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.
Ah this new Asian barmaid is gorgeous. She shyly berated me, “I can also bring the drink to you”, because I waited at the end of the bar for my drink instead of letting her bring it to my table, but sweetly. So I have broken my imposition, to always make sure I eat breakfast when on holiday. But Vienna is a different dynamic to Brussels—the real places to go are at night, even after midnight. Daytime is not important. There is just WSK really. Just got a map from reception—just marking the Bad Timing and Night Porter sites on the map makes me want to visit them—now. U6 down to Längenfeldgasse (2 stops) for Bad Timing. Then from Meidling (closest to Bad Timing), U4 to Kettenbrückengasse (4 stops) for Night Porter hotel and café. Then back to Westbahnhof for food, then sleep. Tempted. This Asian barmaid has inspired me, put fire in my blood. 219. Barmaids until 3 then the night barman starts. Not long to enjoy my Asian love. Or alternatively let me just eat today then sleep, and tomorrow do the Bad Timing and Night Porter things. Yes, better. Because today really is about the night bars. 229 rather leave now, before the night man starts, so I can give my tip to the gorgeous Asian.
Today I want to concentrate on the night bars, which means not drinking too much during the day and being in bed early this afternoon, so I am up early tonight to go out again. Therefore I might just get the train up to Burggasse Peep (or walk) then back for a pizza slice and Subway from the station then back to bed again! Let me concentrate on the night bars tonight. I can even get up to WSK for the last hour before walking back down.
I must admit I am curious now about what a 50 euro private dance in a place like Dolly or Candy Bar would be like; I think those girls would be quite naughty; more so than in the bigger Atlantic City or Tiffany. I will give it a go next time I stop over in Munich. Perhaps there IS some bang for your buck. Anyway, I’m stopping off in Frankfurt on my way back (presuming I don’t change it at the last minute and carry on all the way to Brussels). Not particularly cold; for December ridiculously mild. Boringly so. Maybe not particularly exciting in Munich last night, but it was titillating enough to get me in the mood for it now. A rising sense of excitement as we head towards Vienna. 0848 Still 2 hours 40 minutes to go. But a lovely quiet train (1st class would have been even better of course). My erections coming & going in a pleasantly heady, lubricious mood.
216 Back in the Plaza bar. Flurries of snow outside, stopped already. I decided I don’t want to go to David Bowie’s Berlin house and next door café ENOUGH. I can no longer be bothered. It is too damn cold. No, it’s snowing again. Wow, hard now. Not sure what to do. I would like to pop back in to King George and/or Caligula but the trouble with flat-rate 100 euros entry f—k all you want brothels is it deters you from ever going in as you might not fancy anyone. I would love to go in, have a look at the talent on offer, have a couple of drinks and then move on, but at King George and Caligula that would set me back 100 euros even to do that (and last time I went to King George I went with girl to room only to have her demanding more money before having sex with me, which seemed to run counter to the whole idea of the place. When I refused she just gave me a handjob and wouldn’t even take her bra off! Scammed!). Better to save that money for Vienna—all those night bars filled with floozies are free to get into, just a beer to pay for. The new black ponytail Yugoslavian receptionist just came through the bar. She is like Princess Mort from Orpheé. On check in, she was checking in someone else, her blouse tight over bosoms and low cut and falling open, and you could always see the top of her cleavage. Quite intoxicating.
Berlin has so many memories for me, but (like Munich) that is all it is now, just memories. Memories of Yulia in Hanky Panky (now gone), Riccarda in Mon Cheri (now gone), Iga in Golden Gate (now gone), Olga & Alla in Mazurka (now gone). So sad. The high nights I had in Berlin. Life-changing. I’d had carnal experiences in Soho for years, but Berlin took me to another level entirely, and really opened me up as a human being, and dare I say, as a man. I came out of the chrysalis a butterfly, thanks to Berlin. I bloomed and blossomed thanks to Berlin, and came back to London so much more confident. It is cinema that taught us how to live, said Godard (who I revere). Well, it is strip clubs and floozie bars that taught me how to live. How to talk to women, which is the same thing. So yes, with the wiping out of Stuttgarter Platz Berlin really died for me. The way Soho did with the closure of Carnival Strip, Astral Cinema, Sunset Cinema (and much later Soho Cinema and Boulevard Strip). The place I lost my Vienna Virginity (Pour Platin) is closed down, knocked down, completely gone, a big hole in the Gurtel where it used to be. The place I lost my Berlin virginity is gone, turned into a (s)wanky cocktail bar. Amazingly the place I lost my original virginity, 61 Dean Street Soho, is still open for customers. I include this note for future biographers, and future idolators who may wish to make pilgrimage to the important places of MY life. I remain convinced it will happen. Convinced of my historical importance, even if nobody realises it yet. No one realised Van Gogh’s significance until long after he died; Kafka, etc. Even Samuel Pepys. I am writing and living my life (as a work of art) for posterity.
There are more bars in the Gurtel still open than I thought. Just last night I saw Club Exzess, Bar Josephine, Bar Vienna Night Bar, Queen Night Bar, in addition to the ones I already know, Alm Bar, Angelique 1 & 2, Flamingo, Okay Bar, Bar Haus 6, Manhattan and Tete a Tete. I liked the atmosphere in Exzess (probably because all the girls were busy & so not one of them approached me & bothered my peaceful beer! Most gentlemen would probably hate going to a brothel & not being approached by one single girl; for me it is the absolute ideal situation), the number of customers, but its girls were not as sexy as the Manhattan girls. And Adelina, Adelina, is on a level all of her own. Up there with the legends of my travels like Yulia, Riccarda, Iga, Olga & Alla. Maria. I suppose the horrible situation and likely nowhere to go of Brussels when I get back there Monday night kind of forced me into returning to Manhattan and doing something with Adelina, as it may be my last chance of glory on this trip (or ever), and I am glad I did.