Take 33: The Mirror
(for Lord Henry)
Oh! I reconnect with old pal Lello, Maestro Luthier and Musicman from my "Roman Holiday" days...who once saved me from dying of pnuemonia in a long ago, Swiss winter, whilst hitch-hiking.
He's, I guess, an old Rocker, Left-winger. Travels a lot. But a "Blue-Blood". Old money. His family owns some decadent Castle, mezzo-Italia, on the Le Marche-Adriatic coastline. Quite splendid, I'm led to believe...
He showed up jammin' in Piacenza's piazza Cavalli. I recognised his music from across the crowded piazza at once!
"Salve!"
"Salve!"
Adjourning to my abode, the HOTEL DAVE (€35 per nite/via Campagna), coffee, beers, vino and half a year's tobacco product - from the State of West Virginia - ensued.
Thus carousing, we mutually imbibed, paced my humble rooms, played "pocket billiards" and pontificated...as middle-aged men are apt to do when co-enjoining philosophical insights under the cloak of reminiscence; a poor method, I confess, for old friends to address Life's dissatisfaction.
Lello, as I, had (has) clearly aged...though I notice it only when I happened to glance at our reflections in my Hotel's large Art Deco wall mirror.
Mirrors are useful for that. They reflect a portrait which the Mind's true sense of one's physical being is largely blind...and how, in fact, the World sees you.
Anyhow, after some hours of "banter" which sufficed to exhaust our recent histories, wrap them in festive paper and tie them up with string, Lello asked me how life was treating me...now that I have relocated to italy?
I suggest he read THIS my blog-book for a complete update, adding that outside of the present Winter season, I was having a blast, money worries, of course; as always. Drinking WAY too much. Some minor health issues; no Dental plan.
"And?" he asked, during a pause.
"Well. My Italian is obissimal, as you know." I replied. "I'm really stretching my new friends conversational English language skills to the limit. Two of their number, now out-right, refuse to speak to me in anything OTHER than Italian...presumably, in the vain hope that I quickly become conversant not ONLY in Italian, but also in the local "Piacentino" dialect!?"
"The FOOLS!"
"Exactly!" I reply. "I tell them that such an accomplshment takes at least a year, and I? I have only been here 4 months...!"
Lello chuckles. He knows my flaws. Whilst HE has "the knack" and speaks several launguages fluently, I am the "laziest guy in town"; leastways, in the Language department.
(ask anyone)
Even in my School Daze, studying French, I volunteered to operate the class Tape Recorder which played repetitive sentences:
"Le chat et sur la mur",
"Monsieur Lefarge avez un grande tete", etc.,
so as to evade the tutor's scrutiny...and for which I was rewarded with glowing end-of-term report cards:
"David is very attentive and operates the tape recorder: C- Plus!"
My mother, I recall, was quite astonished, and of course, "I" was doubly pleased... as my poor "Mater" didn't speak a word of the lingo!
"But?..." asks Lello.
I explain: "Well, with this Winter season (the coldest in 200 years) I confess to sometimes feeling quite isolated and, whilst this is capital for Creativity, it CAN get a tad lonesome with no-one to Yak-Yak-Yak! And I DO miss my Denver, USA friends and loved ones. The ones, that is, who - since my departure - have NOT dropped dead or who arent feeling very well... Quite a few, actually."
"The BEST friends you can have; the Departed." says Lello.
"How's that?"
"They cast no future shadow." he says.
"Ha!" (perhaps)
"As for the Living?" he continues, "The ones who talk all the time are a joy because you can stay quite silent and give your brain a rest.... And the ones who - from either reticence or because they DONT speak English - say absolutely nothing at all; with regard to the latter? They are equally accommodating."
"How so?"
(Lello) "You sit. Swig beers. THEY sit. Swig beers. Nothing is said. You play some CD's. Nirvana. Bloody Pearl Jam. Whatever. And you have a good time."
"So true."
Lello continues, sucking on a fresh brewski: "...Rather like being 2 explorers, in centuries past, on a voyage of discovery. You're way out at sea. You're NOT sure just where you are... or where you're going. You're stuck on the boat. There's no-where to go...unless you jump-ship and become "chum" for the sharks. Ergo? After 3 months at sea, you've run out of Cocktail Party "small-talk". There's absolutely nothing left to say. So you just sit around, polish off some brewski's, and whittle little wooden carvings, possibly, to trade with the natives who you may or may NOT encounter on some distant island; assuming, of course, they're friendly and DONT throw you in the tribal "crock-pot" along with some cocconuts and spices: It's a Cruise!"
"Exactly."
Lello, at last, shakes his head and smiles: "Y'know, Dave? It takes YEARS to learn this stuff!?..."
"Capitoh!" says I, slugging a fresh brew.
"Dave?..." says Lello, finally, getting ready to take his leave, "We must do this more often. It' important."
"What's that?"
"Reflect."
c 2012/davedelacroix/lord Borgo/piacenza/feb/I'm sooo late for Bongo Nite!...:)
