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.

OUR MAN in EUROPE, now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "Space Cadet."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Space Cadet."

...SO I MARRIED A SPACE CADET.  U DON'T wanna know. So I jumped off the Empire State building, TRIED to flap my arms/hands/fingers before I SPLURGED, serious headache on the sidewalk concrete 50 floors down.

Concerned Citizens not un-used to NEW YORK CITY'S banking fortune's taciturn dynamics nevertheless GROUPED-Cell phones filming-waving, Toreadors-witness to a dying Matador? All suicides have a sense of "majestic", a finger to the World?

I gurgled blood: "Tell that bitch we R outta milk & we need another 6-pack of OLD MILWAUKIE- RED!" A sigh from the surrounding Manhattan Champagne set.

Yet, these Citizens, mystified, leaned FWD. I gurgled some more blood, so I outlined, gave them my blood type, appendix scar situ & to donate my penis-foreskin to some BUM down in the Bowery. It worked for me, maybe it'll work for him?

Meanwhile, still gurgling blood, the ambulance arrived (stretcher bearers pissed/supposed to be Off-Shift?) & TWO COP WAGONS-uniformed Barney Fifes dressed ready to invade Poland/this was in "Hell's Kitchen" near the Beirut Cafe?

"Hands on your heads-NIGGERS!" (...In my body-Splurge, mud & dirt from what I could SEE...everyone, the Cellphone Toreadors WERE WHITE but - fashionistas - wearing uniform Blue-Beat trilby hats & RAYBAN sunglasses) A WHITE COP'S honest mistake?

COPS: "His he..."

MIO; (gurgling blood) "Are you guys' GERMAN!?"

Swift kick to my head. (Irish Cops.)

...They cleared the crowd, cellphone/Utube parasites as "I", ambulanced on my own personal-valet stretcher was conveyed to the nearest hospital CASUALTY WARD. That Hotel California for America's Un-insured.

...MONTHS LATER: "The Man who jumped off the Empire State Building & LIVED", CELEBRITY CITY, on Talk Shows in my wheelchair, "Why'd U do it?" "I married a Space Cadet. She drove me nuts?", "How do U now FEEL?", "It's so hard to BE a Paraleiptic-wheelchair Sex Symbol; it's-what I always tell my fans?"

MEDIA: "But...So how do U FEEL?"

MIO: "Dunno Bro. Some bastard hearing my last Will & Testament, I was delirious!"

MEDIA: "U donated something in your final altruistic 'breath?"

MIO: "Yup! My foreskin has gone! WOTCHAGONNA-DO!?"

MEDIA: "WE FEEL your pain & hope U get Closure!"

c. Dabe Delacroix, beware the Ides of March 2026.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Unknown Soldier."

 Our Man in Europe, now BELIZE (Chateaux-Pelican Guest Villa) Dave Delacroix: "The Unknown Soldier."

...I WUZ ON A MISSION. Stuck behind enemy lines. KILLERS, Wars refuge, surrounding. Bugs/flies least of my worries. Heidi's photo, breast pocket, behind my medal, a Silver Star.  But where have all the Flowers gone?

I was a DOCU-monologue, at best an obscure soliloquy, a POET: Where have all the flowers gone? And "in deep", up to my Shekels, with NO JESUS to redeem me; where have all the flowers...natures thingies...where have they gone? -Poppies row on row?

Graveyards, Cemeteries have LEGS. They follow War's madness. I was "badged & chained" like a fool in a bigger fool's game. I BLUNDERED -lonely as a cloud, just WHERE have all the flowers gone? Too late to be a Poet.

A ROOM with a view, a fantasy, now a dire necessity. Could your heart reach mine, a pumping organ, stone cold? A killer of killers? ...Horizons whisper but just where have all the flowers gone? A dawn patrol. A snipers bullet. Then rapid fire. No-one knew I was dead bah the shouting.

I WUZ ON A MISSION, parachuted, hand grenade twix my teeth, an AK-47 machine gun in my lap. Just a soldier, a pawn in somebody else's power game. A BODY BAG shipped back to the U.S.A. & lest we forget, where R your flowers now? An Unknown soldier. The green fields of France R filled with my brethren.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in EUROPE/now BELIZE (a.k.a. David Michael Oxley...on Facebook); the Loser with the Floosies: "GHOSTS!!!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: the Loser with the Floosies: "GHOSTS!"

(dedicato: Ina Kaab)

THAT GHOST, the ORINGINAL GHOST - in the way of things - her OWN GHOST - go figure/SPOOKY- who never felt haunted. NEVER felt HAUNTED... (U with me so far?) The Ghost? Some Gal. Relax. Love is foggy.

Yet She, unconfounded, A GHOST! -she flitters thru Life's gossamer intangibility, a flicker in twilight, an undecipherable enigma that U just cannot pin down. (U with me so far?) ...wish "I" was. ("I talked dat weeping Willow how to sigh!") Let's all chain smoke!

THIS GHOST whose lipstick never smeared a Vino glass, a shirt collar, but perhaps a memory, maybe crossed YOUR path ...who did everything WRONG; wearing "Ninfa N0-5" perfume, or a GUITAR, or tits like rocks yet could trash your accustomed "feng sui"...that BOOGALOO, that Time of U? WotchagonnaDo? More Boogaloo? I need your advice!!!

