Part 35: Rock the Kasbah!
In my Creative life, whether in my writings (Roman Holiday: Veni, Vidi, I CRASHED! -the travel-biopic-novel) or in this present work: Dave Delacroix: Our Man in Europe...or in any of my CD music productions; Streets of Denver, The Deadbeat Scrolls, 21st Century, SIX PACK, Sirens, etc., ALL available - online - thru CD BABY.com...I can honestly state that I have never craved "commercial" attention, nor resorted to crass advertizing/commercialism, though often have I pondered the possibilities over succulent lunches at:
McDONALDS
WENDY´S
TACO BELL
& the infamous
CHIK-FIL-A/ QUIZNOS
Or whilst sipping on
STELLA ARTOIS
BITBURGER
EDELSTOFF
GUINESS
BASS
HARP, etc...
Whilst smoking
DRUM
TOP
GOLDEN VIRGINIA
SAMSON
VAN NELLE
JAKORDIA, tobacco...
Usually, whilst strumming a
GIBSON
MARTIN
FENDER
IBANEZ
GRETSCH
RICKENBACHER, guitar...
Whilst riding on
AMTRAK
BRITISH RAIL
DEUTSCH BAHN
GREYHOUND BUS
BRITISH AIRWAYS
US AIRWAYS
KLM/EL-AL/QUANTAS
AIR FRANCE
LUFTHANSA
And wearing
LEVIS
WRANGLERS
CHRISTIAN DIOR
DOC MARTINS/CONVERSE
GAP
FREDRICKS of HOLLYWOOD
VICTORIA´S SECRET
Or anything, from
BARNEYS
MACYS
WOOLWORTHS
MARKS & SPENCERS
WALMART
(Walgreens?)
Being, simultaneously/unhappily, NOT in posession of any product from
KING SOOPERS
SAINSBURYS
TARGET
VONS
7 - 11
CIRCLE K
Or any
SHELL
BP
GULF
CHEVRON
TEXACO
gas station knick-knacks.
Also! I DON´T drive...so I have had no need to mention
ROLLS-ROYCE
MERCEDEZ-BENZ
CHEVROLET
TOYOTA/PORSCHE
FORD, FIAT
...MASSARATI for THAT matter!
Yes, indeed. NO reference to any of the above listed Companies/products would lend themselves to my Creative output...or...like stars to the night, give an added lustre to my unfettered, intellectual freedom, regardless of the potential advertising income...
...whilst staying at the
HILTON
HOLIDAY INN
MOTEL 6
THE RAMADA
THE RITZ-CARLTON
THE DAYS INN
YMCA...
NO SIR-EEEE! It just wouldn´t do!....:)
c 2011, jan./dave delacroix/our man in europe/offenburg, germany
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 34: Kasablanka Kool
Part 34: Kasablanka Kool (the road to Georgie Gold)
Today, Helena, the barkeep at the Cafe Max...in Linz...SINGS!....but I don´t... She´s a full blooded, red-haired Austrian gal (a lot of red heads in Austria, by x by...) Nice change from the uniform Deutsche blondes, though I confess, I believe they ARE my - eye candy - favourites.
Everyone in German speaking Europe, incidentally, bycycles, (cycles!) probably almost daily and - who knows? - could possibly have been conceived ON one!... A lot like the average American....conceived, that is...in the back seat of a 1957 Chevrolet (truck or car), ergo, they (the German speaking population) have (the Girls, that is) legs up to their neck....From the exercise...And God bless ´em!
Moving along. As You, dear reader, have probably noticed...outside of my imbibing gargantuan amounts of beer (good stuff, not Coors) I´m something of a chain smoker and can happily report that Austria (near Switzerland, east of Germany, north of Italy, and most definitely EAST of New York City) is Smoker´s heaven!
....But!....(there´s always a "but", "butt"?)... Alas, the drinking dens and bars, least ways here in Linz, are NOT required to install any kind of ventilation system,
ergo, not only do these beer havens smell like yesterday´s ashtray but the current cigarette smoke/fog pervades like a good ol´ Jazz club of yore.
Forget the Camels/Marlboro stench in your clothes; even MY eyes are strained, scorched, and constantly watering!
YAY! Come and have a pint in Linz!
Fortunately, here at the Cafe Max....in Linz...there´s some other red-haired hottie, who, whilst herself a smoker, sits by, and keep opening the door to the frigid cold Strasse, thus venting the place, providing a minutes´ - smoking hell - respite!
