I used to call it the Kunthotel, in Kuntstraße. I was so uninspired and unaroused this time it never even crossed my mind. In those days the glorious floozies of Hanky Panky, Chocolat, Mon Cheri, Starlight, Night Dreams, Golden Gate, Blue Bananas, Sissi and Monte Carlo took me to erotic highs I had never known before in my life. Those days are long gone.
I was dizzy with erotic anticipation in the weeks & days leading up to my trip and I wondered whether I would be able to carry it with me and still feel the same when I got there; as I suspected, no. During my stay in Berlin I felt almost completely a-sexual. But as always it just takes one beautiful bottom or one beautiful pair of bosoms to get me in the mood again. I hope it happens in Brussels. My train to Koln is already 21 minutes late, giving me just 13 minutes to spare to catch my connection. I sat drinking my one beer surrounded by floozies in King George, Club 77, Monte Carlo and Sissi Bar and felt completely unmoved and unaroused by all of them. I hope something happens in Brussels to shake me out of my torpor. This is madness.
Blazing blue skies as we leave Berlin; not a cloud in the sky after 3 days of pitiless, remorseless rain. As always when I have a hangover I feel randy yet when I’m actually in the night bars surrounded by floozies I feel NOTHING. All I want to do on this long 4 hour trip back to Cologne is masturbate. A low key trip to Berlin. I did not go out on my last night. Several drinks in the bar, then up to bed. Couldn’t be bothered to waste money in Ciro or Caligula, or on the poor kabins of BEC. Save it for Brussels.
Stuttgarter Platz has been reduced to 10% of what it was, if you want to talk of quantity of clubs. But if you want to factor in the QUALITY of the remaining floozies, just 1% of what it was—back in 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006. Thus the ice retreats, further and further. Climate change irreversible—just a question of WHEN all the ice will gone, not IF it will happen. You mark my words, not only whores and porn cinemas, but one day in our lifetime even pornography will be banned, even masturbation will be banned. Anyone possessing an old black & white photo of a naked woman will be hunted down and ostracised like a pariah. Thus the emasculation, castration (Islamisation?) of Europe runs out of control. 102 already. The atmosphere today in Brussels so much lighter and more at ease than my last visit—in the immediate aftermath of the bombings. The grief and fear was thick in the air back then. Lighter now, soldiers still patrolling in twos all around Midi Station. A reassuring sight; whether they make much of a difference or not, a reassuring sight.
Christelle Martinette’s breasts really do remind me how much I would love a real big breast floozie again (noticed Angelique/Sissi is back at the Freudenhaus again). Quite a lot to do in Berlin! Bowie’s apartment and café, Hitler’s bunker AND Sissi at Freudenhaus? I AM the Protector, the Grandsignore. And I am protecting myself. I am protecting the Garion inside myself. I am protecting the grand genius inside myself, the Neo latent in me who will one day grow and spread his wings, and explode, like a Shakespeare, a Samuel Pepys. You do not yet know my power. I am protecting myself, like they protect Damien in The Omen, until he comes into his power.
But oh I love smut! A stripper unveiling her huge breasts, and huge arse, and juicy pussy in my face. A porn cinema fill of naked slopping cocks. A nightbar full of floozies who will let you stroke their arses as they rub your cock.
I love to be surrounded by floozies. I love to be in videokabins. I love to be in porn cinemas. I love to see big breast strippers. BERLIN. BRUSSELS. NUREMBERG.