Our Man in Europe. now living in BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "Mariachi Opus 2."

 Our Man in Europe, now living in Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Mariachi Opus 2."

(dedicato: to Alan Siilhetoe, English writer, 1960s who penned "The loneliness of the long-distance Runner" with whom, being a young Poet, 1970s, Alan corresponded with me. We shared collective tales of early childhood poverty.)

"Mariachi Opus 2."

...SOME MEN WEAR A HAT for warmth, some for Fashion, some for SHADE. It's an oddball World...Some R Scientists, some, outdoors, in the heat or cold, some to attract a Lover's NEON? Whilst SOME to shadow their evil play, yet a hat with a guitar, all descriptions listed above, the MARIACHI...trumps the game.

...The Mariachi: Sometime be-spangled a 'la Toreador! Sometimes in RAGS knocking at a girlfriend's late-night door? But never without Hat/Guitar, or at a Cafe, GUITAR-STRUM, a Poem-recital, at the drop of a sombrero, a Cantata to dance to, a tale to catch the eye of a Beauties flirting eye? An anthem to swarm the minds of a drunken crowd? Flamenco, the Blues. Storied lovers, the outcome is the same?

Some BOYS become old men before their time. Wannabe-Minstrels! And before your eyes? A genetic disintegration, a portrait of Dorian Grey, no SAP in their "diabolic", "weekend" rockstars or 6-String complainers; just where do these latter-day medieval "mummers"/MINSTRELS go to die? In a Butcher's Shop enterprise? "Pork or Beef Sausages Madam?" "We just got fresh Ham?" A soliloquy to prick the conscience of a Cougar or an old Queen?

ALL HAIL-AVE!!! The Mariachi. Some Gringo, Spanish, Mexican who never wavered, who stayed on course thru thick & thin yet scorned by guitar-wannabees-amateurs who could not Rock N' Roll? "The loneliness of the long-distance runner", victory in sight: The marathon finishing post, the regular LADS a 'trailing, the Mariachi, FAME-anon, in his minstrel-sad world, a race to WHA!? -who decided not to shine nor elect to win.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now in Belize, Dave Delacroix: "RUSALKA; The Lady in the Lake."

 Our Man in Europe, now in Belize, working on my "foot-dangling" trying to be a Beach Bum, DAVE DELACROIX: "Rusalka, The Lady in the Lake" (après aria by composer Dvorak)

"Rusalka. The Lady in the Lake."

...I wasn't up to much. Damned ragged! Big night with a bottle of "Jack" & a gal called Lois? And then a botched Bank Robbery. I was IN on it, planned over a Poker game in Sherman Oaks but I'd failed to show up on time. The Crew? By the time I got there they were all arrested -"sans" clown masks. I'd advised that squirt water pistols weren't gonna do the job less they were instantly dehydrated - no one listens to me - the bank tellers of course pissed their pants, the squirrel of a bank manager - who'd enrolled in TAP-DANCING lessons had managed, even with: "Get down on the floor U Mudder! Unlock da Safe!!!" managed his toe-pinky sandal to press the banks secret alarm. And then he said, "I ain't the Manager. He don't come in till noon." The BOYS, exasperated, indicated they were in a hurry, the girl bank tellers by this time were afraid to giggle, the BOYS waggled their Water Pistols, but everyone then got reverent, so S-WHEN the COPS, with REAL GUNS showed up.

I wasn't up to much. S-why I'm ON THE RUN. I was an innocent bystander - a bit late - but I could tell by the "failed bank robber FELONS stares" - I was hanging cross the street, my timing- tardiness, they'd plea-bargain -Criminal Mastermind - get me in deep. I'd also cleaned them out the night before. There's NO SUCH THING as a "friendly game of POKER." Losers always hate your guts. Never-ever again will they buy U beer. (Lots to think about there?)

So, there I was. A Christopher Cross song. "I'm on the Run! Ride the Wind!" -up nigh in the California desert, Sierra-no place, the old I-15, now desolate due to the modern I-15 Interstate highway up by yonder. But here, a lost highway, AMERICANA-PROGRESSO, miles & miles of broken Gas stations, derelict Motels, blank-gaudy road signs, abandoned-rusted Pontiac convertibles, a few up-turned skeletal slot machines that once promised gold, a Jack Kerouac's "On the Road" highway memory, sand-grit embalming. Creepy!

I wasn't up to much. Cops SURE - my bleating bank robber crew spewing their guts - Cops would be on my trail. I'm in THE DESERT here don't U know? But one thing 'bout the desert, the MOJAVE...when it RAINS, it POURS & this desert turns into a botanical garden. It happens once or twice in every decade. Lakes, outta nowhere FORM!

