One problem with my place in Frankfurt is that if I'm here with just one girl, there's a 50-50 shot she's somewhere out of hearing range. I was originally going to start writing this definitive article on Frankfurt while taking a shit, but I was done shitting before I was done yelling, so that didn't pan out... get it ? Pan out ?
Another problem with my place in Frankfurt is that all the fucking lights are this soft sideways lampy bullshit, like all anyone ever does in a 300/night double bedroom double bathroom apartment with one of those Japanese toilets with multifunctional vibrating self-warming and complicatedly watersquirting seats is fuck. Not even proper fuck, "bitch, get over here! put your foot up there!" sorta fuck like adult men do, but the piddly slimy cold rubbing of snail parts specific to adolescence, "oh, I didn't want to assume" and assorted nonsense. What the fuck is sex even if not assuming the position, for fuck's sake ?! Assnort already, let's all sit around delicately soft under-lit spaces and motion into one another under cover of dubious duplicitous plausible deniability, maybe he didn't stick it into you, maybe he just fell that way. Hurr.
Where the fuck is the 500W overhead miniSun like normal people use to work under, god damn it all to hell.
But anyway, things that aren't the problem with my place in Frankfurt are the maids, they even vacuumed, and generally cleaned the place in exactly the alloted time slot. Oh, and also, the view.
Furthermore what isn't a problem with my place in Frankfurt is the parking. There's an insanely tiny and inconvenient parking garage -- which bothers me none, because I've a bimbo in tow to struggle with all that for me, I just leave up front and see her again half hour later or some shit. Also, the access to the garage comes through a three or four lefts spiral, which is blocked half the time. For instance today it was blocked by four or five three ton trucks loading musicians' trunks, dozens upon dozens of them, and on the paper affixed seal on one of them the letters "Bruce Di..." could be made out in some typically UStard handscribble/blockprint, followed by most likely a c. So do you suppose the dude's actually staying at my hotel on his way to his European tour to start soon ? Cuz that... also wouldn't be a problem.i
Getting ready to hit the town.
The only problem is... well... there's really not that much town to hit.
You see, "back in the day", twenty or so years hence, Frankfurt was my muchly beloved nexus of travel abroad. I flew (or, before that was a thing, I'd be driven) from Cluj to here and then from here to everywhere else ; I'd always leave myself a day interleave, I'd arrive Tuesday morning and take off Wednesday night, to land straight into the eager, welcoming sheets of some owned but not then known as such, enslaved but then not so called nor thus distinguished, knockaround girl.
"Le città come i sogni sono costruite di desideri e di paure."
Back in the day ; but that'd be tomorrow, tomorrow night. Today there'd always be time to take in Frankfurt, to have a schnitzel, a torte, a walk and a look, a touch and a feel, a...
When I left that world behind, I flew away through Frankfurt, I said goodbye to it in Frankfurt...
"Vivendo ci s'accorge che le differenze si perdono:
ogni città va somigliando a tutte le città, i luoghi si scambiano forma,
ordine e distanze, un pulviscolo informe invade i continenti."
There's a name for that dust, there's a clear, symptomatic imanence of the cancer consuming all things.
The prettiest girl my hounds scared up in all of Germany turned out to be this teenaged, underaged, heavily breasted, beautifully shaped preadolescent Ethiopian girl ; too shy to want or not want, or even to express herself altogether, immediately swarmed by a swooping murder of compatriot crows, her "friends" in the sense all the spiders come off the same eggsac, all the brine shrimp squirted off the same lump are friends. Equally shy, equally inexpressive, but specifically uninteresting clay.
The second prettiest girl was this tall, utterly German dollie visiting from Stuttgart, swaddled by a bunch of mindbendingly ugly gorgons, "her friends", mugs scraped off well used horseriding boots, acneic, lanky and overweight, cumbersome and inept...
A formless dust invading the continents indeed : the incontinent dripping of omnivorous cunts abandoned to their fate, the failure of differentiation, the impossibility of identity, of choice, of meaning and, ultimately, of existence. The purely African glories of the "brotherhood" of girlihood, implicitly superficial, neoplastically ageless, HeLa matter for the saturation, oversaturation and eventual obliteration of all things.
"È inutile stabilire se Francoforte sul Meno sia da classificare tra le città felici
o tra quelle infelici. Non è in queste due specie che ha senso dividere le città,
ma in altre due: quelle che continuano attraverso gli anni e le mutazioni
a dare la loro forma ai desideri e quelle in cui i desideri
o riescono a cancellare la città o ne sono cancellati."
The city was cancelled ; but not by desire. The city was cancelled by the herbivore's fundamental incapacity to desire.
