Snowing in Brussels at 3am. Probably was all night, but I think I must have been in bed by 5 or 6, after staggering back from my Brussels Grill steak. Then slept through to 1, had a wee, back to sleep till 3. So once again I did nothing in Rue d’Aerschot or Fifth. Coming away from Rue d’Aerschot I couldn’t help smiling and laughing to myself, and same while in Fifth, which tells me indeed that my sub-conscious WANTED me to do nothing in Brussels this time, which was why I couldn’t stop smiling and laughing for no apparent reason. The older I get the more I realise my sub-conscious rules my life. It is the massive Nile running underground inside me and it channels my thoughts and actions. It drags me with it. It takes a lot to override it and even then it never feels right, and turns out badly. So I have learnt to listen to it and let it take me where it wants. I have learned my sub-conscious knows best. It knows what is really necessary for my life, and this time NOT to spend any money in Brussels was definitely what was needed. Or maybe it was just telling me the quality is not here right now, save it for something that is worth it, and I will know when that something turns up. There was a moment in Fifth when I turned and caught sight of a Moroccan girl in lumberjack shirt that Leyla wore once, and I thought it was her. My heart started beating fast and I thought to myself I AM going to spend a lot of money after all but then I looked again and realised it was not her. Black bob Tatiana, Emily, Perrie were all there, but I felt no desire for any of them. I check out in 7 hours then have six hours to kill before my train. Probably cheapest just to sit in Cine Paris as long as possible.
There must be a reason why I never want to walk up to Gare du Nord—even though it is probably a shorter distance to Gare du Nord than to Fifth Avenue. And I think my sub-conscious tells me I really do not feel comfortable in the Rue d’Aerschot—even though the sexiest, most beautiful girls are to be found in the Rue d’Aerschot. My sub-conscious always directs me to where I feel MOST COMFORTABLE. In Vienna, that means Manhattan—because it is opposite my hotel probably. If I stayed at a hotel opposite Angelique no doubt I would be in Angelique every single night and would not feel comfortable in Manhattan. If I’m going to have sex, I really don’t want to have to walk far, before, but especially afterwards, when I’m shattered, and emotional. In Brussels, Fifth Avenue and Rue des Commercants, even though the quality of girls in these two places is so much less than at the Rue d’Aerschot. My sub-conscious is my river deep underground, my underground Nile, which directs me towards my true desires. So, I did not go to Rue d’Aerschot today after all—and always at back of my mind, Empire and Manuela. 1749. In Brussels Grill. Felt like a Brussels Grill steak and fancy a Domino’s Pizza back with me to follow. Indigestion heaven. No bread this time at Brussels Grill? Food, food, food, all I think about is food. No Ina at Fifth Avenue after 5pm. Monday night—unbelievably—busy like a Friday night. Party night. Packed with men.
But as I get older, I feel my river is more & more cutting its own course, and I am more & more coming closer to my true self, and more & more fulfilling my natural destiny. The prospect of real relationship, marriage, grows ever more & more remote. It can never be for me. I want other things, stronger and stronger. My addictions are not the temptation away from the course of my life; my addictions ARE the main course of my life. My addictions are my Nile, my Mississippi, my Rhine, my Danube. They are the main course of my life which give life to everything else around them. Indulging my addictions brings me to life and invigorates every other area of my life. I can feel happy and relaxed at home and at work as long as I am rampantly indulging my addictions at all other times. A happy life seems to me predicated on the ability to indulge the RAMPANCY of one’s true nature.
I reckon in 2014 I had four great days; days when I ——————————. Four days in 365 I think is not enough. I have not had any such days in 2015. I do have a belief that I am creating a body of work that will one day come to mean something, like the writings of Samuel Pepys. It may not have value now, but like Coal and Diamonds and Oil, it needs Time to bring value to it. This sense of my own specialness was always my best and last defence against depression that dominated most of my life, and eventually the defeater and vanquisher of that depression. My sense of greatness DEFEATED my black depressions; AND my bitter, pathetic little enemies. They had no idea who they had taken on; no idea they had bitten off more than they could chew. I almost felt sorry for them. Their resources were so much less than mine; their “hinterland” was non-existent. The secret source of my Nile was always a bewildering mystery to them. This is how great people always triumph over the small people.
I love this story of the diamond that has been shot up from 500 miles below the Earth’s surface at about 60mph, and it now has revealed to scientists that there is a huge band of water at that level that contains more water than in all the Earth’s oceans combined. People have these depths, too. This is my secret Nile, this is the secret source of my Nile, this is where my subconscious flows deep below my conscious surface. A steamy, sensual, languid, sometimes tempestuous, stormy Nile, but it absolutely affects all the weather on my surface, and occasionally sends me urgent messages so powerful that it affects the climate of the world, and sometimes spits up rough diamonds from the deep. Like this fog today. Like the winter being the rainiest winter ever recorded, at a time when I was splitting up from —–. Don’t tell me the two things are not connected! You are a fool, and know nothing about anything!
When you go through life alone you are skinless and defenceless, and all and sundry can land blows on you. When you have someone you care for, their love protects you against everything; only they themselves can hurt you then. I have noticed, however, that whenever you split up, or seem about to split up, your enemies re-emerge from the woodwork and full upon you with savage glee, the savage envy of the dunces, like the Russians on Napoleon’s army on the way back from Moscow. The enemies, subdued and cowed by your love for your partner, are just waiting their chance to fall upon you again; like a virus lying dormant in your body, just waiting for the moment when fighting some other virus has left you momentarily weakened and vulnerable. I feel I have an intimate understanding of enemies; I have moved bemused and surprised through their futile attempts to throw themselves at me and destroy me over the years. They did not know who they had taken on. They bit off a bit more than they could chew. They threw themselves at me like Foreman at Ali. Like moths against a lighthouse. And could not understand why their blows just kept bouncing off. They grew increasingly enraged, and increasingly frustrated, and increasingly frenzied, and just smashed themselves to insensibility more and more. Meanwhile, I played them as one must always play one’s enemies: like a piano. I flaunted myself in their faces more and more. I provoked and provoked and provoked. They could not understand the secret source of my Nile; what kept me going. Their jealousy fuelled me. Their electricity brought me to life like Frankenstein’s monster in a most terrible thunder and lightning storm. Nietzsche I think termed it the great separation; only after the great war has been unleashed upon you can then occur the great separation which at last gives you the space you need to achieve great things. But then you fall in love, and one slightly cold response from your beloved can destroy you in a second. It is this your long-forgotten enemies are lying in wait for; this moment to come out of the woodwork, to crawl out of the pond, and fall upon you again, when you are low. I once sat on a park bench in a state of absolutely abject misery while in Australia, Brisbane I believe. I watched a wasp attacking an ant. As the minutes passed by more and more ants came streaming to attack the wasp, until the wasp was completely overwhelmed, subsumed, murdered by these ants, who then proceeded to drag the wasp away with them. I have never forgotten that.