Fascinating to just read through my Alice stuff. Brilliant powerful stuff about the agonising decision whether to end my marriage or carry on prolonging it, prolonging the relationship with the woman I love more than anything in the world or regaining my “freedom” & loneliness & cold icy air of the mountains. I think I’m ready to work on this book now and get it up on Amazon.
The only regret I feel from my marriage is that we did not make Phoebe. I feel like she must be angry at us, “mummy and daddy, why have you still not made me yet! I would love you so much!”. And she would be a lovely quiet little girl, like her daddy, not loud & manic like her mother. I have the horrible feeling that if I ever did have a child with another woman, I would never really love her, because I should have made her with ——.
I feel no craving whatsoever for another relationship. It is one of those things you should definitely do once in your life, like climbing Mount Everest or going to the Moon, but that you wouldn’t want to do a second time. I never feel lonely anymore. I still feel married to my wife, even though I have not seen her for 300 days. In fact our marriage feels happier than ever. We email each other now & again, keep in touch. It feels a perfect relationship. If only all marriages could be as happy as this. She makes no demands on me and I make no demands on her.
When it is cold there is no people watching to be done; everyone is wrapped up. Better to stay home working hard in the winter months. Return to the pubs and windows in Spring. 302 already. Day flying by. Listening to The Governor’s Consort has made me unexpectedly sad about ——, the consolations of marriage, when she really loved me, and even when angry at me, quietly begged me never to leave her. I still believe we will be together again, one day.
One day they will open a museum dedicated to me, and at the heart of it will be my relationship with my wife, the way the really moving heart of the Magritte Museum is his lifelong love affair with his wife Georgette, and the photos of the two of them together are really so much more affecting than any of the paintings. My museum will store all our email conversations, all the voicemail messages from her I saved on dictaphone, all the little souvenirs, cards, I kept from her. When historians and biographers of the future really want to find out about me, at the centre of me they will find her. She is the sun at the centre of my solar system.
I love Brussels. As Munich and then Berlin’s stock has sunk, Brussels and Vienna have risen. The destruction of Stuttgarter Platz destroyed Berlin for me, and as for Munich it was probably only my young, starry-eyed naivety that ever made that place seem special. The relatively new discoveries of Fifth Avenue and Cine Paris in Brussels has brought Brussels back to life for me in this second golden age (the first was before my marriage, the second after it) (not saying that the long 3½ years of marriage wasn’t also a golden age of a different kind, of course). The discovery of WSK and Fortuna Kinos has brought Vienna back to life for me.