I gotta chuckle when I think of the average Cheech & Chong movie...and the hell the film crew must have endured.
To smoke, or not to smoke? -THAT really is the question.
As for Cheech & Chong? God bless ´em, too; who would probably tell you: smokers dont die. Cigarettes do. Joints prevail...even after they are done. And EX-smokers, usually...sadly...die prematurely, either thru being stressed out or in want of a cigarette!
(Smokers DO die, of course, in DROVES)
Anno-domini, spiritus; as anyone got a light?
Linz?... Meeting Natasha is a bust, for after 5 minutes of hugs:
"You´re a week LATE!"
"I know."
"Fucker!"
"Bitch!"
"I love you, you asshole."
"I love you, too."
"I have to fly back to Paris, tomorrow."
"I know...It sucks."
"So do you."
"I know."
"So?"
"In the next Life..."
"Yes."
"We´ll always have Paris...!"
"We always DO." she says, finally.
And our faces grow/go pale.
c 2010. davedelacroix/our man in europe/cafe max/linz-austria
Today, Helena, the barkeep at the Cafe Max...in Linz...SINGS!....but I don´t... She´s a full blooded, red-haired Austrian gal (a lot of red heads in Austria, by x by...) Nice change from the uniform Deutsche blondes, though I confess, I believe they ARE my - eye candy - favourites.
Everyone in German speaking Europe, incidentally, bycycles, (cycles!) probably almost daily and - who knows? - could possibly have been conceived ON one!... A lot like the average American....conceived, that is...in the back seat of a 1957 Chevrolet (truck or car), ergo, they (the German speaking population) have (the Girls, that is) legs up to their neck....From the exercise...And God bless ´em!
Moving along. As You, dear reader, have probably noticed...outside of my imbibing gargantuan amounts of beer (good stuff, not Coors) I´m something of a chain smoker and can happily report that Austria (near Switzerland, east of Germany, north of Italy, and most definitely EAST of New York City) is Smoker´s heaven!
....But!....(there´s always a "but", "butt"?)... Alas, the drinking dens and bars, least ways here in Linz, are NOT required to install any kind of ventilation system,
ergo, not only do these beer havens smell like yesterday´s ashtray but the current cigarette smoke/fog pervades like a good ol´ Jazz club of yore.
Forget the Camels/Marlboro stench in your clothes; even MY eyes are strained, scorched, and constantly watering!
YAY! Come and have a pint in Linz!
Fortunately, here at the Cafe Max....in Linz...there´s some other red-haired hottie, who, whilst herself a smoker, sits by, and keep opening the door to the frigid cold Strasse, thus venting the place, providing a minutes´ - smoking hell - respite!
I gotta chuckle when I think of the average Cheech & Chong movie...and the hell the film crew must have endured.
To smoke, or not to smoke? -THAT really is the question.
As for Cheech & Chong? God bless ´em, too; who would probably tell you: smokers dont die. Cigarettes do. Joints prevail...even after they are done. And EX-smokers, usually...sadly...die prematurely, either thru being stressed out or in want of a cigarette!
(Smokers DO die, of course, in DROVES)
Anno-domini, spiritus; as anyone got a light?
Linz?... Meeting Natasha is a bust, for after 5 minutes of hugs:
"You´re a week LATE!"
"I know."
"Fucker!"
"Bitch!"
"I love you, you asshole."
"I love you, too."
"I have to fly back to Paris, tomorrow."
"I know...It sucks."
"So do you."
"I know."
"So?"
"In the next Life..."
"Yes."
"We´ll always have Paris...!"
"We always DO." she says, finally.
And our faces grow/go pale.
c 2010. davedelacroix/our man in europe/cafe max/linz-austria
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 33: The MAGI
Part 33: The MAGI (on the road to Georgie Gold)
Twix Xmas and (St.) "Silvester" (New Year) and with a clock ticking on my health and travel programme, it´s "crunch" time and..."laissez-fair" (spell?)...or outright LAZY, for which ALL Artists are renown, I must for-go a period of perfect Augsburgian peace where I have, this last week spent/enjoyed, with new brothers (the Magi), Linus, Martin & Karli, 3 dudes of the First Order/beer officiandos, who - during the bleak Xmas week - took me under their wing (whilst definitely ill from the cold), fed me the finest Bavarian cuisine...and had me on a strict medicinal regimen of Drum tobacco and Edelstoff pilsner!
