Well, the world’s been turned on its head—Le Coin was better than Fifth Avenue. Four gorgeous voluptuous girls—I would have liked all four of them but by now I was too drunk and I only had 70 euros left—the exact cut 20 to house, and 50 to girl. One more beer and that was it, too late. Suddenly I think in future I will stay in the IBIS again, rather than the Max!
The usual two rubbish music channels on my hotel TV—Cstar (French) and MTV VIVA (Austrian). Not one single memorable song to take home with me. Yes, a very low key trip to Brussels—fourth in a row. I may even walk back up to Rue d’Aerschot to check out the window girls again. Or down to Le Coin. 1131 Third beer. When I think of — or the black duty manageress I always get strong erections, without fail; thought of them does turn me on every time. Not seen the black one for a long, long time. Feel like going to one of those hostess bars tonight—just to see some different floozies; not to do anything with them; far too expensive; maybe try Bellagio in Rue des Cendres (formerly Relay 7, formerly numerous other names), pretty much on the site of the hospital Baudelaire was taken to after his life-ending collapse, or that one just down from Cine Paris, Club l’Intime. Just to do something different on my last night. That is if I can wake up in time of course.
So, yes, that has been my trip so far. Coach driver from hell, coach trip from hell, astounding astounding 10 out of 10 white vest girl on the boat; underwhelming sight of —- & ——–. See if anything picks up today—but like I say it has to be something random, something completely unexpected. Familiarity kills lust. Even the sexiest floozie, I can only sleep with her once, twice at most, before I lose interest. Anyway, I will never tire or give up on Brussels. Just being here is lovely. Fifth Avenue usually underwhelming, but I have out of the blue met so many 10 out of 10s there that it is always exciting to think about going there. And a proper porn cinema. And the window girls. I went to Fifth Avenue and Empire strip club, but the only real erection I’ve had here in Brussels is watching Sean Paul She Doesn’t Mind video on my TV this morning (and thinking about the white vest girl).
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.
Last night I made a rule for myself—in future I will never again enter a brothel/night bar/brasserie à femmes, call them what you will, without ——- one of the girls. Because this is ridiculous. To keep going to these places and keep leaving without having done anything is ridiculous. In future I will force myself to always go with one of the girls before I allow myself to leave. If there is no one I fancy, I will just go with the one that is least bad. That means waiting till I can travel with plenty of money. But I must start this. It is like going to a porn cinema without masturbating. Ridiculous. And never go to Rue d’Aerschot without doing something with one of the girls, too. This too will actually inspire me to save money to make this viable. Now, with this new rule in mind, I look forward to coming back to Brussels again. Even in Manhattan in Vienna in December, there were at least 3 very desirable girls but again I did nothing. This must stop. There is no point travelling at all if I keep doing nothing when I get there.