So some bitch gets on the ICE at Aachen with her Burger King or McDonald’s—now the entire carriage stinks of her hot food. Thick as sh*t. Absolutely thick as sh*t. No desire to go to Fifth Avenue; no desire to go to Empire; most boring strip club in the world; suddenly realise how naughty Berlin still is—even those rough little places, Sissi, Monte Carlo or 77. From Gare du Midi, straight to Brussels Grill. It’s very busy and there only seems to be one waitress, so I’m starting to regret it. After this, check in, maybe a nap, then out to Cine Paris at least. Then all day Saturday in Brussels—just drinking & eating, drinking & eating.
On the ICE waiting to pull out of Koln. Still grey skies heavy with rainclouds, as it has been all the way since Berlin.
When I travel by DB ICE I feel light, weightless; switch to Austrian Railjet and I feel weighed down and clumpy again. The ICE is really the greatest travelling experience of my life; one of the great glories of Europe is the ICE. Bravo Deutsche Bahn; a good job. My deep respect for Germans which I have had since childhood, teenage years, just grows more with each year that passes. 100 per cent of French women report being sexually harassed on the Paris Metro; such a thing is unimaginable on German/Austrian underground. Of course, it happens one presumes, but in Germany and Austria it is an extraordinary exception rather than the rule. There is an intelligence, an integrity, one finds in Germany and Austria, that I do not feel anywhere else.
This is what I travel for. To find the fur coat wardrobe that contains the doorway to another Narnia. To find the secret mountain pass leading into Shangri La. To find the Lost World inside the Great Hole of Venezuela. To go on releasing the fly from the amber, releasing the woolly mammoth from the ice. Sparking dry tinder back to erotic flame. I am not losing my appetite for travel; on the contrary I am becoming more addicted to it than ever, and my debts are climbing faster than ever.
Vienna is snowing, and very cold. Good. It matches my heart. My blood is ice these days. Thank god for that; after I lost about 8 years of my life to: emotion. Hell is indeed other people, but it is also: emotions. I find it easier to resist the pull of emotions these days. I do not claim this is a good thing, I just state it as an observation.
If you ever hear I have murdered someone, it will not be for any crime of passion, or lust; it will be because they started eating near me, and I could not control my rage and disgust any longer. This c–t across the aisle from me on the train has been eating food on and off, picking it up, typing on his laptop, picking up his bottle of water, gulping it down, typing on his laptop, picking some more food up, for the last hour or more. I hate him, and wish he was dead. Don’t eat near me, please don’t. It is really the one thing that disgusts me the most. You could shit near me, and that disgust me less.