But!...And Life marches on! Tomorrow calling, etc., thru a myriad of e-mails, I must proceed with these travels....and...er...like Heidi, when Grandma says; "Hey, bitch! How´d you like to go live with my estranged husband (your Grand-father) in the Alps (mountains)....It´s really NICE there?..."
And like Heidi, I say: "Ooo! Can we?"
Grandma: "Not WE, bitch! Just you!"
I go: "Ooo-wheee-OW!"
....But for the curisity of seeing (Paris) Natasha in her "kunster-heimat", Linz, Austria, I bow to the insanity of the frigid Winter´s journey, costs & all, full knowing that I´ll be riding a train full of leder-hosen, white-teeth, skiing fanatics...singing: "O Tannenbaum, O Tannebaum", yet certain in my mind that - like Heidi - I will return to the flatlands full of stories of HOW - like Heidi - I went nuts/gone bad up there in Austria, discovered a chain-saw, ran amok, and where/when - gasoline for chain-saw permitting - I cut off the heads of leder-hosen health nuts, snow-boarders and miscellaneous tourists...I then run into the absconding Family von Trapp who, fleeing - in THIS case - excessive Taxation, am immediately adopted for thje purposes of robbing provincial Post Offices FOR the purposes of financing the whole (von Trapp family) gangs sucessful immigration to the United States & would thereby live - for many decades - quietly...until Momma (Maria) von Trapp ( a Xanex fiend) would pen "The Sound of Muzak", draw the gaze of Hollywood...and ruin EVERYTHING!....whereby....
Sorry. My mind wanders... Where was I?
Oh yes. On my way to Linz, Austria. On the Road to Georgie Gold.
...And for now, brother MAGI´s: Farewell!...:)
c 2010. davedelacroix/our man in europe/munich, I think...
Twix Xmas and (St.) "Silvester" (New Year) and with a clock ticking on my health and travel programme, it´s "crunch" time and..."laissez-fair" (spell?)...or outright LAZY, for which ALL Artists are renown, I must for-go a period of perfect Augsburgian peace where I have, this last week spent/enjoyed, with new brothers (the Magi), Linus, Martin & Karli, 3 dudes of the First Order/beer officiandos, who - during the bleak Xmas week - took me under their wing (whilst definitely ill from the cold), fed me the finest Bavarian cuisine...and had me on a strict medicinal regimen of Drum tobacco and Edelstoff pilsner!
But!...And Life marches on! Tomorrow calling, etc., thru a myriad of e-mails, I must proceed with these travels....and...er...like Heidi, when Grandma says; "Hey, bitch! How´d you like to go live with my estranged husband (your Grand-father) in the Alps (mountains)....It´s really NICE there?..."
And like Heidi, I say: "Ooo! Can we?"
Grandma: "Not WE, bitch! Just you!"
I go: "Ooo-wheee-OW!"
....But for the curisity of seeing (Paris) Natasha in her "kunster-heimat", Linz, Austria, I bow to the insanity of the frigid Winter´s journey, costs & all, full knowing that I´ll be riding a train full of leder-hosen, white-teeth, skiing fanatics...singing: "O Tannenbaum, O Tannebaum", yet certain in my mind that - like Heidi - I will return to the flatlands full of stories of HOW - like Heidi - I went nuts/gone bad up there in Austria, discovered a chain-saw, ran amok, and where/when - gasoline for chain-saw permitting - I cut off the heads of leder-hosen health nuts, snow-boarders and miscellaneous tourists...I then run into the absconding Family von Trapp who, fleeing - in THIS case - excessive Taxation, am immediately adopted for thje purposes of robbing provincial Post Offices FOR the purposes of financing the whole (von Trapp family) gangs sucessful immigration to the United States & would thereby live - for many decades - quietly...until Momma (Maria) von Trapp ( a Xanex fiend) would pen "The Sound of Muzak", draw the gaze of Hollywood...and ruin EVERYTHING!....whereby....
Sorry. My mind wanders... Where was I?
Oh yes. On my way to Linz, Austria. On the Road to Georgie Gold.
...And for now, brother MAGI´s: Farewell!...:)
c 2010. davedelacroix/our man in europe/munich, I think...
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 32: The Nativity Scene
Part 32: The Nativity Scene (...the Road to Georgie Gold)
Twas a dark, cold and (stormy) lonely night; nee´ry a 12 pack had passed my lips (sometimes I´m known by my honary Lakota Indian name: "Ten Beers!")...