So, there I was. Sitting by this LAKE. Cops on my trail. Whistling DIXIE wasn't an option. The Bank Crew would sell me down the "lazy River", probably get me a 15-year stretch/never see LOIS till she/I was old & grey SO a suicide option, a suicide NOTE. Goddam it. I only had a Pencil, not even a Pen; jeeze, by this lake U don't know the meaning of heartbreak? And there I was, simpering, a-ruing when RUSALKA appeared out of this Lake! Bikini. A laurel round her head.

Yet BUSTED! BEAT! She still waded over. She lent me $20. Which I promised to pay her back. We collectively tweedled desert sand between our toes. Night fell. Slumber. I guess she disappeared, maybe back into that transient lake...A heart gone. Her name was Rusalka. European? I never saw her again.

c.2026. dave delacroix

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Masturbation-Classical Symphonies." Part 1.

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Masturbating Classical Symphonies" Part 1.

...I'VE ALWAYS HAD MY DOUBTS about Tchaikovsky, Russki composers as a whole. It's un-likely - whilst masturbating/lonesome listeners as we R - ever could be comfortable, maybe in a Turkish Bath, or psychologically become commensurate within ICE COLD SOVIET comfort? Lenin or Stalin. Legs a-tremble, pretending they had Alzheimer's? (It's cold out there?) And why worry about EUROPE? They got 5 times the size of the U.S.A to their EAST! (Kansas with no Banjo!)

The TSARS, fluent in several languages except their own -otherwise they would never have been deposed, IVAN the "Terrible", spilling cocktails on your Persian rug, openly fornicating with his concubines, willing or UN-willing on the same rug, that's why he was known as "I-DUDE.com-the Terrible": and not that good (?) in the sack... & in a fit of rage, killed his own SON. The Balalaikas ring on out...An up-side-down Macbeth?...

 ...or a Tchaikovsky tune? "Mein Gott!" They ALL trace back to the RUSS, bloody Vikings, river-longboat pirates. Thank God TCHAIK-Shostakovich, etc., never got plundered by Romans/Greeks despite the cultural ALAMO of KIEV, Greek Orthodoxy; the Russkies generally looked West because they didn't fancy KANSAS in the economy size?

WHO SWOONS at Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6.? Or frantically masturbate/tap loudly their feet on the upper circle of London's Royal Albert Hall? Can anyone CONCEIVE the EXPANSE, the DESOLATION, the Trans-Siberian railroad, the bodies buried alongside, GOGOL's "Dead Souls"? DOSTEYVESKY, a weekend pass to Baden-Baden? Lost his shirt on the casino "banco", but so do we all?

I always had my doubts about Russian Composers. They always cloud their photo "Selfies" in beards. And all those 1800 fucks!  Bloody Writers: TOLSTOY always dressed down. CHEKHOV, another "mystery man". Bloody Tchaikovsky? Symphonies up the WAZEE. Masturbate or NOT: It's what it means. And when U strip down the orchestration, Debussy, Chopin, wet underpants in stench garrets on French boulevards? A Siberian wilderness or maybe U get the same groove in a room?

....The Masturbation Symphonies. PART 2. -to be continued...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "BEATLES SONG!" (A long Summers Snow.)

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "UNCENSORED BEATLES SONG!"

"A long Summers Snow."

...IS IT WEDNESDAY or THURSDAY, does anyone care when U stare into your dirty dish-laden kitchen sink, ya screaming Kids back there? And nobody hears your sigh, the Cats whining, the dog in the yard on a chain; and the Radio-weather R talking about "Happy Days" when it's always raining?

(She's leaving home bye-bye.)

Is it Wednesday or Thursday, she gotta get outta this "home", BRANDED as a Jezabel, absconded, only one suitcase, the age of 33? Out there on the road she picks up a Man -who thinks she's SPAM, could it get better or could it be worse? In a B& B in Sheffield or Manchester her flight cements her grief.

(She's leaving home bye-bye.)

It was Wednesday or Thursday, where does she run to? Those past cold slaps on her face, and no future a-new, but as a GIRL she wrote Poetry. Where did that spirit go?... A Wednesday, a Thursday in her long summers snow. A Wednesday, a Thursday in her long summers snow.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Bride wore French Fries!"

 Our Man in Europe, now in BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "The Bride wore French Fries!" 

