So yes a relatively cheap trip to Brussels

So yes, a relatively cheap trip to Brussels. 165 euros spent in cash plus the 128 euros hotel and £74 Eurostar. £320 in total? As usual I went there hoping for a sexually rampant, wild time but once again did nothing. There was nobody I fancied at all. So no hurry to come back, which is good. Next time I will definitely spend more time on the cultural things, the pilgrimages.

So on the Eurostar home and I DID stay within the 200 euros I took out at the start

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.

Louane – JOUR 1

340 and my dial of drunkness is still only just on halfway point

340 and my dial of drunkness is still only just on halfway point; this time yesterday I was already unconscious, in deep, deep sleep; blacked out after 9 hours of drinking and over-large pizza. Now, still hungry and still ready for some more beer. Empire out of the equation after last night, so I can leave everything on the table now. All out now, leave nothing in reserve.

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

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.

At least today I got to 3pm still feeling I am in the MIDDLE of a drinking session rather than already fast asleep like yesterday

At least today I got to 3pm still feeling I am in the MIDDLE of a drinking session, rather than already fast asleep like yesterday. Not only did Red Devil not have Jupiler on tap, all the others were off too, so I gave up and went to the toilet, to find the lights were not working in the toilets. Further sign, if sign were needed. Back to La Dernière Minute, last bar in the Rue d’Aerschot.

My god there are some busty girls in the Rue d’Aerschot. But none enough to lure me in

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.

The FORMER Paradise Peep Show

Still —– seems the focal point of my life. My mental life, my emotional life, even though we are not together

Still —– seems the focal point of my life. My mental life, my emotional life, even though we are not together. I still orbit around her star, a distant orbit, but quite happily so. I cannot give her what she needs, and cannot be the man she wants—any man who can be the man his woman wants is not really a man, surely. Less than a man. A castrated man. An emasculated man. The type of man who is taking over Europe, at least, unfortunately. “Snowflake” man, if I have understood the meaning of this phrase correctly. 120. Any man who can be the man his woman wants him to be is a man who I instinctively, perhaps stupidly, lack respect for. A nice man, for sure. And I envy him his happiness and his contentment to be with the woman he so patently loves. Yet nice, it can never be me. Never.

When at home in London on the treadmill I crave the erotic pleasures of Brussels and think when I get back there I am going to f–k every half-decent floozie I see!

When at home in London, on the treadmill, I crave the erotic pleasures of Brussels, and think when I get back there I am going to f–k every half-decent floozie I see! But then I get here, and feel nothing but reluctance, and reticence, to get involved, and do anything, even though it is all there on offer. This reluctance, and reticence, only grows & grows the older I get; but still I carry on. Like Phedre “continuing to seduce long after seduction has ceased to be a pleasure”. Like Smiles of a Summer Night, “flirting with rescue when one has no intention of being saved”. Increasingly locked up within myself, I discover I have become LESS rampant the older I get, not more. More confident, more freedom, more money, yet I do less than I ever did before, when I was so much crippled by shame, poverty, etc.

I leave the hotel on my second & last day in Brussels with 140 euros in my pocket. I am now confident that this will be enough to last me the whole trip

I leave the hotel on my second & last day in Brussels with 140 euros in my pocket. I am now confident that this will be enough to last me the whole trip (now that Empire & Jennifer are ruled out). But if I am going to Rue d’Aerschot, bar to girl, for 70 euros, to Fifth Avenue and 20 at bar, which leaves me just 50, not enough for a Fifth Avenue room! So no, maybe not enough after all. And don’t forget I need cash to pay the taxi driver early tomorrow morning.

But what gives a life “point”? To settle down, get married, have a mortgage, 2.4 children, once a year holiday in Spain?

But what gives a life “point”? To settle down, get married, have a mortgage, 2.4 children, once a year holiday in Spain? Or live alone, travelling several times a year to Brussels, Vienna, Berlin, Munich, always alone? Does one have more “point” than the other? Discuss. A river cuts its own course. I do what gives me pleasure. Or try to.

