(Piacenza) Take 28: The Pin Downs

Take 28: The Pin Downs


Dear BABI-DOLL; am looking forward to you making your European Grand Tour, anon...and DO expect you to sojourn at "mio piccolini Albergo" (hotel), least ways, for a part of your Tour:

                                  35 euros a nite/125 a week/all amenities, incl. full bathroom fac, big screen TV-
                                  when my buddy TUNA actually hooks it up/GRANDE suite: the "Benedictine
                                  Suite" (Roman-esque arched "camera grande"), king-size beds/ full kitchen-
                                  ette/reception area - where "I" actually get to crash - plus the "fitness center":
                                  a functional BICYCLE - which if DON'T "sell off" soon...will BE there for
                                  your convenience IN the "Suite" (ride it around the room!) or outside - for
                                  your exclusive use -on the winding streets of Piacenza.... Laundry?
                                  Inter-net Cafe? Super-market? -throw a rock! -they're next door! Located
                                  right of center of Piacenza' Piazza Cavali- Central; 100 bars/restaurants/cafes
                                  are in walking distance!...:)

I must write quickly, Cheri, as I'm due "on stage" in 1/2 an hour at nearby LADY BAR where I host a Cabaret every Friday evening, a micro-cosm of Fellin-Las Vegas intensity and am HOPING - during your visit - you will "sit in", vocally, play BONGOS, strum a 6 String and add to the festive atmosphere that prevails there...in Spades! (Dahling? It rocks!)

Word has it that you have recently become (Facebook) "friends" with IL CONTE Paolo di B. della Piacenza!

I cannot commend him but in the highest regard. He is one of Italy's GRANDE CAVILIERI. His entourage/Court (guys & gals) here, also wish to enjoin their friendship and be of any assistance during your stay.

So, Sweetie-pie? Should you arrive SOONER than later - hopefully with your OTHER female PIN DOWNS music colleagues/illuminati....the present (winter) season  probably calls for THIGH HIGH "woolly" stockings - a "woolly" BRA for that matter! - , a "penchant" for "tutte bene vino" at 1/2 the USA prices...and, because I KNOW you make a great Curry? -don't sweat it; I got ALL the spices!


c 2011/dave delacroix/LORD BORGO/Piacenza/Italy

(Piacenza) Take 27: I Win the Nobel Prize

Take 27: I win the Nobel Prize

(for medicine)

It was dawn. I was washing my armpit (the left one) and I noticed, unbeknownst to me...during the night...an incredible CYST had appeared (in said location/left armpit/ obviously a Communist) and was there protruding with "gangbusters!" attitude and threatening to metamorphose into a veritable Mount Vesuvius!
(Hairy, too... Why does hair grow on Cysts?)

Anyway; so. So? -I immediately - quite nude - ran to my humble refrigerator and grabbed a canister of "Krauter-weed" spray and my trusty jar of "Harisma" (product of Tunisia) red hot chili peppers in tomato sauce, garlic, etc., which I ADMINISTERED, with a large spoon and spatchelor... to my most recently appeared ailment WHICH! -having liberally applied said-"Home made salve"...FOUND!...to my amazement? -said "hairy Cyst was in full retreat, dying by its own volition, waving - I guess? - the proverbial White Flag!

Cancer? Yup!. Got THAT one nailed down.

The Nobel Prize for Medicine?

Guess those folks up in FINLAND have yet still to be notified!


c 2011/dave delacroix/lord borgo/piacenza/italy

(Piacenza) Take 26: "Quo Vadis?"

Take 26: "Quo Vadis?"


Yo Amici! (friends) Having been of late, formally introduced to the Countessa PonteOlio-Olio at her "citta-della Castella" formal dance...in celebration of the 70th anniversary of when Ernest Hemmingway once - here - sojourned and sowed his wild oats, enjoyed some "fly-fishing", etc., I? -on being presented to the Countessa's father, "IL BARONE di PonteOlio-Olio" am subsequently officially engaged, soon to be married - to the Countessa... have 7 kids - which apparently takes about 7 years to accomplish - send the little blighters off to (schools:) Rodean or Eton, then Oxford or Cambridge (to complete their great British education/induction into formal Homosexuality) and ON their Gay return, whilst I? -being then, Lord Borgo (Il Conte di PonteOlio-Olio) grow fat on my estate's pastures, vineyards & tenant's rents...are THEN expected to get them (the 7 kids) suitably employed with such illustrious THIEVES as Lloyds Babk, Credit Lyonaise or the more humble, yet equally scavenger-mongering ilk of Barclays or Deutsche Bank....
...am, nevertheless, having second thoughts about putting the latter part of my life out to the particular pasture?

