So, on the Eurostar home, and I DID stay within the 200 euros I took out at the start. In fact I think I still have a 50 euro note let in my pocket as well. Fifth Avenue was uninspiring; no stars at all. Grabbed a McDonald’s on the way back to the hotel then out like a light. I woke around 1am with my clothes on and contact lenses still in my eyes! I grabbed some water from the lounge, then came back and went to bed properly. The Snap carriage going home is quiet empty; I grabbed my favourite seat at the back; I think it did belong to a couple of ladies who got on after me, but they saw me here and took some empty seats elsewhere instead.
I’m afraid my opinion of French music—as adduced from the music channels in my Brussels hotel room, D17, C-Star, RFM in some Brussels bars & others—is that it is AS WEAK AS PISS. This is my overwhelming impression year on year. And then I see a video like ————– & I feel almost physically repulsed; I find it contemptible! I find it RISIBLE, my understanding of the word “risible” being somewhere between laughable and contemptible. Too bad to be laughable. Worse than that. And oh yes, there is the Ladyboy in it as well. Of course Kendji Ladyboy Girac is in it. That tells you everything. Honestly, is this MANLINESS? Is there any MANLINESS left in France? We have all in Europe become so effete, so emasculated, but nowhere it seems to me worse than in France. If, if, if their music is any guide. I try on Youtube to find something more interesting, with more guts, more balls, more oomph, but only can find Maitre Gims, Izia, perhaps. Oh but is English music better? 19 Ed Shit Sheeran songs in the Top 20? It is modern music. 2007-9 was like a golden age—massive tunes from Timbaland, Furtado, Timberlake, Kanye. Music these days is as weak as piss, as is the male condition. We need a return of the barbarians—reason for the triumph of Trump perhaps, and rise of Marine Le Pen, more balls than any man in France. Stand up for your own culture, be like a wolf. You think me anti-multiculture? No way. I am pro-multiculture—but multiculture with balls, with your own spirit. No self-castration, and self-emasculation, no self-sterilisation, no self-surrender, no self-diminution, no self-suicide. Stand up like lions for your own culture, and let in all the full exoticism and colour and fruit of other cultures, too. But no, not this weak as piss effeminate weak as piss Ladyboy Kendji Girac surrender. Theresa May has more balls than any male politician in Great Britain.
My god, there are some busty girls in the Rue d’Aerschot. But none enough to lure me in. Completely unaroused in the Cine Paris, though the films up & downstairs were probably the same as yesterday, just different scenes, not even the slightest swelling. And the Red Devil bar at the end of Rue d’Aerschot has not got Jupiler on tap today, so I had to buy a bottle; another sign of the rubbishness of this holiday. I see little chance of it picking up. My mojo is low to non-existent. Anyway, the Red Devil has quality urinals, which is the main reason I wanted to come in here. 220 still ridiculously early, I will have another beer or 2 in the bars further down the road, then head back to Fifth. Before 4 probably, but at least a better, more propitious time than yesterday. Honestly, though, no desire for anything except continued drinking, lovely food to finish the day then bed. Final little session in Cine Paris perhaps and walk around Rue des Cendres and Rue de la Blanchisserie, but no desire for anything more.