Anyways; jammin on the streets of Worms (here after, please pronounce as "Wharms" so as not to be distracted by the English connotation), I garner 20 euros, pack it in (it´s freezing!), hop it down Main St. and encounter a Russkie Wake (funeral for a dead guy) and, trust me, the term "wake" is really quite misleading for a Russki (Russian) passing!
...Candles, of course. Snackeroos, cookies, joints. Grim faces. Usual stuff: everyone´s freezing. But this is also a Punk Rocker Wake and a Saturnalia...or Bachanalia, of sorts...and is evident and in full force.
Ivans.
Sergeis.
Demetri (some kind of Gladiator)
Petruskas!
-Some nebulous dude named,
"Ahmed".
And an adjournment to an All-Nite Kebab gig, (so as to get warm in:) Wharm´s by the main rail station; Pilsner for 1 euro: drink all you can, prevails....!
But...alas... by 4 a.m., the Wake is over. Street candles, dead or extinguished, offerings of cookies/cake, devoured, and the ALL-nite Kebab dude, wanting to close.
It´s a bust!
And yet, it´s WEINACHTS (Xmas: Holy Water night) time; christmas Eve, in fact, in Deutschland. The inner-city pedestrian zones are crammed with little wooden huts that, during business hours and evenings, are host to vendors selling ALL THINGS XMAS.....yet at 4 a.m., it´s a "shack" ghost town INCLUDING the wooden, open-front cabin that houses the straw bales & All -Nativity Scene; birth place of little ol´ handsome, white boy, Jesus, surrounded by plastic lambs, goats, sheep-dudes, etc.
Thus! (And: BEHOLD!) I espy my Motel 6 for the night with warm - real - hay, even a blanket, and - Lodry-Lordy! - they even left the Porch light (Motel 6 ad) on for me and...Yes! There WAS, I repeat, Was a blanket (for some real lamb, goat, or me) which, come the dawn, I purloin in the finest Bohemian fashion and take it all the way South to Karlsruhr...and, spent this Holy night, feeling warm, fine, definitely Spiritual, and - ecconomy size - divine!
Like you would!.....(?).... And the beat goes on.
c 2010 davedelacroix/our man in europe/ Linz-Austria/cafe MAX
Twas a dark, cold and (stormy) lonely night; nee´ry a 12 pack had passed my lips (sometimes I´m known by my honary Lakota Indian name: "Ten Beers!")...
Anyways; jammin on the streets of Worms (here after, please pronounce as "Wharms" so as not to be distracted by the English connotation), I garner 20 euros, pack it in (it´s freezing!), hop it down Main St. and encounter a Russkie Wake (funeral for a dead guy) and, trust me, the term "wake" is really quite misleading for a Russki (Russian) passing!
...Candles, of course. Snackeroos, cookies, joints. Grim faces. Usual stuff: everyone´s freezing. But this is also a Punk Rocker Wake and a Saturnalia...or Bachanalia, of sorts...and is evident and in full force.
Ivans.
Sergeis.
Demetri (some kind of Gladiator)
Petruskas!
-Some nebulous dude named,
"Ahmed".
And an adjournment to an All-Nite Kebab gig, (so as to get warm in:) Wharm´s by the main rail station; Pilsner for 1 euro: drink all you can, prevails....!
But...alas... by 4 a.m., the Wake is over. Street candles, dead or extinguished, offerings of cookies/cake, devoured, and the ALL-nite Kebab dude, wanting to close.
It´s a bust!
And yet, it´s WEINACHTS (Xmas: Holy Water night) time; christmas Eve, in fact, in Deutschland. The inner-city pedestrian zones are crammed with little wooden huts that, during business hours and evenings, are host to vendors selling ALL THINGS XMAS.....yet at 4 a.m., it´s a "shack" ghost town INCLUDING the wooden, open-front cabin that houses the straw bales & All -Nativity Scene; birth place of little ol´ handsome, white boy, Jesus, surrounded by plastic lambs, goats, sheep-dudes, etc.
Thus! (And: BEHOLD!) I espy my Motel 6 for the night with warm - real - hay, even a blanket, and - Lodry-Lordy! - they even left the Porch light (Motel 6 ad) on for me and...Yes! There WAS, I repeat, Was a blanket (for some real lamb, goat, or me) which, come the dawn, I purloin in the finest Bohemian fashion and take it all the way South to Karlsruhr...and, spent this Holy night, feeling warm, fine, definitely Spiritual, and - ecconomy size - divine!
