20th May

In the garden, her wrist on show, the pale white scar bearing witness to a past indiscretion: a failure this, to accompany so many others. The rose blooms bled behind us in soft red bursts. A reflection of another time and her own undoing, perhaps. It’s summer and all the pretty girls wear dresses that show off their freckled shoulders. They come and go beside the living wound of the roses. And in her eyes a reflection of gentle dark night. Later she spreads herself out like a pale landscape across my bed, and my fingers trace her smooth contours with pleasure. But now I am become shadow. A footstep or two, half-heard. I am not here. And none of it really matters. Not anymore…


Drunk on wine and poetry and the taste of your skin – especially the ripe folds of skin between those softly curving thighs. Ah, to drink you down in one long draught. To be drunk. To be drunk by sipping without stopping, like some blasé god, Bacchus perhaps? To be drunk on wine and on you. To drink down the fine frothy waves of you. To drift on your tides like a water-logged piece of flotsam. To be drunk forever…

A fate devoutly to be desired.


And to the cinema to see Alien Covenant, a film that has filled me with hope for the future of mankind. The day wet. The sky low enough to swallow the earth in big misty mouthfuls. A and L told me the film was “slow”, “not much happening”. Comments that puzzle me in hindsight? I didn’t think it that bad for a film of its ‘type’: “Look, there’s an alien; kill the alien; the alien’s dead…perhaps?”

Afterwards had a reassuringly third-rate meal at R Fast Food, followed by the most tasteless coffee I’ve ever encountered anywhere in the world. Had a brandy with it, which was okay. God bless Courvoisier! It saves even a wilted salad!


Thursday given over to Crowley’s ritual technique of eroto-comatose lucidity: repeated sexual stimulation to the point of orgasm – until the body drifts, leaf-like between sleep and wakefulness…in a state of near exhaustion, because of this continuous excitation; erotic massage, fingering, physical stimulation of genitals and erogenous areas – continuing for a period of five hours or longer on this occasion.

Both heaven and hell…

Trance-like state achieved. Saw this wild, grey sea unlike any other sea I’d ever encountered. Heavy drops of rain falling in torrents out of a vermillion sky, and mask-like faces in the air around. Foaming waves…

Vision disrupted finally by ejaculation…but magic made, anyway. All desire centered on one good outcome. Hopefully successfully.


Dreams from Thursday night: vivid, confused and disturbing. A beautiful woman, tall, wearing a flounced bell-shaped skirt and no upper garment. Full breasted; heavily rouged nipples. At her waist a belt of jeweled snakes. Around her other women, Neolithic women in tatter skins. All glimpsed by the dancing light of candles set in crystal.

And they dance, these women. A dance of leeches. Spinning in sinister ballerina poses. The dance becoming more frenetic, frenzied and furious. Their bodies come together like a wreckages of flesh…

Wind dancers, these, I realise. Animal shapes crossing the ridges of their backbones. Before they dissolve in to so many particles, shifting in the wind, to reassemble as the sea folds around their bare feet and ankles.

And this wind creeps in through the cracks in the world…


Friday off to close friends for long boozy lunch (Peedeel drank only water!), Chinese food in multiple courses, and good conversation. Plenty of laughter. I felt strangely dissociated, though. There, yet elsewhere. The after effects of such an intense ECL session yesterday, perhaps? Certainly, very sore downtown.

impoverishing rhetoric…

October 12, 2016


Diary 11th / 12th October

Here I sit surrounded by a world full of poverty and ‘consumer egoism’, the all-powerful media, ineffectual or misused state power, increasing ethnic hatred, and an almost total lack of vision on the part of politicians and their advisors everywhere. I think I’d be forgiven for calling this uninspiring epoch exhausting and somewhat joyless.

Ours is a time of mindless squandering of resources, impoverishing rhetoric and ideological corruption – especially in the USA, where upper and middle class youth take on the clothes, music and language of the urban poor. And a plump demigod, with the wealth of a junior Croesus, is vying bitterly for the Imperial thrown in Washington DC, a man who would be Emperor/President, and who will probably live in memory as the greatest wall builder since the Emperor Hadrian.


And if that wasn’t enough, the local Chinese takeaway have upped all their feckin’ prices!

‘Why,’ I asked. ‘Why when inflation is so damn low, do you wallop ten percent on your prices?’

‘Ah,’ came the inscrutable response, ‘Britexit! Everything go up! Big expert say so on teevee!’


D’you think Donald Trump should be the first man on the Sun?


You are supposed to eat pussy until she tries pushing your face away because she’s cum too many times…And that’s when you’re s’posed to hold her hands away and continue eating until you see her soul leave her body – or until the neighbours complain about those loud orgasmic screams.

After that you can buy her a takeaway…Maybe pizza or an Indian because the Chinese has gone up in price? You’ve got to budget carefully…


Watched the second Trump and Clinton debate (Yeah, I should get a life, I really should) on TV. Not really a debate. Very little about policy. When Trump talked about scrapping Obama care, he got lost on what he’d replace it with…Basically nothing. It’d be a case of market forces rule. Okay.

Trump could be renamed Mr. Pecksniff (after the Dickens’ character). It’s what he does all the time: peck and sniff. He gave me the impression of a writhing, scheming man almost at the end of his tether. He appologised for his ill-considered remarks about his multiple sexual assaults on women. It was ‘locker room’ banter, he said. He was lying then, but he’s telling the truth now. Yeah, right. He’s a great respecter of women, he claimed. Then spent the rest of the evening denigrating Clinton, a woman.


Wouldn’t want him to get lonely on that trip to the Sun. Kim Jong-un (affectionately known as ‘Little Fat Fuck’ by the people around him) could keep Donald company on his star trip. Between them they could share the honour of being the first men on the Sun!