238 already. Not much time to have my steak, get back to hotel, get my taxi and get to Eurostar; but should be OK. This brief visit to Brussels makes me want to stay for a long one again—3 or 4 days here; just to relax and take it easy. 240. Need to be back at hotel by 255 latest!
Brussels Grill looked packed so I came back to Boston Steak House for the first time. It is a bit emptier but, as I expected, more expensive! Everything is extra [turns out when I got the bill it wasn’t, even though I am sure the menu says it is]. Salad that comes with the steak in Brussels Grill is an extra cost here. As is the sauce. But—the waitress is absolutely gorgeous. Curvy voluptuous young brunette. 10/10. What to say. Brussels. The England result cheered me so much, so I was in a positive mood. Cine Paris was OK. Not great, but not bad. Just pleased to see it is still there, despite rumours of its imminent demise. Then the street girls were pretty fantastic—my old “friend” Beatris, with cleavage spilling everywhere, her colleague on the other side of the road, similarly; my old friend black Bridget massive breasts bulging on next corner; 5th Avenue was poor, I’m afraid, though it felt good to be back there. NO stars left—Andrea left long ago, Lucy came & went so quickly, and now even Inna gone. One blonde girl, just going to a room with someone, was interesting, but that was it. Window girls, post-6pm, nothing special. So nothing special at all, but enough to keep me trying.
716pm. I came back to sleep after my Brussels Grill steak but couldn’t sleep, so I’m up again and drinking another Jupiler. I want to see another naked woman tonight. Zinip has given me the taste for it. Beatrice? Brigit? Inna? Or just make do with the topless Empire girls. They should be open in 90 minutes or so.
All the way to the end of Rue d’Aerschot and Zinip—big mega-bosomed Turkish Zinip. She was simpatico. I like her. Just 30 euros. Back to Brussels Grill. I didn’t see her come in to Café Jimmy earlier, but when I looked around there was Beatrice—black coat, black trousers; always surprises me how voluptuous she is. She didn’t even talk to me this time. In Fifth Avenue no one for me, too early even for Inna. Again, I’m not even getting bread & butter. I pinch some from another table. I’d like to go back to Fifth Avenue before sleeping, and maybe go back for Beatrice, but after this steak I’ll probably just be ready for bed. Bearnaise or mayonnaise, said the waitress, mishearing my sauce. Now I understand why I got mayonnaise last time. 457pm. Hopefully I can get up and out to Empire tonight. Tomorrow? I suppose I could keep Beatrice till tomorrow, last thing I do before I go home. Cine Paris had a half decent film—Anisa & Lola at Nurse’s School, and I was undisturbed by the perverts. And the upstairs cinema was closed, for some unknown reason.
How strong my sub-conscious is. It keeps me away from Rue d’Aerschot, even though my conscious mind is telling me the sexiest girls are there. My sub-conscious propels me, and keeps sending me back to Rue des Commercants (and Beatris) and Fifth Avenue. So on my 6th day, I remain celibate. Chaste. Un-violated. Disappointed I didn’t get the bread & butter this time at Brussels Grill; perhaps it is only for early afternoons. Starving. Think I will die of hunger. For sure, I need a Domino’s Pizza to follow this Brussels Grill. Indigestion be damned. My sub-conscious is always saving my money for Lucy; or for Adelina in Vienna. It is a strong resistance. I listen to my sub-conscious, then I know what to do. So a 6th day in Brussels goes by, without sex. Bravo. Still that money in my pocket, for next time, or for Vienna. 6pm. Doubt I will be awake in time for Empire tonight. No chance. Let’s be honest.
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 Inna at Fifth Avenue after 5pm. Monday night—unbelievably—busy like a Friday night. Party night. Packed with men. Celebrating the end of the weekend.
The hotel lounge was full of noisy people 10 minutes ago, but the housekeeping lady with the hoover has cleared them all out. Bravo, madame! Kept company last night by one of those wonderful/awful Jean Rollin lesbian vampire films, The Rape of the Vampire. Released in France in May 1968 and very very controversial at the time though it is hard now to understand why. How thrilled I am that the Max Hotel have regained the missing channels—AB3, Action and D17. Quite unexpected, but very much welcomed, even if D17 seems to have some obsession with appalling preening ladyboy Kendji Girac. If you ARE really handsome, then you don’t need to PLAY handsome as well. He lays it on so thick he makes himself contemptible. He IS handsome, so he doesn’t need to keep putting on that little smile and flashing eyes. Play AGAINST your handsomeness, like I do, and we would not find you so pathetic. Sean Connery was handsome but he acted brutally. That is why men love him. A handsome man who tries to make himself look even more handsome is contemptible to other men, I think. 12 midday, still on my 2nd beer. Bit steadier today. Best memories of this holiday? The Brussels Grill steaks and Domino’s Pizzas. That says it all; but what fantastic memories they are.