Yes my old reticence will return once I get to Fifth Avenue, but if there was a great videokabin place just next door, I would be so much more rampant in Fifth Avenue. If I ran a knocking shop I would make sure there were also some high quality videokabins on site. The girls would make so much more money.
Quite tempted to try the Bavarium restaurant downstairs in the Europa Centre (that hideous heartbreaking bland replacement for the legendary Romanisches Café of 1930s glory) next to the Irish Pub again; that will really make me want to sleep for a couple of hours. It wasn’t the best steak dish I’ve ever had but it is better than what “Laggis” gave me yesterday. Third beer, starting to think only of food. Good. Unlike Brussels, I don’t really have anywhere naughty to go in Berlin during the day. In Brussels, so easy to sit in Cine Paris all afternoon, or sit in Fifth Avenue all afternoon. Not got anywhere quite like that in Berlin—though, after all, I could sit in King George all afternoon. If only they didn’t charge 100 euros to get in [though now looking at their website they are claiming it is only 49 euros!? Blast it! Worth it for that price! Caligula still charging 89 before 6pm though?]!
I have a lust to DO WORSE again. Already I am Nana. The reason Freud had so many female hysterics to deal with in 1890s Vienna was that women did not have the option of the brothel and the separée. Why ever not? There should have been such luxurious art nouveau arcadian erotic spaces for women as well as men. Everyone needs to unwind occasionally. My mad rausch is taking me over so soon on the heels of the fog. This oscillation from pole to pole is so crazy. It is like the Hysteria scything pendulum in Leicester Square. They have now got a black & gold ‘Oscar Wilde Café’. I have not yet partaken as it looks too posh. Have I done it? Have I finally brought myself back to life again? I know that you’ve done worse to me. I’m a HYPOCRITE. I dish it out but I can’t take it. I know, you think it’s wrong. Well, maybe you’re right, but this is MY SONG. Lush. What a fantastic word lush is.
The Café West End Alt Wiener Rostbraten blew me out as usual, and it was all I could do to stumble back to the hotel to sleep. I woke after 10pm and forced myself out just after midnight to try Maxim at Karlsplatz. It was as bad as I always expected it to be. Lots—lots—of skinny-looking girls, coming up to you one after the other. The dancing was pretty non-stop but as always topless only. You can fuck the girls, so why on earth can you not see them without knickers? Bizarre. The place had the feel of a Browns or Horns in London, which means pretty awful. So disappointed was I that I just left after one beer and came straight back to the hotel and back to bed. Good thing was the metro runs all night in Vienna on Fridays & Saturdays. Oh, but haha there was such a long wait for the next metro back to Westbahnhof I ended up walking all the way back to the hotel from Maxims. A 20-minute walk perhaps.
I got the bus easy enough down to Dominicusstrasse and the kino. Very pushy girls. Went next door to Lustgarten. Even more pushy girls. On to King George. A very busty black-haired Colombian girl; I bought her a 25 euro drink with 3 ten euro notes but I never got the 5 euros change back. In the room she asked for 20 euros but I’d already paid 100 euros to “sleep with as many girls as you want” so said no, so she proceeded to give me a handjob only and would not take her top off, or let me touch her. So much for the flat rate fuck-as-many-as-you-want brothel! I left after that and just made the very long walk back. Anyway I had to give it a try so I do not regret the money I spent. The dancing of the two girls who did bother to dance was the sexiest part of the visit, same as last time. They both danced barefeet which I always find sexy.
You go to a brothel and you don’t fancy anyone. You drink in a pub watching people pass and you fancy everyone.
So then I am in a brothel and can’t raise the energy to do: anything. Yet here in the pub I see girls passing and feel so yearning to f–k their brains out. The psychology of Eros continues to fascinate and bewilder. It is my desire to stay with my wife until I am old & grey, and she is old & grey. I never understood how a man could still love a woman who is old & grey & wrinkled, until I met my wife, and now I know I will love her more the older & greyer & more wrinkled she gets.