2 or 3 very tempting but after 3 beers I walked back up to Fifth Avenue. Had a drink with —— and bought Ina a coffee. First time I have even spoken to her for months. “Do you want to do something?” she said and quoted me the prices. On this occasion I was too drunk. A McDonald’s then bed, and slept right through till morning again. So Ina is around! Will I finally, finally, finally, do something with her?

Boulevard Adolphe Max

I need to drink enough so I don’t care about being blown apart on the Brussels metro

I need to drink enough so I don’t care about being blown apart on the Brussels metro. Has there EVER been a bomb on the Brussels metro? No. Will there EVER be a bomb on the Brussels metro? Probably not. But fear is always there isn’t it. Or if not fear, wariness. Am I more likely to get killed crossing the road than I am to be killed in a “terrorist” attack? Yes. Our fears are crazy, but undeniably powerful. In every social environment I always EXPECT rejection, so quite obviously I expect to be blown up every time I use the underground. But what to me is important is there are a lot of people who are cripplingly self-conscious, just to know we are not alone. There are lots of us who are cripplingly self-conscious. To be cripplingly self-conscious does not make you a bad person; in fact, the CONTRARY is true! All the most cripplingly self-conscious people are always, it seems to me, also the best, nicest, most likable people. So all strength to you, my comrades. There’s probably more of us self-conscious people than there are of the confident people, just you would never know it. You are not alone; so draw immense confidence from that. You are quite possibly even NORMAL. Just no one talks about it. Not many admit to it. I admit to it. Every time I open my front door and step outside, I feel almost cripplingly self-conscious and exposed. Like I have no skin on my body. But hyper-sensitivity is a blessing. It raises us to a HIGHER level. Makes us MORE alive. Realise your blessing. Realise the power this gives you. Reversal. It is all about reversal. Walk towards what scares you more & more and your nerves disappear. Embrace what you are afraid of, and your fear disappears. Your nerves and your fear are the greatest inborn electrical power of your life. More than electricity, they are the untapped nuclear power at the heart of you. Realise it, and start to use them for your power, instead of your fear. You too have a power—most memorable thing my psychotherapist ever said to me. You have a volcano deep inside you? Use it! You have crippling fears, nerves, self-consciousness—use them! Use them to FILL you with power. CONVERT them! It is all about reversal. All about conversion. Never about direct engagement with one’s jealous enemies. Undermine them more subtly. Always remember—when someone attacks you, then you have them where you want them. Now you have them in your pocket. Now you can play them like a piano. To be attacked, the greatest victory. To be attacked—means you are getting under their skin, and really bothering them. Great people never attack; only small people attack. So, carry on. More and more. Flaunt yourself in their faces, more and more. Don’t do it less; do it more.

Why do I still wear my ring?

Why do I still wear my ring? If I took it off it would feel to me like I was repudiating, and rejecting that part of my life, as being something wrong, and a mistake. But it was not wrong and it wasn’t a mistake, and I have not a single regret about that part of my life. That woman remains the greatest thing that has ever happened to me, the lodestone of my life—till the day I die. When I die and you cut me open, you will find she runs through me like the words in a stick of Blackpool Rock. Yet the more I came into my true self, the more I became not the man she wanted me to be, so we can only go our separate ways. For me, I am happy she is safe and looked after. This gives me even greater relaxation to continue to grow into my true self, without worry, without guilt. So, 6th can.

Boulevard Adolphe Max

But as I get older I feel my river is more & more cutting its own course

But as I get older, I feel my river is more & more cutting its own course, and I am more & more coming closer to my true self, and more & more fulfilling my natural destiny. The prospect of real relationship, marriage, grows ever more & more remote. It can never be for me. I want other things, stronger and stronger. My addictions are not the temptation away from the course of my life; my addictions ARE the main course of my life. My addictions are my Nile, my Mississippi, my Rhine, my Danube. They are the main course of my life which give life to everything else around them. Indulging my addictions brings me to life and invigorates every other area of my life. I can feel happy and relaxed at home and at work as long as I am rampantly indulging my addictions at all other times. A happy life seems to me predicated on the ability to indulge the RAMPANCY of one’s true nature.