Ah my crazy man! My first sight on this trip. Over outside the door of the Plaza with a crutch

Ah, my crazy man! My first sight on this trip. Over outside the door of the Plaza with a crutch. He is rubbing his chin, looking in this direction, probably seeing me and thinking the same thing, “Ah, that crazy man in the hotel! My first sight of him in a long time!” We never see ourselves as others see us. As always, I wonder what is his story. He does not look like an unintelligent man, why does he live this empty life? As always, he could say exactly the same thing about me, with great justification.

Always I want to follow the EASIEST route; that is why I always go straight to Fifth Avenue even if I know it is too early

Always I want to follow the EASIEST route; that is why I always go straight to Fifth Avenue even if I know it is too early for the quality girls and therefore pointless. A river cuts its easiest course. This is why I still keep going to Fifth Avenue too early, rather than Rue d’Aerschot where the more beautiful girls can be found. It is too far to walk? Not sure it isn’t exactly the same distance to Fifth as it is to Rue d’Aerschot.

As always the enduring miracle why are we not all swimming in shit? When you think of the amount of shit that human beings are constantly excreting

As always, the enduring miracle, why are we not all swimming in shit? When you think of the amount of shit that human beings are constantly excreting, why our cities do not smell constantly of shit. An effective sewerage system the enduring monument of modern human civilisation. On my 4th beer, and it is starting to tell.

It is the eternal problem—you wash your hands after going to the toilet but then have to turn the door handle to leave the room

It is the eternal problem—you wash your hands after going to the toilet but then have to turn the door handle to leave the room, thereby picking up all the shit & piss from the animals who have not had the intelligence to wash their own hands before you. The washbasins really need to be in a open section not behind a door. If you have washbasins in a toilet, then a door for people to open, then there is no point having the washbasins. Surely? At airports and railway stations I think this is normally the case; it is usually open entry. But office buildings & hotels, in my experience, always have a DOOR leading into toilet areas. This has to be wrong.

Most people are Blood Type O or A or whatever it is; I think they would list me at various times as Blood Type Jupiler or Blood Type Maes

Most people are Blood Type O, or A, or whatever it is; I think they would list me at various times as Blood Type Jupiler, or Blood Type Maes. Blood Type Fosters. The presence of alcohol in my blood is probably almost constant, even though, thanks to work, I do always go 4 or 5 days at a time without any consumption. The trouble comes from my excessive indulgence in my days off. It is a bit crazy; instead of sitting here in the Max Hotel lounge drinking beer, I might as well be sitting in the Cine Paris drinking beer. At least something more stimulating to look at when I am drinking. Still I delay my departure, for one more, one more.

The people in Brussels seem quite definitely more relaxed & at ease

The people in Brussels seem quite definitely more relaxed & at ease; as it has been more than 12 months since the last terrorist attack in Brussels. But still I avoid the Metro and the City 2 Shopping Centre. Anyway I like the luxury of getting a taxi to & from the Midi station, and there are a couple of shoe shops in the Rue Neuve which are good enough.

Thankfully the presence of a McDonald’s 20 yards away has lured the American ladies away

Thankfully the presence of a McDonald’s 20 yards away has lured the American ladies away. I am only being rude jokingly; they are very pretty, and I would not mind a McDonald’s myself but am trying to be strong and stay hungry. A full stomach is the enemy of Eros and will kill any last chance I have of my erotic flame, poor little pilot light, sparking into any explosion whatsoever. Or if not explosion, at least some chance of heat. Probably though I’ll just stay here in the hotel and drink myself into a stupor. A Jupiler stupor. A Maes haze (or Maes farce, if I pronounce it correctly).

BBC Business News

These American girls have obviously been here before because they knew the location of the change machine, one of them did at least. Christ they are loud

These American girls have obviously been here before because they knew the location of the change machine, one of them did at least. Christ, they are loud. I woke with a very sore shoulder, so I must have been sleeping uncomfortably. I was dreaming I was a receptionist trying to check in visitors to my building, but I didn’t know how to use the visitor badge computer program, and they were looking at me with such contempt, and I felt so embarrassed, and one of them was Benedict Cumberbatch, and he was particularly withering in his contempt for me. I certainly woke up feeling embarrassed, and with a painful shoulder. The Americans are obviously too early to check in so are going to be here in the lounge for a long time. That should inspire me to kick on and maybe head up to Gare du Nord sooner rather than later. But it is insane, Rue d’Aerschot is full of really beautiful women, but I feel no real desire to go there. “I seem to have lost the passion and forgotten the desire”. I will force myself, all the same. 1226, on my third beer.

