350PM I start my fifth—final—Stella in the Dome. Oh but now the maitre d’ is killing me; replaced the empty peanut bowl with little slices of sausage with dabs of mustard! Gorgeous! Oh and now he’s given me chunks of cheddar cheese with pepper on top! You are killing me, monsieur! But it certainly precludes the need for Brussels Grill! I have to force myself not to finish these all in one go even before I’ve started my beer, otherwise he will just bring more and as my mother always tells me, cheese is the most fattening thing you can eat. So no, let me slow down on the cheese and stick to the beer. Mavi Phoenix Longtime again, tempting me back to Vienna in the New Year. Like a Pill again. My ur-song. Kylie Can’t Get You Out of my Head (Brussels, circa 2001 or 1999? Even more of an ur-song, if so).
323. I wonder if I will be treated to a sexy barmaid here at the Dome, or does the lunchtime boss go all the way in these cost-cutting days? Would be lovely to see Aisha again as a final treat before I go home. Still a source of many erections/fantasies for me, even when back home in London. Rohff Qui est l’exemple (Brussels c.2003. FIRST Golden Age! Proper old school).
Nice to be back in my Dome window seat; even a little splattering of rain out there to reward me, as if to tell me “Yes, NOW you are back in the right process”. One’s erotic fetish is a process—a checklist of activities that lead one closer and closer inexorably to orgasm; and I’ve disrupted that for a long time now by drinking in the Max lounge just staring out the window; I made this mistake in the Dorint Vienna as well. I should always drink IN MY ROOM, with porn on my computer and music on the TV (having first established there are no sexy barmaids in the hotel bar, of course). To keep myself permanently on that priapic edge. Permanently on the verge of orgasm. So then when you do go out you feel as high as a kite and it makes everything you do feel so much more exciting.
149 Having a third Stella here in the Dome; I find I am already becoming increasingly excited at the thought my return to Fifth Avenue is growing ever closer. This is why I travel. The beer goes down so much easier in the Rue D’Aerschot, and in Fifth Avenue, as I know I am right next to the half-naked floozies. How the proximity of a whore excites the blood of a man. A whole bar of them & whole road of them, even more so. So 205 already and still half my beer to finish here in the Dome. I am not behind yesterday at all, all of a sudden. Plus vite, monsieur, otherwise all the windows will be empty!