A fittingly prestigious ending, to an otherwise ignoble career; to be sure. Nice Castle, n'all. Italy, of course. It'll do.

The gal? (the Countessa, my intended) Pretty cute. Medium height. She's cool enough, though she IS quite obsessive about some obscure UK Indie band called Lloyd Cole & the Commotions!

The old man? THEE Barone/Count. A widower. He's a jovial old boy with a penchant for English Tweeds, Plus-4 pantalones, hunting dogs, shot guns...and has a kick-butt wine cellar; his Barolo's being my personal favorites.

Alas!... And "Salutte, mio amici!" I do NOT think this is where I am going, or indeed - call me an idiot! - where I WANT to go....and so, taking an early morning, discreet departure, I take my leave and proceed briskly from PonteOlio-Olio (castle and town) down the foothills towards the (river) Po valley plain. An expansive scene of gentle rusticity under a clear December bright sky.

"QUO VADIS?" tremors a voice from up on high, whilst I am trying to hitch a ride North to Piacenza.

"Quo vadis, dude?" I reply, then after taking a slug from a liberated bottle of the Barone's Barolo: "Quo vadis Rock & Roll!"

Salutte!


c 2011/dave delacroix/Lord Borgo/Piacenza/Italy/Somebody lend me $20!...:)

(Piacenza) Take 25: Fire Exit!

Take 25: Fire Exit!


Ya know you're running on low octane (fuel) when anything you write has a longer title than the actual, er...creative piece!
For example:

"Wot I did on mah holidays, including how...how I GOT UP, went down to the Drug Store, drank some Budweiser's with "bubba", tried to get into Mary-Lou's pants (no dice!), played some Dice, backside of the Drug Store (actually, the 7-11), got buzzed by the Cops, we ran for it, left my money behind, went on home (which had been burglarized whilst I was out), the Utility company, meanwhile, had shut off the power cos I hadn't paid the frickin' bill, it rained, and so, I went back to bed...SHIT! -I forgot to buy smokes!!!"

Creative piece?

"I'm looking for the Fire Exit!"

c 2011/dave delacroix/just received a whooping Utility bill!/Piacenza/Italy/Again? -merry bloody Xmas!

(Piacenza) Take 24: Wide-eyed.

Take 24: Wide-eyed.


The noble Art of Cooking is...well? It's just that! It IS an Art. Every dude I ever met prided himself - usually at at BBQ -  on being a great cook.
I too, also suffer from this illusion; ignorant, possibly, in ALL innocence: Wide-eyed.

But I DO like to cook, especially to treat and entertain my chums (culinary surprises, etc.). And it DOES take years to get past "food porn" and create epicurean beauty....

When I was 17?  (it was a very good year:) I finally figured out that "sunny-side-up" eggs...are NOT to be treated like Pasta...which is to say? -to ascertain their readiness, you DON'T fling them at the kitchen wall...and if they STICK? -they're done!
You end up with a yellow, greasy mess.

When I was 27? (It was a very good year:) I discovered that cooking rice ON the BBQ grill dosen't actually work.
Without a pan, of some sort, the blessed stuff just filters down through the grill, mingles with the charcoal, looks AND smells like shit, and when you serve a lump of rice-caked charcoal to your guests? -the un-grateful swines get downright uppity! (?)

When I was 37? (It was a very good year:) .... OK. It's SALSA-time!

1 can of crushed tomatoes
1 squeeze of lemon juice
A sprinkle of oregano
1/2 a chopped onion
A "glance" of Olive Oil
Mucho chopped HOT Red Chillis
Crushed Garlic clove
....Chuck it all in a pan, heat it up, then let cool....Then serve with Tortilla chips, Corona, Dos Equis, or Moretti beer (lots of).
It was?....A very good year.

I HAVE (possibly, you too?) once in a while, on my travels, gone hungry, begged from the church, gone Super-market "dumpster diving" and many, many times, literally SANG for my supper.
(Still DO, my friends)

But there is not a doubt in my mind?... There is something quite integrally wholesome about Working for one's sustenance.
Folks grab a bite at McDonald's or some fast-food joint without a second thought or care!

Tonight? I guarantee you. There are MILLIONS of folks...and very sad kids, Wide-Eyed with Hunger's stare.


c 2011/dave delacroix/Lord Borgo/Piacenza/Italy/Merry Christmas!