I am pretty sure I have walked through Place Rouppe on my way to Le Coin but had no idea of its historical significance (where Verlaine tried to shoot Rimbaud a second time)

I am pretty sure I have walked through Place Rouppe, on my way to Le Coin, but had no idea of its historical significance (where Verlaine tried to shoot Rimbaud a second time); and I’ve been to Rue des Cendres once or twice visiting that awful little hostess bar which has gone by various names; have probably even been along Rue de la Montagne; but I never realised the historical significance of these streets I am walking. It adds so much excitement to just walking down a street to know the artistic heroes who have walked the same street before. This is how INTELLIGENCE and KNOWLEDGE make life more pleasurable. How thin life must seem for dumb, ignorant, mentally lazy people. I cannot imagine it.

There are a few cultural things I would like to do in Brussels—visit Rue de la Montagne, the site of the famous Hôtel du Grand Miroir where Baudelaire stayed

There are a few cultural things I would like to do in Brussels—visit Rue de la Montagne, the site of the famous Hôtel du Grand Miroir where Baudelaire stayed during his unhappy sojourn in Brussels which he hated, and where he kept a bat in a cage as his pet that he captured in a nearby cemetery. Place Rouppe where Verlaine tried to shoot poor Rimbaud for a SECOND time; only after this was he arrested and charged and began his 2 years in prison. He had been escorting Rimbaud to the Gare du Midi to see him off to Paris when his jealousy overcame him again. The Rue Ducale 51 where Byron stayed for 2 nights after fleeing England for the last time once & for all. And most of all the corner of Rue des Cendres and Rue de la Blanchisserie—where the Duchess of Richmond gave “the most famous ball in history”, attended by Wellington and his generals on the eve of the Battle of Quatre Bras (four bras? Phwoar!), which preceded the Battle of Waterloo by 2 days. It goes without saying I have been to almost all these places already without realising the historical importance of the place I was. That is why it really does pay to do some research before visiting a city, even one I have visited a million times—it adds so much value to a visit to know the history under your feet every street you walk down. On Rue des Cendres of course is also the site of the Hospital St Jean that Baudelaire was taken to after his massive stroke, and where Rimbaud was taken after Verlaine shot him (unless that was the Hospital St Jean on the Passage 44 site; there were two hospitals of almost identical names about 50 yards apart). Five very loud American women have just “filled” the lounge. How loud Americans always seem to be (Spaniards are quieter but get up very early to scoff all the croissants). 1215 just finished my second beer of the day.

And it doesn’t matter how poor or unarousing my stay in Brussels is I still want to be here

And it doesn’t matter how poor or unarousing my stay in Brussels is, I still want to be here. There is always the thought that there MIGHT be a great film in Cine Paris today, or there MIGHT be a great girl in Fifth Avenue today—one of those girls that blows your mind. It only takes one girl to bring a whole city to life, as I always say. That is the incredible power of woman.

And Empire was so poor it for sure makes me not want to go back there Wednesday night

And Empire was so poor it for sure makes me not want to go back there Wednesday night, and will hesitate a lot about ever going back for a long time after that as well. Without Jennifer—one of the most incredibly beautiful dancers ever—it is really poor. I should only come here on a Friday or a Saturday night when at least the atmosphere is better. In a spirit of defiant masochism I may step into Gascogne tonight, if open, for the ritual 20 euro waste of time with lots of hassle/hustle. And yes the Cine Paris films were no more than OK, but what joy to be sitting again in a proper luxurious porn cinema; of the type that no longer exists in London since the tragic demise of Astral, Sunset and Soho Cinemas. 1153 My first Jupiler of the day finished. Out to shop for a second one.