Like you would!.....(?).... And the beat goes on.
c 2010 davedelacroix/our man in europe/ Linz-Austria/cafe MAX
Saturday, December 18, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Part 31: "Jules & Jim"
Part 31: "Jules & Jim" (the Road to Georgie Gold)
Jules & Jim. Constantine & Dave. Ocassionally (rarely) in your travels you meet a real pal who you warm to more than most.
Constantine, from some "kleine stadt" (small town) in East Germany, fitted this bill; an Engineer by profession, music-art orientated, altruistic and an all round good bloke.
I crash at his pad for a coupl´a days.
I allude to the classic Truffaut movie, "Jules & Jim" because - of course - it involves a mutual fascination with an enchantress named Lenore who we BOTH meet, simultaneouly whilst I´m cracking out tunes on the Friday nights streets of Karlsruhr (which, incidentally, means Charles´ retreat or Rest).
They love my music, the 3 of us go for beers at Radio "X", a music bar, and have a fine old time... And so begins a few days, a´la a Roman Holiday, filled with mucho mirth and a few melodramas/mishaps which includes my losing my wallet/I.D./credit card...and breaking my old faithful guitar!
(Lenore´s MOM, the Lady Monika, provides me with a new 6 string!)
The beautiful Lenore of course, is an Artist (like Natasha, in Paris); raven-haired, mysterious, vivacious, adoreable, and whilst she conquors both mine and Constantine´s heart, it is implicitly clear that neither of us will win her love beyond the parameters of the warmest friendship... And in this unique instance we are - maybe just 3 lonely people - happy in the concorde of togetherness and freed of romantic/sexual tension?
...During one interlude when Constantine is/has to leave for a business commitment, Lenore & I do the town, Lenore, pounding the Pilsners, matching THIS old War Horse, beer for beer, ending up at an old abatoir/slaughter-house, now converted into a Punk rock bar called, the "Alte HACKerei" (the old butcher´s shop/factory). And I dont really know how it worked out for Edgar Allen Poe (Lenore/died, probably...) but MY Lenore took suddenly ill/got drunk and began "barfing" (vomiting) in fine style.
Firstly, on the bar´s table (fortunately the place was dark and we were seated in
a corner/loud Punk music going on), so I run to the toilet, grab paper towels, return to table, but the "beautiful, raven-haired Lenore" has also "chundered" (Australian for vomit) all over the floor!
Back to the toilet. Get more towels. Rush back to the table.
BARF!!!
Lenore is pumping her guts!
(go get some more towels)
...Meantime, the other "Alte HACK-erei" patrons, several in number, wearing on & off Punk reagalia (Brit Union Jack flag tee-shirts/studs, etc) and the female barkeep (bleach blonde/anaemic) and 2 waitresses...seem little disturbed by Lenore´s plight; the latter, probably happy that I am cleaning up the mess!
...(Also) Meantime, the "beautiful, raven-haired Lenore" is kissing Wood/face down on the table, dribbling bile on the beer mats and the carpet of towels that I have provided, looking pale as death...and I´M taking her (wrist) pulse, telling the gawkers that "she´s my ex-wife/just flown in from L.A./ jet lagged/time zoned out/funny water, etc"...but am still astounded that NO-ONE really gives a crap...unlike in Denver (USA) where we´d be busted, Eighty-Sixed! -She´s 21, I`m her dad`s age, ergo, I go to jail for whatever the (summoned) ambulence/cop people can jam me up with!
Anyhow; nothing. And eventually, I relax (sort´a-kind´a), but when not semi-comatose/dribbling vomit, the "beautiful, raven-haired Lenore" is STILL unctuous, electively bolemic, whatever? -Let the Games begin!
ME: "Lenore, Sweetie? CARROTS & PEAS!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
ME: "Spaghetti meatballs!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
Me: "Chicken Vindaloo!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
Me: "Waterloo!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
Me: (lol) "BOOG-A-LOO!"
Lenore: "BARF-BARF!!!"
And so on, Lenore, like an "at your command" Squeezy Doll, she barfs on que...a date from Hell turns into a Comedic fiasco.
Constantine?... Well, buddy, ya should´a been there!
Cheers!.....:)
c 2010. Cafe "Le Journal", Karlsruhr/ Marnia bar tending/davedelacroix/our man in Europe.
