First song on my phone as I put my earphones in and settle back—Mahmut Orhan & Sena Sener’s version of Self Control, “oh the night is my world, city lights, painted girls”. I just wait for the UK Border officials to pull me out of the line of departing passengers at St Pancras now—a ritual feature of every return to London. Do I really look SO suspicious? Victimisation.
So my hoped-for cheap, short little trip to Brussels at the end of October, just to tide me over till the long trip to Vienna, turned into an expensive 7-nighter, my longest ever stay in Brussels. My financial recovery will be delayed somewhat. I learned some new things—I MUST eat something for breakfast when on holiday; it transforms the whole day to come. I must force myself to spend a long time in Cine Paris. I must spend more time in Rue d’Aerschot, having now discovered the Retro Bar right at the end, and Red Devil just before that. I did feel I went further than before in Brussels this time—with Leyla, in Cine Paris and in Rue d’Aerschot. I hope I can break through to a deeper level in Vienna as well. Don’t hold back. Spend the money, break through to the other side.
The Justice Palace really does loom over Brussels as your Eurostar pulls out of Midi. It really feels like the symbol of Brussels. Justice Palaces being, for me of course, powerful symbols in themselves—not just of justice, but of corruption, moral corruption, decadence, judgementalism, the naked scales of justice of the universe, sin, morality. A painless enough check out and embarkation. My Saturday morning taxi was as cheap as it has ever been, 9,20, and he took me down a route no other taxi had taken me before—along Malines, down Anspach, down Laeken, Fontainas, back onto Anspach just before the Palais du Midi. Ironically it was raining last night, the one night I COULD have gone out as I was wide awake and sober, having spent all afternoon in Cine Paris. A grey Brussels morning; I expect rain before we reach the tunnel. Travelling home on a Saturday is so nice actually. I can get back to a nice peaceful London rather than weekday madness. A nice half-empty train.
I think about cancelling the trip to Vienna, but it would make such little difference—the hotel & travel money is already spent & is not refundable (a little bit of refund on the train tickets only)—so the only expense would be a little bit of spending money when there, and I can live very cheaply in Europe if I have to. Better to go and hope to have as delicious an experience as I did here in Brussels.
Guy Fawkes Day. I cannot be too down on myself for the money I have spent on this elongated Brussels trip—it has been a wonderfully pornographic, erotic week, and that is precisely what I try to save my money in London for. Tuesday’s long stay in Rue d’Aerschot was deliciously exciting; Friday’s long stay in Cine Paris was deliciously exciting. My Tuesday night tryst with Leyla was deliciously exciting; if it went wrong after that it was only because I felt too emotional about her and that is not what I go to places like Fifth Avenue for. I go for a purely erotic sexual experience; when I start having feelings for them it all becomes confused.