I was shocked to see so few “girls” on the street along the Rue des Commercants drag. There were just 2 girls on the Pelican corner around Café Jimmy

I was shocked to see so few “girls” on the street along the Rue des Commercants drag. There were just 2 girls on the Pelican corner around Café Jimmy, just 2 girls on the street between Pelican and Flamingo, just 2 girls on the Flamingo corner around the old closed Café Flamingo, and then just 2 girls on the Rue des Commercants itself between Flamingo and Fifth Avenue. The Mayor Yvan Mayeur’s determination to “depress” & eradicate the Alhambra scene by fining the girls and their clients 350 euros each is apparently working. Though, again, I was perhaps just too early. The early Fifth Avenue girls were poor too. The couple of Cine Paris films I saw during my brief half-hour stay were OK—OK meaning they were not the sort of thing I would ever watch at home on my computer, but they at least enabled me to get an erection; so in the in between area of being “OK”. The disaster is films that are so bad I cannot even get an erection, and the great pleasure is a film so good that I rush to find it on my computer as soon as I get back home.

I loved the old Brussels Museum of Modern Art (modern in this sense roughly 1789-1939) which had 6-8 wonderful Magrittes on its walls

I loved the old Brussels Museum of Modern Art (modern in this sense roughly 1789-1939) which had 6-8 wonderful Magrittes on its walls; but then they decided they would take over all the space of the Museum of Modern Art and turn it into a Magritte Museum only; wall to wall Magrittes, complete Magritte overkill. Milking the Magritte cow for all its worth. Devastating. The Belgian Government it seems has forced Brussels city to put back all the other pieces in the original building—criminally all the wonderful treasures have been IN STORAGE, hidden from view, all these years. They did open a Fin de Siecle Museum down in the basement levels, appallingly lit, appallingly laid out, like a Token Afterthought Museum—it pains me to go there despite the wonderful works of art it contains. The old Museum of Modern Art was one of my favourite places in all the world, its continued closure is an open wound, and I look forward impatiently to its resurrection—but things move slowly in Brussels.

A bright blue-skied April day, not a cloud in the sky, but cold

A bright blue-skied April day, not a cloud in the sky, but cold, no more than 9ºC maximum expected today. At least by starting my drinking later today I give myself a chance of being at Fifth Avenue during the more “fertile” hours of 5-8, which means try to avoid it until then. Try to spend the afternoon in the Rue d’Aerschot. Soldiers still patrolling the streets in their pairs.

Sophie Kamaruddin on Bloomberg Hong Kong

1120 I arrive in the Max Hotel lounge on my second (and last) day. So as usual yesterday was really ruined by drink

1120 I arrive in the Max Hotel lounge on my second (and last) day. So as usual yesterday was really ruined by drink—to be precise by starting drinking too early (630am!) and getting to Fifth Avenue too early (130?). I hung on as long as I could hoping someone good would come in but they didn’t, then I grabbed a ridiculously large pizza on the way back to the hotel and that was it; out like a light to 8pm or so. Then the hangover made me just not want to move. Mentally I was trying to force myself to go back for a late session at Fifth, then a late session at Cine Paris before they closed, before on to Empire, but I just lay in bed watching the Real Madrid v Bayern Munich game and when I did force myself to Cine Paris at 1025 he told me they were already closed (he too was watching the game). Straight to Empire, just 4 ordinary girls and only ONE other customer, and crucially no Jennifer. Struggled to finish my one beer then came back to bed. A less than thrilling day in Brussels then but at least it was relatively cheap, though I seem to have got through nearly 90 euros.

Alice Merton – No Roots

In the hotel lounge. 1120. Too early for check in. The blondie passed back under my window as I was hoping

In the hotel lounge. 1120. Too early for check in. The blondie passed back under my window, as I was hoping, and has disappeared into the mini-supermarket shop over the road—and not reappeared. Perhaps she lives in the apartments above. Having those 2 pints of beer at St Pancras before 630am (!) was not really a good idea. Here on my first Jupiler I already feel sleepily drunk. Completely sexless, unerotic. Perhaps just go for a very early Cine Paris session, a very early Fifth Avenue session, then back mid-afternoon for a sleep; back out to Fifth after 8 for the late knockings and straight on to Empire.

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