Jules & Jim. Constantine & Dave. Ocassionally (rarely) in your travels you meet a real pal who you warm to more than most.
Constantine, from some "kleine stadt" (small town) in East Germany, fitted this bill; an Engineer by profession, music-art orientated, altruistic and an all round good bloke.
I crash at his pad for a coupl´a days.
I allude to the classic Truffaut movie, "Jules & Jim" because - of course - it involves a mutual fascination with an enchantress named Lenore who we BOTH meet, simultaneouly whilst I´m cracking out tunes on the Friday nights streets of Karlsruhr (which, incidentally, means Charles´ retreat or Rest).
They love my music, the 3 of us go for beers at Radio "X", a music bar, and have a fine old time... And so begins a few days, a´la a Roman Holiday, filled with mucho mirth and a few melodramas/mishaps which includes my losing my wallet/I.D./credit card...and breaking my old faithful guitar!
(Lenore´s MOM, the Lady Monika, provides me with a new 6 string!)
The beautiful Lenore of course, is an Artist (like Natasha, in Paris); raven-haired, mysterious, vivacious, adoreable, and whilst she conquors both mine and Constantine´s heart, it is implicitly clear that neither of us will win her love beyond the parameters of the warmest friendship... And in this unique instance we are - maybe just 3 lonely people - happy in the concorde of togetherness and freed of romantic/sexual tension?
...During one interlude when Constantine is/has to leave for a business commitment, Lenore & I do the town, Lenore, pounding the Pilsners, matching THIS old War Horse, beer for beer, ending up at an old abatoir/slaughter-house, now converted into a Punk rock bar called, the "Alte HACKerei" (the old butcher´s shop/factory). And I dont really know how it worked out for Edgar Allen Poe (Lenore/died, probably...) but MY Lenore took suddenly ill/got drunk and began "barfing" (vomiting) in fine style.
Firstly, on the bar´s table (fortunately the place was dark and we were seated in
a corner/loud Punk music going on), so I run to the toilet, grab paper towels, return to table, but the "beautiful, raven-haired Lenore" has also "chundered" (Australian for vomit) all over the floor!
Back to the toilet. Get more towels. Rush back to the table.
BARF!!!
Lenore is pumping her guts!
(go get some more towels)
...Meantime, the other "Alte HACK-erei" patrons, several in number, wearing on & off Punk reagalia (Brit Union Jack flag tee-shirts/studs, etc) and the female barkeep (bleach blonde/anaemic) and 2 waitresses...seem little disturbed by Lenore´s plight; the latter, probably happy that I am cleaning up the mess!
...(Also) Meantime, the "beautiful, raven-haired Lenore" is kissing Wood/face down on the table, dribbling bile on the beer mats and the carpet of towels that I have provided, looking pale as death...and I´M taking her (wrist) pulse, telling the gawkers that "she´s my ex-wife/just flown in from L.A./ jet lagged/time zoned out/funny water, etc"...but am still astounded that NO-ONE really gives a crap...unlike in Denver (USA) where we´d be busted, Eighty-Sixed! -She´s 21, I`m her dad`s age, ergo, I go to jail for whatever the (summoned) ambulence/cop people can jam me up with!
Anyhow; nothing. And eventually, I relax (sort´a-kind´a), but when not semi-comatose/dribbling vomit, the "beautiful, raven-haired Lenore" is STILL unctuous, electively bolemic, whatever? -Let the Games begin!
ME: "Lenore, Sweetie? CARROTS & PEAS!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
ME: "Spaghetti meatballs!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
Me: "Chicken Vindaloo!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
Me: "Waterloo!"
Lenore: "BARF!"
Me: (lol) "BOOG-A-LOO!"
Lenore: "BARF-BARF!!!"
And so on, Lenore, like an "at your command" Squeezy Doll, she barfs on que...a date from Hell turns into a Comedic fiasco.
Constantine?... Well, buddy, ya should´a been there!
Cheers!.....:)
c 2010. Cafe "Le Journal", Karlsruhr/ Marnia bar tending/davedelacroix/our man in Europe.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: Part 30: Down to the Wire
Part 30: Down to the Wire
BLOG NOTE: The rest of this Blog/Book falls - loosely - under the sub-title: The ROAD to GEORGIE GOLD...and will probably NOT be sequential...
(OK)
...As William Shatner (Captain KIRK) sings...via a "fun-ster" T.V. commercial: "Does anyone REALLY know what Time it is?"
