Remember how sexually aroused I used to be when I first started staying in hotels? That 5 star Tulip in Brussels. Stripping off & looking at myself in the bedroom mirror. I was the same when I first moved into this flat. The fact that my graph is going UP again proves I can afford the flat. I can pay my rent, buy my food, go to the pub a couple of times a week, and still have enough money to pay off my credit cards. This is the last day of August! There is no point owing no money if you are not having any fun, are not having any pleasure, any excitement, any anticipation, not having any illicit thrills. I need the sex. It is the sex that fuels the books. It is the porn cinema & Demi and Pamela that fuels the books. And I do not drink so much, just 3 pints maybe, before Cotton and Demi and Pamela, so I am not too drunk to come, so I come feeling so sober. After Bell or Cotton Club I just come home so blindly drunk. I have had interesting times in past years, but this year all my money and time has just been sunk into the Scotsman, first looking for Sylvia & then because of —–. All that money could have enabled me to keep travelling & keep having interesting times. Instead I pissed it all away in King’s Cross. The way the Vienna trip seemed a horrible dud at the time but soon came to seem magical in retrospect, now these nights in Frankfurt are starting to seem magical. Moonbootica, Nur Ein Wort, Pure, the songs are so evocative, and remind me of those nervous nights heading out from the Intercity Poststraße to the Eros Houses and Katerina.