This GHOST who - methinks - missed HER only Ghost who now midnight oil parks her toes on foreign soil; will U too suffer; the love U have to give? A force of Nature. A Psychopathic sneeze. "ALLORS!!! Traveler, who pass on by? This milestone is meant for .... sign in your name. For now, that Ghost is U.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. (A Loser with the Floosies.) Ghost on Ghost.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: CRIMI-TRILOGY No. 3: "The Great BATSBY."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: CRIMI-TRILOGY No. 3: "The Great BATSBY."

...It's SOOOO hard to be a SEX SYMBOL as any Sex Symbol knows. U could BE a cinematic/comedic dwarf (loved!) a Leading Man/STARLETTE/the Oomph Gal with Internet stalkers up the wazee?

(Lerman coming over with the bourbon?)

U R the ONLY woman I ever loved, No. 62 s-why I always invite U to my pool parties/bring your friends/welcome to the ILLUSION of Paradise. Distilled-TIME. A "cosa-nostra."

(Police Sergeant Jones arriving with Johnny Walker Black Label?)

An anchor, a backbone, a sinew-spiritual of SOUL, a long-forgotten song usurping Times natural blockade of forgetting....

O.K. ENOUGH of THAT verbiage, bugs here in Corozal-Belize crawling cross my laptop screen...

"OK! ACTION!!! LIGHTS!!! CAMERA!!"

OUR MAN in EUROPE, now Belize, DAVE DELACROIX: "THE BIG BATSBY!"

...The TRAIN that never stopped, the Lemons on your tree, an ALIBHI, a "Maigret" detective, smokey, PARIS-1930s (cinematic B/W), LOCOMOTIVE that seeps into your nostalgia which whispers COGNAC, Calvados, your Pappas pipe smoke, a "debutante de la vie?" And that night of the... that BIG BATSBY SOIREE, the night U lost your virginity> Remember?

Somehow profound, somehow we remember, somehow, we DIE feeling like an April's fool WITHIN a fool, idiosinz-metic (? ) an inner spiral all the way to Loves front door; pity the POETS Verlaine, Rimbaud who pissed on each other's manuscripts, the urinal on the Boulevard St. Germaine, where Superstars, a 'la Johnny Depp reside, stinking, yet glistens in the Paris-morning sun...

,,,the GREAT BATSBY...shot dead in his own swimming pool, oddly, jitterbug jazz music homicide-backdrop. His servants HUMMED: "Do I have to fuck U/ Do I have to fuck your Wife?" It's always, summertime, tough on Long Island. A golf club over your head. A swimming pool. A floater. Maybe a "transient" did the dirty deed? A passer-by? "We just made the Cocktails. Can we keep these Tuxedoes?"

As for gay Paree: The Train that never stops. The lemons on your tree. An Alibi. Sherlock Holmes, MAIGRET, a 7-11-USA, or as in Mexico, 24-7, the OXO convenience outlet: The BIG, the GREAT BATSBY, like the ENRON-CORPORATION, too big to fail. A Charleston upbeat song simmers across Big Batsby's swimming pool. Even Macbeth's three Witches decline to wail.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: A CRIMI-Trinity, No.2: "Kit Marlowe in a Fedora."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: A CRIMI-Trinity, No. 2: "Kit Marlowe in a Fedora."

...AS I WUZ WORKING ON MAH FOOT DANGLING, ruminating on an overdue "Mullet" grooming, trying to get that song - one I didn't write - out of my morning's head; Bloody Mary's don't always cure what ails U, your GALS foto U slam face down and as the phone ain't ringing, U just ignore it. Never bug a Dog with its bone. If U got a dog. If it's got a bone. If U got a phone.

...WUZ working on mah "foot-dangling" like a drunk in a Motel room, staring down a fifth of "JACK" hypnotized by my tobacco-stained fingernails, accomplishers to the signing of Bank Cheques (kites) U expect to bounce, no tomorrow (Peggy Lee singing: "Get out a'here. Get me some money too.)  no monetary expectations, a new fedora- a dream. The best laid plans of Mice & Men just coming home to SCREAM.

WUZ working on my "footsie-whootsie", that rocking chair/Punk Rock chewing Gum of the mind; an inner kernel of festivity- which sobriety cannot hide.  JUXTAPOSED, a parallel, a universe, I cranked UP the Venetian blinds, behind me, SHE cruised into the room, a CLIENT, Safari-tied gaberdine, pink slacks, a scimitar straw hat (worth $50, $10 resale), Chanel No. something. A fresh wave upon my barren shore. Gene Tierney?

As I, now done with my "foot dangling", I resurrected my limbs! Nothing PRIVATE 'bout a P.I. We're listed in Phone Books, on the Internet, sometimes even on PORNHUB as long as we wear Spandex, a THONG, nor cavorting with anyone under 16, P.I. MARLOWE with a new (enquiry agent) Case. UP to his neck in competition like Kit Marlowe, William Shakespeare, Marlowe at his creative heels to solve/explain Julius Caesar's murder...was this Gal, my new Client - Cleopatra by name - I ASKED her were U actually in the room?  Cigarette butts anywhere? Temple of Pompey? A private address? Honey, I think I need more information?...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.