Yes, above ye olde Alte Oper, yet this'd then be the emblematic illustration of the Frankfurt left behind, the ruin that behind Frankfurt remains, representationally definitive and descriptively absolute. Observe the clear Argentine influences : 1. the undisturbed pichi encampment to the left, something in itself sufficient to degrade any would-be urban aglomeration to suburban statusii ; 2. the vehicle captive inside a building and finally, for the trifecta of perfection, power grid shenanigans.
You'd think this were a joke, if narrated ; but suddenly it turns rather sourly sad once illustrated. I know, I know, you thought Frankfurt is a city. It was ; I was there and saw it. It fucking well isn't, now. Not anymore.
Wedding dress shop, with Arabyia corner. Virtually nobody here is even remotely German, by the way. Pretty much every single Romanian girl whose ass is even vaguely worth anything in trade is over in Frankfurt, plus all the North and West Africans, middle and far Easterners and etcetera. Frankfurt is a sorta Nairobi Nord / Pinoy West these days, and it really doesn't work out at all. I'm aware the pantsuitards keep dancing like little monkeys around a barrel organ, to the tune of its plaintive whine about "diversity" an' supposed benefits therein incumbent -- but if diversity actually worked as such RNGs would be master painters, and sandy beaches would be pharmacies. Self-evidently diversity doesn't fucking work, certainly not in the destructured, authority-less and hierarchy-bereft sense the tards in question propose it.
It could perhaps work just fine in my harem. Having a selection of girlies all about the same height and all about the same pectoral capacity under the same whip and in the same chains, diversity well tempred by uniform structure, that may well work. But diversity in and of itself, abandoned, unabashed... that just spells out filthy misery caked over itself with rats for raisins. It's a fortune, by the way, that there's a freeze here every year ; because I've never seen this many rats since leaving Argentina, and if it didn't also freeze there'd be more cockroaches everywhere than pretty much anything else. Hurray for small blessings, I suppose.
This is the only cafe we found that actually had acceptable seating. The other aspect of Argentina the hordes of poor, entirely superfluous but deeply retarded immigrants, vagrants and assorted scum forced upon this once-wonderful town are the tiny places, two-table eateries of dubious extraction, camping chair affairs and, for that matter, uncounted multitudes of plebs buying alcohol from the discount store and then drinking it on the sidewalk. The whole "financial" district of this supposed urban center is nothing but wall to wall adolescents sharing drinks and sitting on stones they didn't build nor ever clean as if they fucking belonged there -- which, eminently, they do not. If I wanted the lice of the never-had-a-private-room scum I'd visit the fucking campuses of the once-upon-a-time "developed world", what the fuck nonsense is this.
Notice, incidentally, the transparently cheap and screamingly vulgar candelabra -- these are extremely common in (what the locals incomprehensibly imagine to be) "posh" places ; and more generally the atrocious taste and mindblowing cheapness of the whole affair. It's like the world of interior decoration of that dumb woman from Fargo already, how the fuck did these atrocities escape the flyover midwest even ?!
Anyway, we tried the strudel. It wasn't.
The only openly gay bar in all of Frankfurt. Pleasant and everything, we had a great time, but fucking tiny. You can not begin to believe how tiny this thing was, holy hell, it wouldn't have been sufficient venue for the gay lapdogs of Seattle, what gay humans of Frankfurt, lawds' mercy.
Incidentally, do you know the girl's name ? She's clearly a character, but which one ? If I want to find porn depicting her gangraped by muscular wolves for instance, what do I search for ?
Cheap eatery downtown. Overcooked the hell out of their pork hock, but otherwise no complaints.
Rape alley (up and down shot from the middle) leading to the only "swingers' club" we bothered or will ever bother with in this sad ex-city. It's somewhere just outside nominal city limits, towards the Kreutz, lost among trucking servicing businesses where a buncha strip joints and such would go in comparatively more urbanly developed and otherwise civilised Mittelamerica. No such things here, except... well, this 50 sqm or so on three levels thing, how should I describe it...
Gotta try, right ? First off, no parking to speak of, so left the driving slut at the wheel, car parked in one of two parking spots in front of one of two businesses up next to the main street where above depicted rape alley began and took the other one for an escort. The door opened automatically, we climbed an external stairwell to another door that opened automatically and let us into this 2m x2m space in which a dude proposed I pay him a hundred euro at first, but upon inquiring what exactly for discovered in amazement that the other person is also a female and so slashed the total to 40. The question as to what sorta math transforms two dudes one chick into a hundred but one dude two chicks into forty will be explored some other time (also known by the pet nym o' "never"), but forty euro I was willing to pay himiii so as to do the thing he evidently never saw done before, which is to say take two sluts to the supposed "swingers" club he has there ; and so it turned out that the dressing room was to the left.