OUR MAN in EUROPE/davedelacroix/Part 23: The Winter of our dreams.

Part 23: The Winter of our dreams


Fellini bar, Italiano, suburban, patio scene, carnivale atmosphere; but not everything... is as it seems... Some young, TALL kid, who, perhaps once had "piano lessons" (he's a songwriter) seeing me jam some fundamental chord changes at HIS local bar/and there-after; saying "Hello", can only retort with; "DON'T talk to ME, fucker. You are full of shit, etc., etc.".

It was at the BAR LUPIN, on the Sabbath. And? - fortunately, due to my Religious observances - it's a night when I DON'T get into fisticuffs...or wake up with a blade in my lower abdomen.
(Stranger things - for THIS old boy - have been known to happen)

Still. It's a wake up call. You sweat, you bleed, ON STAGE; and not everyone is gonna like it; the drunks, the boyfriend's of the Girls who dig your muse...? The "wannabee Rock stars", social failures and the like...

I know where the girls go to; but just WHERE do these "SHELL of MEN"; to where, or HOW do they Meet their Maker?
Do they wear Soul-less "Nike" shoes....? A lame smile, perhaps? And? - to my MALE readers: Is it YOU?

Man casts his fellow Man
onto some rocky shore
for want of the sex
and getting more.

No brother, blood, no kin, no heart;
"fuck-blocker", worthless
and worthless heart
winds into a lonely room;

The Evil eye, the Green of Envy
Takes you down,
THEN ALL ALONE
Don't call, don't E-mail;
That Girl & I?....

We're real busy.


.......And so it goes....:)


c 2011/davedelacroix/piacenza/italy

OUR MAN in EUROPE/davedelacroix: Take 22: Cherish

Take 22: Cherish


That blessed song: "We Are the World (We are the Children)" sung by the biggest horde of Hollywood scallywags under the sun, still - alas - "broncos" around my morning (hangover) mind...like a sink filled with unwashed dishes.

I try to think of pretty things:

Margaret Thatcher in the Nude.
Queen Liz (the second) .....cutting off her own head.
A lifetime's guarrantee of DRUM tobacco.
An old comrade unexpectedly showing up with a bottle of single malt!

"We ARE the World!..."

Leastways? -I can dream. And I can think of Appollinaire, THE POET; and his great friend, Andre Salmon!

Oddly? Here in Piacenza....I ALSO have a great friend. His name is Andreas. We call him Torna (pronounced: TUNA!).
Why is he called Tuna? -because he's a BIG guy with a GRANDE heart! And? You mess with ME? HE will TUNE you.
(Old rockstars NEED protection)

(Ossie Osborne:) "Dave, what are you trying to say, man?"

It's ALL "tempo", Ossie. And you know it!
(I figure you've figured this piece out...by now)
And YES! WE ARE the People.

Salmon? Poor old (fish) Salmon gets born/spawned, fights his way down the brook...to the rushing river...and all things being equal, and the "creek don't rise" (?), he makes it to the sea.
And there? To swim and bask in the 7 seas till...one day, ailing but knowing his time has come...returns to thee place of birth, like DAVE, in Piacenza, full knowing....Time has won.

"GOTCH'A SUM TICK-TOCK!"

And - relax! - No reservations needed.


c 2011/davedelacroix/lord borgo/whimsical in Piacenza/Italy of course/Christmas (again!)

OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix: Take 21: 22 & Eyes of Blue

Take 21: Twenty-two & Eyes of Blue

(Whilst cleaning up my desk/found this piece/should'a posted it last Summer/OOPS!/also? On SOME subjects? Ya gotta stand up and be counted...of which I feel it my duty...to do.)

A letter to my dear friend Eva:

Dear Sweetie-pie, my unique adventure continues: Hotel Dave/Casa di Amici, Piacenza, Italy, South of Switzerland where they make the Cuckoo Clocks...and hoard zillions of gold bullion stolen from Jewish and displaced people back in the old days.
Nice mountains, though. At the end of Summer the Swiss Shepherds (with their cows) parade from up on high and march down the mountain roads into the lower valleys and so into towns; Interlaken; places like that.

It's a monotonous, though quite splendid affair. Huge heffers (cows, I guess) dangle HUGE Cow bells around their necks that go: "Clank-a, clank-a, CLANK!" with every stride they make. (Hemmingway probably wrote about it, someplace) And the traffic must give way. The Swiss cops "police" the whole affair. The Shepherds? Not one of them over 25 years old! -they all wear "Kaftan" shirts worthy of ANY Grateful Dead concert gathering...and on the whole, appear quite joyous and pacific.