(..."après" Truffaut's movie tribute to Alfred HITCHCOCK (fat-dour guy), Truffaut's "The Bride wore Black.", and actor Richard Widmark throwing Wheelchair woman down flight of stairs (Movie, "Kiss me deadly!") or actor Lee Marvin throwing hot Coffee into Gloria Graham's face, (The Big Heat!), a literary exploration of Cinematic-Urban & domestic horror...)

"The bride wore French Fries!"

...S-ALWAYS BEEN BETTER TO TELL DA TRUTH: In a Court of Law? Why not? But by lying - some shark Prosecutor twists your testimony, U get busted! And IN the Court of Public Opinion U can get thrown to the Wolves! (HOWL!!!) Best U crumble, plea-bargain, sing like a Canary! Domestic MURDERS rarely involve "The Boys!" otherwise known as the "Cannoli Twins.".At THAT time they were both (acting) getting MURDERED by CIRCE (Greek Goddess) in Dave Delacroix's scripted Short Movie: "FIVE EASY PEASY!" in Corozal-Belize! (It's on UTUBE!)

Infidelity? Sodomy? Those serials Kill Gigs I didn't "fess" to? WHERE R the victims buried? Or R they playing Tennis down in Saratoga, F.L.A, unknowing, or on Pedophile-EPSTEIN's Caribbean Island? Buried in sand? Vagina-locomotives, never mind the Killers and just WHO R the Victims who escaped? Where R they now? Photos on Milk Cartons? Strangers within an F.B.I. un-cared-for empty file?

Alas. Our minds wander. A murder every day. Some Sex-WAH!, more money, some over Played. Or some KILL over your neighbor's grass verge, his dog pissing in your swimming pool or beating some Kid over your own Kids baseball game, some HOMICIDE on the SLIDE it might come to U? I don't think JESUS got around to these details, shores of Galilee. Missing Dead Sea Scroll?

Yet SOCIETY'S Banshees, WOLVES (in Latin:) "Jammus-Packus!" -folks without a Life, scared shitless less YOUR culpability extends to their furtive SHADOWS? -Probably closet Nazis, ready to denounce your lack of hygiene. dirty fingernails (they thrive on details!), We R some deviant Communists and with whom did we sleep last night? ISLAMIST or Bride Burning? Medievalism now equipped with a Micro-wave. a kitchen Blenda, or God helps us, an Atom Bomb?

"So help me GOD! I was at Uncle Ernie's Fish & Chip shop ALL NIGHT and HE will swear on a stack of "stoled" Welsh Valley Chapel bibles, we were working on tomorrow's "mushy Peas? He DID pop out for an hour or so..." The Village "Harridans", their gossip, the evil Spinster of "Clochemerle"? An Assassin for an Assassin, the one on J.F.K's , the "Grassy knoll?" Wicked sunglasses! Not a guillotine insight. 3 rifle shots? A splattered head in a Chevrolet limousine.

The recent TABLOID "Spatchuler Murders". It wasn't ME. My cheating Fiancé, future bride who stuck her OWN HEAD in the "Chip-Frypan"; the 2nd Cookie Gal - a babe I had on the side - testifying from the back kitchen (she heard) my Fiancé sing: "Farewell cruel world! /Beware of non-smokers!!!" Made sense to me?

Maybe it was my Uncle Ernie, her cheating on HIM, jealous of her marrying ME, my future bride and after, Uncle Ernie had refused to split the Franchise on HIS string of Fish & Chip Shops on the basis of her giving up her "maidenhead"? And God knows where "I" figured? Empires have fallen for less.

...U never KNOW with FAMILY. Or maybe some FEUD a'la the Hatfields & the McCoys. British, Irish, Welsh, Protestant, Catholics, ISLAM cults, so help me GOD, I have no idea? And the bride wore French Fries. Not a pretty sight. The Detectives hauled me down to the Morgue. "IDENTIFY! Is this your Gal?"... Under my breath: "I wish the coroner had applied more Mayo?"

Politicians, Philosophers, Religions whittle down the Truth till - for mere mortals - it becomes a LIE. U get OLD when U no longer go to weddings/funerals, no inner-wheels: a 66 Dodge-Comet 50 convertible under your accelerator feet? Youth with its fleeting wings. Like ICARUS, wax-wings & all, too close to the Sun, it don't matter if U die or if U need to kill?...

...yet a "tell-tale HEART" -Edgar Allen POE, RADAR-EYES, a scope within an echo chamber, a reflected SONAR "BIP-BIP-BIP!"  What guilt THROBS under your sitting "chez-lounge" to prick the conscience of a King, your Fiancé, or be a jealous boyfriend, in-esse, a Lover from afar. The one U least expect to waggle-taggle under innocent eyes?

