Beer, pornography & prostitution—the greatest things in life. My 3 drugs. My 3 opiums

Beer, pornography & prostitution—the greatest things in life. My 3 drugs. My 3 opiums. I travel to indulge the opiums. Already in Soho (since my career in infamy began in 1992) I have lost Carnival Strip Club, Astral Cinema, Sunset Cinema, Soho Cinema, Boulevard Striptease, Pleasure Lounge & Peep Show, 50% of the “French models” flats; in Berlin almost all of Stuttgarter Platz, Chocolat, Hanky Panky/Stutti Frutti, Mon Cheri, Golden Gate, Starlight, Night Dreams, Blue Bananas, Cascade Sex Kino all gone; in Vienna Pour Platin, where I lost my Vienna virginity. Not just closed, but knocked down, razed to the ground, an empty hole in the Gurtel like a missing tooth. It is like someone is deliberately going after all the places that have given me erotic pleasure, illicit thrills, sleazy pleasure, and closing them down one by one to leave me with NOWHERE left to go. Last year, I lost Fortuna Kino in Vienna and Flying Scotsman in London; this year I am sure WSK in Vienna and the street girls of Brussels Rue des Commercants. This is why I want to travel more & more, faster & faster. You may wonder why I have never gone to the most famous red light districts, of Amsterdam and Hamburg, even Antwerp; but I am a creature of habit. Brussels, Munich, Vienna and Berlin are my homes. Well, Munich is over for me, and in fact I am more likely to go to Nuremberg, and Berlin feels pretty much over as well, with the 90% loss of Stuttgarter Platz. When I see strip clubs and night bars close down, I feel sad. Normal, respectable establishments make me feel so depressed. I do indeed have a mind completely bitten by the serpent of sex, and I cannot understand why everyone is not like me. But, it has to be sex without emotion, sex without “relationship”. Pure priapic, erotic rampancy. Sex for the pleasure of sex, sex for the visual pleasure of sex. Sex as just hands on pornography. I am really phobic to emotions. Only one woman has ever got through my defences, and remains “behind my defences” (in a kind of perpetual offside position).

I feared the Café Westend might be packed on a Sunday afternoon

I feared the Café Westend might be packed on a Sunday afternoon but in fact it is as quiet as I’ve ever known it. I love travel; but I have no interest for “new” places. I have found some places that I love, in Vienna, in Berlin, in Brussels, in Munich, and I just want to keep returning to these places. I have zero interest in Asia, or China, or Australia, or America, or South America, or Scandinavia, or anywhere else. I have found the places I feel at home (not in London, for sure) and I just want to keep coming back to these four places. (I have found the woman I love, and I now have zero interest in finding any other woman to love; I just want to keep coming back to her). Frankfurt has a massive red light district, Hamburg has a massive red light district but I have no desire to go to these places; Berlin and Vienna red light districts are, now, almost non-existent, but I still prefer to keep coming back to these places for my jollies, as “Jack the Ripper” referred to it.
cafe westend (2)

My journals offer a word record of Munich, Berlin, Vienna and Brussels

My journals offer a word record of Munich, Berlin, Vienna and Brussels. These are my four ‘Cities in the Autumn Stars’. They are the centre of my life. In generations to come people will look back through my journals and be able to learn about those things from long ago called ‘red light districts”, those things called brothels, night bars, tingel-tangels, puffs, bordellos, prostitutes, whores—all quaint phrases from another age, another world. People will not be able to believe that once upon a time in European cities you could stroll into a bar filled with floozies dressed in nothing but bra and knickers or lingerie and sit drinking with them before taking them to a room to have sex with them for money. It will be mindblowing to them to think that such things were ever allowed! Like how I feel reading about opium dens, or reading Coleridge and De Quincey about laudanum addiction and opium addiction.

Gascogne gone, California gone, all of Stuttgarter Platz gone—the sex scene is dying all over Europe

Gascogne gone, California gone, all of Stuttgarter Platz gone—the sex scene is dying, all over Europe, not just in London. There is nothing in it for the girls anymore; the ones that are left are mostly the most desperate examples of womankind, women incapable of getting a boyfriend in normal life. You used to be able to see stunning, 10 out of 10 beautiful women in this world, because they could make such huge money and it gave them independence of men; but not anymore. The 10 out of 10s have long gone. From the club scene at least. You will find them contactable on the internet perhaps.

If I’m in a strange city or even in my own I always feel more comfortable and relaxed in the red light districts

If I’m in a strange city, or even in my own, I always feel more comfortable and relaxed in the red light districts. Even if I’m drinking in a normal pub, I like it to be next to a strip club, I feel so much more at ease. Tallulah and Esmeralda calm my soul. To do something naughty, and cross some line, is so exciting and so relaxing, even if, or perhaps especially if, one is married to someone deeply loved. Like soldiers returning from the first world war taking morphine to cope with the pain of their wounds but then becoming addicted to the morphine, my response to despair was pornography and prostitution; when the despair passed and I became happy I remained addicted to the pornography and prostitution.