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. 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. 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; 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, 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. 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; 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.