I have to get really drunk to find out what my sub-conscious really wants me to do. It is like the oracle of Delphi

I have to get really drunk to find out what my sub-conscious really wants me to do. It is like the oracle of Delphi. To be able to decipher the message this encourages, I have to be in such a state of perfect inebriation. I am not yet at it. So, a 5th can of Jupiler then. Sober, conscious mind in the saddle, I don’t know what to do. Go to the Cine Paris? Or Gare du Nord? Or 5th Avenue? I’ve no idea. But when I drink, my sub-conscious takes over and the river starts to cut its own course, and you do what really feels right; and then you can never go wrong. My eyes are over-developed in me to the detriment of all other organs. I do believe that. My scopophiliac love of SEEING dirty things had made my eyes so much bigger than my heart. My heart has atrophied. All I want to do is feed my EYES’ love of dirty naughty girls. I only go with whores because I want to see them get undressed and be naked. The actual physical act of penetration is the least exciting part of the encounter. My eyes dominance over me has cost me all hope of a desire for real relationships. Are there really other people like me? Even to me, I feel EXTREME.

I do not understand people who can live their lives without beer

I do not understand people who can live their lives without beer, and pornography and prostitution. I just genuinely cannot. They are so much the crutches of my life, I do not understand anyone who does not need these crutches. Where is their opium? What are their highs? Is this addiction to these opiums sign of my sickness? I honestly feel I am MORE healthy, MORE alive, than those their boring mundane lives without these things. We all live life from our own angle, our own perspective, and find it hard to contemplate any other. Certainly, for myself, I can only say I only feel alive when I am doing these “naughty things”. It is only the naughty things that make me feel alive. That cost me my marriage, that cost me the love of the one woman who remains “behind my defences”, but I have to be true to myself. We only have one life, and it is so short.

I was wrong to say the Boulevard Adolphe Max xmas lights are up but not lit up; even in daylight I can see the lights ARE still on

I was wrong to say the Boulevard Adolphe Max xmas lights are up but not lit up; even in daylight I can see the lights ARE still on. The Hairy Nights are over. The Smoky Nights are over. The Winter Solstice festival is over. I am weak and have a 4th can of Jupiler before I go out. I’m really waiting for it to start raining I think. How I love going out in the rain. Rain, fog, snow—for desperately shy people like me, these weather conditions are such a massive lovely relief. I genuinely feel LOVE for rain, fog and snow. They calm my nerves—even at my old age I have never lost my shyness and self-consciousness when sober. No.1 reason for my reliance on alcohol. In intimate encounters, on a 1 to 1 level, I am much more confident and at ease and aware of my power, it is true; but still, every time I open my front door and step onto my front path, I feel excruciatingly self-conscious. Stupid, stupid, stupid! But it never leaves me. Why I love winter, darkness, dark by 4pm. Why I dread return of bright nights, spring, summer. Too much brightness. Too much visibility. There must BE other people like me, right? People so self-conscious they crave darkness, rain, night, fog? A red cap and a black cap soldier going up this time—they seem to be mixing their regiments now. And yet, is it true to say people this self-conscious CANNOT be bad people? This level of self-consciousness means you must be a sweet, nice person? I have never met a really nasty piece of work who lacked confidence. My self-consciousness and perpetual expectation (not fear) of rejection consequently make me kind and gentle to other people. And let me re-iterate, it is not a FEAR of rejection, because I don’t care if you reject me or not because I don’t want anything to do with these —– in the first place, but it is a quite natural, ever present, in every second, EXPECTATION of rejection. It does, I think, make me always kind and helpful to everyone I meet; I do not want to be a rejecter. Except if someone tries to get close, of course, but that is different. Blue skies now, no sign of rain.

I was born 20 years too late

I was born 20 years too late. The 1890s sound fantastic, the 1920s in Berlin sound fantastic, but in the modern era, the 1970s perhaps was the golden age of pornography & prostitution in Europe. I didn’t discover these wonderful places till the 1990s, just as they were about to go into decline—due to Internet—easily accessible pornography for everybody—and new bizarre Puritanism. The death of the sex places is understandable even to me. When I was growing up, if I wanted to see a naked woman I had to go to Soho—because it was before internet. Now if I want see a naked woman I just open up my internet. No.1 reason for the death of the sex places right there.