...When the Detectives arrested me for Romantic/PRE-marital "folly" they perplexed me with: "Does anyone know what Time is?" I responded like OTHELLO: "Vengeance is mine! Let me check my SWISS-KNIFE, er WATCH!"

(Detective:) "The bride wore French Whoosits! None of her fingerprints were on the Mayo/Ketchup bottles "après" her murder? Just yours."... I'd forgotten to cover my tracks. Silly me.

Edith Piaf, at that moment was on the transistor radio singing: "No regrets!" 

(Fish & Chips?) The One u least expect, that black hole amongst the Stars.. I later confessed: " I just didn't want her just FRIED like that... LOVE is a killer!!!...I wanted her still to be beautiful"

(In the MOVIE of course a throaty Saxophone solo ensues, entitled, "My Sphincter don't do Sphincter anymore".)

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A half-hearted BRIEF History of SLOTH!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A half-hearted BRIEF HISTORY of SLOTH!"

..."A TALE TOLD BY AN IDIOT". Once upon a time... it started slowly then fizzled out altogether. SLOTH. A Cardinal Sin, how'd Cardinals get such a bad rap? The Borgias? Where do U begin? It's hard to START without one. A Start? Sloth or Sin. One or the other. Maybe a double Whammy burger? Vegans still not exempt. Nondrinkers. Non-Smokers. Hitler! Watch out for them both.

"Where R the songs of Spring? Aye! Where R they?" -probably HUNGOVER, slacking off till post noon, in BED?? Smoking a Doobie: "And death shall have no dominion"?... Jerusalem? How the  WEST was won? Was it EVER? David Crocket running round with a RACOON HAT, a vivisection, IT STARING AT U? Devilled-egg glass eye! ...Doc Holiday/Jesse James/Billy the Kid ...in a PISTOLE-GUNFIGHT... would have had to note a tad psychological disadvantage? (Extenuating SLOTH circumstances?)

...It's always TOUGH to get motivated when U. R. NOT given to Motivation. The Student Post-Grad with a University degree - in Existentialism - alas, employment/resigned to a Council-City Job (in Parks & civic Gardening) feels NO URGE other than, vague literary attempts at Biography (Auto-the Early Years), and as FOR an Auto purchase, car payments impossible? Tavern beers. A game of Darts. "Who in the Order of Angels, if I cried out would hear me?"

Even HI-TECH PIMPS at PORNHUB.COM, now swamped by Soft-Porn outlets on Facebook (.Com) are losing all enthusiasm for Internet/Video masturbation? -as a Zillion Dicks droop? -Sloth ensues! A'la HUMPTY-DUMPTY, off the Wagon. The Duke of York, Adolf Hitler! -Couldn't put back all those Rock & Roll "HEP-CATS" back together again/ Stuck Em in a Gas Chamber!!!

"How sweet thou't R" -Bitch Life!  HAMLET'S DILEMMA: Not needing to play the national lottery, not short of Ducats, with Royal position, a swinging wardrobe, a ROOF! -2 or 3 beyond Elsinore?

"The Play's the thing to prick the conscience of a King"?  "What hand or EYE", a "fearful symmetry". "OUT DAMED SPOT!!!" What HELL! U-betcha!!! Nothing much going on. A Lifestyle, SLOTH, the act of a fool caressing Yorick's skull in a cemetery? As for "the IDES of March", not much doing for Guy Fawkes on the - remember-remember - the 5th of November.

"Stranger who pass on by": Go now. "Goe & catch a falling star!" Or "I wandered lonely as a cloud"?

"MAH!? Can U lend me $20. I'm all outta beer!"

(MAH:) "Get out of bed & get a JOB!"

"MAH? Gimme a break. I'm in a meeting!"...

(MAH:) "Go tell the SPARTANS!!!"

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "VERTIGO!"

 Our Man in Europe, Dave Delacroix, Smoked Salmon/Potato Chips: "VERTIGO!"

I GET VERTIGO. I get vertigo. When I see U. A cliche: I FALL. But I never hit the ground. Some spot U. R. saving for some other...blank space...clown.

I get VERTIGO, dizzy, reflected in your black mirror. Non-suggestive, nobodies' icon, nobodies' song, nobodies star, a fleeting glimpse of light, some galaxy afar.

I get Vertigo. I get Vertigo. Your path is short. Whilst mine? A downward cylindrical swirl, a falling, but where I land on my feet.

(Meanwhile? Dancing to music is STILL an option!)

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.