Think David Crosby: "Almost cut my hair."
I, too, have gotta say...I´m really missing YOU (dear ones)
Since I
Have been gone.
The best laid plans of Mice & Men... & seasons´ change, finding me with a busted guitar AND...a wallet (I.D., pixs of my kid/daughter, credit card.... and one very lonely condom) which I lost in a night´s revelry, naked in my (spiritual?) penury.
The Blackberry (phone), the Motorola (phone), the laptop, the "fashion" wardrobe, the huge "wheelie" bag, all gone by the wayside.
Physically 30llbs lighter, too, in a brutal winter season where body fat is actually an asset!
The Dave Delacroix "weight-loss" regimen: Go hungry. BE hungry.
Trust me. Even with "liquid bread" (beer) you lose the Pounds!... Hopefully, without losing your mind.
Yes. I´m down to the wire...in the Cafe Napoleon, Karlsruhr, Germany.
Wish I was in MEMPHIS!!!
c 2ß10 dave delacroix/our man in europe
BLOG NOTE: The rest of this Blog/Book falls - loosely - under the sub-title: The ROAD to GEORGIE GOLD...and will probably NOT be sequential...
(OK)
...As William Shatner (Captain KIRK) sings...via a "fun-ster" T.V. commercial: "Does anyone REALLY know what Time it is?"
Think David Crosby: "Almost cut my hair."
I, too, have gotta say...I´m really missing YOU (dear ones)
Since I
Have been gone.
The best laid plans of Mice & Men... & seasons´ change, finding me with a busted guitar AND...a wallet (I.D., pixs of my kid/daughter, credit card.... and one very lonely condom) which I lost in a night´s revelry, naked in my (spiritual?) penury.
The Blackberry (phone), the Motorola (phone), the laptop, the "fashion" wardrobe, the huge "wheelie" bag, all gone by the wayside.
Physically 30llbs lighter, too, in a brutal winter season where body fat is actually an asset!
The Dave Delacroix "weight-loss" regimen: Go hungry. BE hungry.
Trust me. Even with "liquid bread" (beer) you lose the Pounds!... Hopefully, without losing your mind.
Yes. I´m down to the wire...in the Cafe Napoleon, Karlsruhr, Germany.
Wish I was in MEMPHIS!!!
c 2ß10 dave delacroix/our man in europe
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: part 29: High Noon in Hochenheim
Part 29: High Noon in Hochenheim
Stealin´ a train ride South I arrive in thee "metropolis" of Hockenheim, home to Formula One Racing, apparently...
Not getting much further than the Bahnhof (station) er, "kiosk" (smokes, beer, hot dogs)...a "dress Casual" standing - no seats/tables - affair...with ashtrays and access to the Bahnhof toilet (you gotta ask for the Sclussel/key) in the Deutsche blitzkrieg Winter weather, I while away an hour or 3 drinking Eichbaun Pilsner with the local 3 Stooges; Curly, Larry & Karl-Heinz who - fashion-wise - could have tried out for B-roles in the Coen Bros movie, Fargo.
"JA!"
....and speak NO English...but MIRRIAM does! (the kiosk manager)
Oh yeah... A trifle too hammered to hitch-hike (South) to Karlsruhr....or (pondering) weaken and jump back on the Bahn (train)...? THAT is the question!
YOU decide.
2010. davedelacroix/cafe napoleon, Karlsruhr/our man in europe
Stealin´ a train ride South I arrive in thee "metropolis" of Hockenheim, home to Formula One Racing, apparently...
Not getting much further than the Bahnhof (station) er, "kiosk" (smokes, beer, hot dogs)...a "dress Casual" standing - no seats/tables - affair...with ashtrays and access to the Bahnhof toilet (you gotta ask for the Sclussel/key) in the Deutsche blitzkrieg Winter weather, I while away an hour or 3 drinking Eichbaun Pilsner with the local 3 Stooges; Curly, Larry & Karl-Heinz who - fashion-wise - could have tried out for B-roles in the Coen Bros movie, Fargo.
"JA!"
....and speak NO English...but MIRRIAM does! (the kiosk manager)
Oh yeah... A trifle too hammered to hitch-hike (South) to Karlsruhr....or (pondering) weaken and jump back on the Bahn (train)...? THAT is the question!
YOU decide.
2010. davedelacroix/cafe napoleon, Karlsruhr/our man in europe
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