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

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).

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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.

Last night I made a rule for myself—

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.

Even though the two Cine Paris films were rubbish how lovely it is to have a porn cinema to sit in and enjoy a cold beer at the same time

Even though the two Cine Paris films were rubbish, how lovely it is to have a porn cinema to sit in, and enjoy a cold beer at the same time. Even though the Empire girls were rubbish (Jennifer excepted), how lovely to have a strip club to stroll to at 1 o’clock in the morning just around the corner from my hotel. Even though there have been no stars at Fifth Avenue this time (Inna, Leyla, Diane), how lovely to sit all afternoon and evening in a bar full of floozies, floozies who do NOT bother you or hustle for business.

I don’t want to drink any more beer tonight, don’t want to go to any more naughty places, don’t want to spend any more money

I don’t want to drink any more beer tonight, don’t want to go to any more naughty places, don’t want to spend any more money. I just have a craving for lots of water. And classical music. 4PM now. I will go out at 7 to see if I can grab any food from the station; if not I will go to Café West End. But mainly I’m thinking I need to drink more sparkling water. I feel an unquenchable thirst. Friday afternoon I arrive in Frankfurt. The train ticket is paid for and the hotel is paid for. Maybe I will take a stroll to the Städel when I arrive. I have overdone drink, and overdone the floozies. I feel suddenly allergic to both.

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After leaving the Dorint bar an eventful trip to WSK

After leaving the Dorint bar, an eventful trip to WSK. The floozies still there. Three of them, all very nice, in their blowsy floozie way. None of them would make it into a Rue d’Aerschot window, but for a dark porn kino all 3 of them were just right. Just what the doctor ordered. Christina the busty older German blonde. A Turkish-looking brunette with a ponytail. And Mongolian Anita. Anita one of these girls you meet in these places periodically—a star. Charismatic. Because of her I stayed rather too long. Now, here I am, back in the Café West End.

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149 Having a third Stella here in the Dome

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!