Laurence visits and plays me his Minidisc recordings of choirboys. He lends me a couple of videos: a bootleg of The Smiths live in 1985 and Quentin Crisp’s first television interview, in 1970, which I promptly dub onto audio cassette for permanence in my home. Both offer me great hope.
Quentin talks of death: “It can’t be long now.” Nearly thirty years later, he’s still waiting. Still in one bedsit, depending on the kindness of strangers. The only difference is the bedsit is in Manhattan, not Chelsea. And he’s become famous. After the 1970 interview, he was asked to write his autobiography, The Naked Civil Servant, which was made into a film, and the world finally recognised him for the star and velvet guru that he was. Is. I still hope to meet him one day, when my fare is paid to New York. I go wherever my fare is paid. Now more than ever!

Sex is the P.E. of adult life. And I’ve got a note from my mother.

Sex is a poor substitute for masturbation. (Internet users will doubtless agree.)

Contrary to popular belief, sex is not the adult compensation for having to pay rent.

Sex is only worth doing for any reason other than self-gratification.
In order to shut someone up.
In order to earn money.
In order to do research.
In order to pass the time.

Also: In order to talk about it to the world afterwards.
The time was when it was something you simply never spoke about. Now it’s everywhere, and people just do it so they have something to talk about to their friends, or to the poor wretch they have found themselves in a Relationship with. It makes sense.

Sex is worth reading about, hearing about, talking about, joking about. I was going to add for watching in films, but I then realised that all my favourite films’ least favourite moments are the sex scenes, if there are any. But sex is never worth doing for its own sake. Once you realise this, life is so much easier.

Celibacy and solitude (as opposed to loneliness) are raison d’etres for anyone interested in getting through this tiresomely unpredicatable stagger to the grave with as little fuss as possible.

Rejoice! For it will end!