A MIND COMPLETELY BITTEN BY THE SERPENT OF SEX "You may think that the Grand Tour is about politics, & culture, & art, and you would be quite right; but it is also about gambling, and drinking, and sex. Particularly sex."
The usual gorgeous slice of pizza from the station on my arrival, and a roll to have later. Very pretty new blonde barmaid but desperately thin. If she gained another 5 stone in weight she’d be sensational. Still, still, still, I have the feeling I could even now bring Munich to some kind of life—if I tried to do something with one of the Schillerstraße girls. In my first Munich golden age I had great experiences because I was prepared to splash the cash. I never do in Munich anymore; I still wonder if—expensive as it might be, as much money as it might require—if there is SOME fly I could awake from the amber. It would be one of the small places. Not Atlantic City or Tiffany. They are too regulated and boring. The small places up the road are a little bit more “wild west” as it were. I’m talking myself into returning to Munich but I’ve ruled out any more long train journeys for a long while; just make do with Brussels only in 2017 for a long time, to save money. 2017 is going to be a year for finally TACKLING my debts. Not just keep hoping by some miracle they will come down by themselves, but actually doing something and making sacrifices to make sure it happens. I’ve already started, but it will be a while before the improvements really come through in the figures. “Stop drinking!” “Stop looking at pussy!” I hear my beloved ex-wife saying, bless her. What a truly wonderful person she quite often can be. I don’t know if it is my imagination but the Dorint Zipfer seems a fraction colder than usual.
And yet 0810 on a Sunday morning and I cannot wait to get up, go to shop, and crack open my first 2 cans of Jupiler of the day again! Yes I fancy an Irish Breakfast today. Hopefully they are open at 11am on Sunday. That Domino’s Pizza gave me massive indigestion last night but oh it was lovely. First Domino’s I’ve had since I lived with my wife. What a pleasure, but how I pay. I commence a holiday thinking of naughty things, but by 3rd day all I can think about is food, food, food.
I’ve reached that stage of my holiday where I just want to stay in my big white bed with my big white pillows, and not go out. Saturday night I had no desire to go out at all, so just stayed in my lovely white bed listening to classical music on the radio (on my phone). A waste of a Saturday. I started drinking too early again, and then just tried to carry on drinking till it was late enough for Inna to arrive at Fifth Avenue, so by the time I finally got to Fifth Avenue after 4 or 5, yes, Inna was there, but I was now so benumbed by drink I felt nothing for her or anyone. There’s no point me going to a room with a girl unless I have already got an erection in the bar, so much do I fancy her—it was like this with Lucy, and Andrea, and Julia. I literally could not keep my cock in my trousers with any of them, so could not resist going to the room any longer. Sometimes I see Inna there and I feel like that for her, she turns me on so much. Yesterday she looked as beautiful as ever but I just felt no desire for her, or anyone, no desire for anything sexual at all. So I left and now being so drunk that meant I was hungry again (despite me having a Brussels Grill steak about 3 hours earlier!) and went into the Dominos for a pizza to take back to the hotel! Then of course I went to sleep and woke straightaway with appalling indigestion that took several Gaviscons, and several hours, to go away. Everything about the day was just wrong—because I tried to plan it perfectly, to fix it, so I would get to Fifth Avenue when Inna was there. I should have just done something with someone else. When the time is right, one day I will be in Fifth Avenue and Inna will be there and I will be in the mood, then we can do something.
Nowadays I tell myself if you go to the naughty places, WSK, Fortuna or wherever, I will reward you and let you have a lovely Westend steak or lovely Westbahnhof pizza (or both). It is food that is what I really yearn for these days. I rush to get the naughty places out of the way, so I can get to the food afterwards.
Opposite the hotel, I see a Café Central. Oh Jesus, it’s just occurred to me, they are going to go on a trawl of all the strip clubs and girlie bars of Schillerstraße aren’t they? Actually, that is quite good, as it means I will not be the only man when I walk in as I usually am, and they can take all the girls’ attention away from me. I should actually FOLLOW them from club to club! They can be my cover! They are all ordering pizza on the ipad on the bar; this place is going to reek of mouthwatering pizza any minute now; yet another reason to move on, even with just one beer inside me. How atmospheric the old Ibis bars used to be. There was no need to change. It wasn’t broken, they should not have fixed it. It is broken now.