Beer, pornography & prostitution—the greatest things in life. My 3 drugs. My 3 opiums

Beer, pornography & prostitution—the greatest things in life. My 3 drugs. My 3 opiums. I travel to indulge the opiums. Already in Soho (since my career in infamy began in 1992) I have lost Carnival Strip Club, Astral Cinema, Sunset Cinema, Soho Cinema, Boulevard Striptease, Pleasure Lounge & Peep Show, 50% of the “French models” flats; in Berlin almost all of Stuttgarter Platz, Chocolat, Hanky Panky/Stutti Frutti, Mon Cheri, Golden Gate, Starlight, Night Dreams, Blue Bananas, Cascade Sex Kino all gone; in Vienna Pour Platin, where I lost my Vienna virginity. Not just closed, but knocked down, razed to the ground, an empty hole in the Gurtel like a missing tooth. It is like someone is deliberately going after all the places that have given me erotic pleasure, illicit thrills, sleazy pleasure, and closing them down one by one to leave me with NOWHERE left to go. Last year, I lost Fortuna Kino in Vienna and Flying Scotsman in London; this year I am sure WSK in Vienna and the street girls of Brussels Rue des Commercants. This is why I want to travel more & more, faster & faster. You may wonder why I have never gone to the most famous red light districts, of Amsterdam and Hamburg, even Antwerp; but I am a creature of habit. Brussels, Munich, Vienna and Berlin are my homes. Well, Munich is over for me, and in fact I am more likely to go to Nuremberg, and Berlin feels pretty much over as well, with the 90% loss of Stuttgarter Platz. When I see strip clubs and night bars close down, I feel sad. Normal, respectable establishments make me feel so depressed. I do indeed have a mind completely bitten by the serpent of sex, and I cannot understand why everyone is not like me. But, it has to be sex without emotion, sex without “relationship”. Pure priapic, erotic rampancy. Sex for the pleasure of sex, sex for the visual pleasure of sex. Sex as just hands on pornography. I am really phobic to emotions. Only one woman has ever got through my defences, and remains “behind my defences” (in a kind of perpetual offside position).

1136 3rd can. Finish this and down to Cine Paris

1136 3rd can. Finish this and down to Cine Paris. I notice all the parking spaces outside the Plaza are taped off today—maybe they are expecting some VIPs later or have them already. The danger of car bombs outside a place like the Plaza must be high I would have thought. As always the thought remains, why there is not MORE terrorism than there is? These losers have all the guns and the bombs they need to do something every day, so why don’t they? Why is it so few and far between?

Yes Brussels may turn out to be poor this time but still a million times better than being in London

Yes, Brussels may turn out to be poor this time, but still a million times better than being in London. Especially now the Flying Scotsman is gone. That place was the centre of my life for ten years. New in Brussels this time: There are new parking spaces all the way down the side of the Hotel Plaza, which replaces a lane of traffic. My hotel TV has got BACK the 5 missing channels! Which included incidentally my 3 FAVOURITE channels—D17 music channel, Action Channel for the Jean Rollin films, and AB3 for the late night soft porn. The Boulevard Adolphe Max still has its xmas decorations up, and the Diamant Bar still has all its xmas decorations up. That just seems lazy. They should have been down at least a week ago. Blonde ponytail jogger in black leggings and most gorgeous round fat arse. I love Brussels.

Christmas lights still up in Brussels deep into January

From a money point of view this is certainly the time to travel to Brussels

From a money point of view, this is certainly the time to travel to Brussels. The first 3 nights in hotel cost me £36 each, and the last 3 I added on later £38 each night. A short notice Eurostar ticket from Brussels to London cost just £41. I will start at Cine Paris then maybe head down to get Le Coin out of the way. Any suicide bombers on the metro will surely strike at rush hour won’t they? They won’t bother on a quiet Thursday lunchtime. Maybe I will be brave and get the metro down, and walk back up. I can’t face that walk twice. Snow predicted for this evening! No wonder there’s not many street girls around, just the older ones. Beatrice’s bottom did look so good yesterday; I can’t get it off my mind. Standing at the 5th Avenue piano, the Brazilian woman squeezed next to me and was stroking the front of my trousers, and it did turn me on I must admit. Ah the first soldiers of this trip. A red cap and a green cap together, strolling up towards Rogier. It does look cold outside. You can see people visibly shivering inside their coats. Their shoulders hunched.