Then down a steep long stair, into the main room, this 4x5 affair, maybe. There's a bar to the left, equipped as you'd expect a two-three family camping trip, there's a fridge stuffed with unrecognizable fluids in unmarked containers, and exactly three bottles on three different taps. This, I must say, turned out to be some of the most objectionable liquour I tasted since the SMart schnapps (yes, there's a reason all that clear fluid's still on the table -- we ordered one of each kinda schnaps and ended up drinking ~none ; we did instead dozen or two cherry vodka shots). So I'm sitting on the corner of a couch, one slut kneeling left and the other seated right, I try the horror samogon (and this trying takes a while, as I need some -- steadily increasing -- interval to summon up the courage to try the next one) and meanwhile look around. There's a solid steel stripper pole within a square meter of free space right in front ; there's a buncha disco lights packed in. There's a dj booth with a dj inside. There's a chair and some bdsm-like stuff stuffed in another closet-sized space further out. There's a door yielding in a courtyard, and that's all.
Three or four old, fat, entirely uninteresting women that will never as long as they live get fucked for free anymore than they'll get colostomies for free (the work involved in either operation being the same for the most part) pretend to not notice everything fucking changed and that obliges them, to worship. It dun matter how "sudden" or "unexpected" -- the event drives the obligation and there's no possible excuse. A dozen or so utterly reprehensible beta retards, mostly wearing nothing but hotpants, beerbellies jiggling above the undersized straps, spend a moment awestruck then swarm over, just as I'm leaving. There's an echo of "Hey, where are you from" spoken into the behind of the girl evidently following her evident owner, because hey, herpy derp, why not, Latin America am Main. You do realise there's a reason those dumb fucks over there are poor. Do you ?
Seriously, if this is a swinger's club the salvation army's a high couture Parisian firm. And yet... just about best in show ; this is how far they've fallen for opening their borders instead of gassing the Jews.
In the end, just about the most happening place in town, the hotel bar.
And my apartments in said hotel, of course.
Some very hurt feet. Touch the screen! Heal! HEAL!!
Alcohol application, in gel. Apparently it's even more painful this way. Yay!
I had my cock sucked while broken feets was rubbing liquid pain into her own wounds and squirmin', for the record.
This remind you of anything ?
These rather bothered a (Romanian) woman whose (Romanian) teenage daughter seemed rather interested in the proceedings. They couldn't very well leave, they couldn't very well talk about it, they just... well, what can you do ? Sit there and stare awkwardly, right ? Check! Just... just... can't look away!
Another revolutia lui Calafat ; the USG blue sure as fuck can't put asses in the seats no mo. There was also a "Falung Gong" psyop going a coupla squares over, and just about as successfully. What can you do...
Delightfully stone-hard, well shaped, well defined nipple. As I said to the little azn guy who asked permission to take his own picture, "it's pretty great, you should try it". Because it is, what.
Medina, self-evidently the better Muslim eatery in town. Pretty waif bussing tables, too, all tits and ass and wasp's waist under the modest hijab & drapery. I had a vague sense she was rather looking for a way out, too, but... well, what can you do, walk out with the staff ? If I ran a top shelf restaurant and you tried that I'd prolly come after you with a cleaver too, Muslim notions of propriety irrespective. It's fucking hard to get help, or at least it used to be. I can't imagine it's gotten any easier these days.
Some gentlemen in the audience being visibly bothered, some escorts in the audience proceeded to remove their haircaps and assorted competitive sluttery antics. I'd say if anything I'm altogether good news for the future of mankind.
They overcooked my steak. Think, if you will, this is what point bleu looks to these fucking anti-semitesiv, medium rare if there ever was such a thing. The idiot kid, too, he's like, "oh, so even raw-er than English" ? Yeah, I say, just show it the fire, that's all.
I knew it was fucked the moment it came over on a hot plate, fucking retarded idea, what the fuck, who even came up with the idea of bringing beef over to the table on hot plates ?
That'd be it. I'm sitting here Saturday night writing, you can imagine what raging party town this sad remnant must have become.———
- Meanwhile intel looked it up and apparently he's not played this town since the 90s. I suspect he knows something. [↩]
- If you've got these filthy traps on the streets, you don't have a city, nor is it a town, forget about "metropolis" or anything like that. It's a rural shithole, no possible sidestepping this simple fact available above or under Earth. [↩]
- I'm paying him. Because, obviously, I can afford the paying, and so from all according to their means, yes, I pay some dork to be the coolest thing he's ever had in his house, why the hell not. [↩]
- You don't just overcook a hamburger, Jerry! [↩]