.....Perhaps the reality SHOULD be where the cows wear huge credit cards (Amex, Visa, Dinner's Club) from their satiated, sagging throats; the Shepherds? Pin striped Armani suits, Gucci shoes, Turnbull & Asser shirts/throw in some 10 gallon Texas Stetson hats, why don't cha?

I, of course, do NOT begrudge anyone's lot in life, for richer or for poorer, nor blame the children for the sins of their fathers. There are many beautiful people in the Alpine region... But I sure would like to crack open the vaults of some of those banks in Zurich and, if not run off with all the cash, leastways? -get a "gander" at some of their Accounting books! -that is, IF they, like 9MILLION people's lives...haven't been sent up in flames!...?

A big "Hi!" to your brother Max! Very BIG HUGS (and do it!) to your pappa, Reiner: He's "mein bruder". Salute to Count Axel von Phad who I often think of and whose friendship I cherish. Your Mother? Tell Gabi I will hug  - Big Time! - when next we meet! -dave

PS: Come visit.
PPS: Brings lots of Jakordia cigarette papers because DOWN HERE, in Italy - South of Switzerland - they cost the Earth!...:)


c 2011/davedelacroix/lord borgo/piacenza/italy/yup! -South of u know where: cuckoo! -cuckoo!...:)

OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Take 20: The "DOH!" Identity!

Take 20: The "DOH!" Identity!

(An idea for a potentially MEGA-blockbuster movie with a Positive outlook!)

...Starring? LORD BORGO
(Kung Fu Anglo Saxon dude)

...One day?... OK. One day...Lord Borgo wakes up with NO memory, but? -the secret Micro-chip he discovers - whilst surrepticiously wiping his anus DOES in fact have a Bank of America credit card code - credit limit: $500 - inscribed, the PIN number, tattooed on the left side of his "test-tackles"!

So; instead of zooming off to Switzerland or Monte Carlo to connect with some hi-tech bank where they finger print you/anal laser beam-I.D. confirmations...Lord Borgo goes to the nearest ATM/Geldomat... and punches in the numbers!

AHAH!
(No dice)
Apparently, Lord Borgo (before the Alhzeimers kicked in) was something of a Party-Boy!

....At which point - in this potententially MEGA-blockbuster movie (with a positive outlook) Lord Borgo & the STORY of "The DOH! Identity" continues.....!
(Watch this space!)

In the NEXT installment of "The DOH! Identity"...Lord Borgo invents "something" close to a Micro-wave (he sets his kitchen on fire), enjoys Morretti - Italian - beer, chain smokes (a lot) and TRIES to discover just which college he actually went to back in the 1970's!!!!!....

c 2011/dave delacroix/hollywood? U steal this concept? I will piss in your soup!!!!!/piacenza/italy/any contract should include an expensive dental plan/& purleeze get that tattoo surgically removed from my "test-tackle"-at YOUR expense!

OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Take 19: Come-Uppence!

Take 19:  Come-Uppence!

(for folks who ARE loyally following this book/blog: a Christmas carol...)

Artemis Blagovich-Smith (my own personal Stalker) having recently (see earlier blog-posts) married the "belladonna" of Piacenza,  the beautiful (bust-wise: full 10 score) Lenore...just got back from his 2 week honeymoon SPENT, I am informed, at his new "mother-in-law's" shanty house on the "via Roma", somewhere near the railway station...and is full of banter...and finds ME busking for "small change" on the  Corso Vittorio Emmanuelle II, the town's main pedestrian drag.

I try to get rid of him as the Civic Code here (in Piacenza) only allows for 30 minutes of playing "Good Golly Miss Molly!" so as not to piss off the shop keepers, residents and the tenants who inhabit the upper "pianos" (levels) of every business hereabouts.

However. All is in vain. And he?  (Artemis Blagovich-Smith) rails me with his usual grotesque & pornographic diatribe...regarding his wedding night nuptials...which include the repetitive expression of "double penetration"  (apparently his "Best Man" shared the "love nest") and again;  apparently, his ONLY romantic "panting" - to belladonna Lenore - consisted of: "Gimme some Dopamine, Baby!"

(Again) HOWEVER! -I glean from his jabber that this particular "Union of Love"  might be "On The Rocks!" -to quote old Poet-Bro, Sebastian Barker.

Il Belladonna Lenore (and Artemis's "Best Man") having buzzed off together to Turin (Torino); "To go see the Shroud?"...

Anyways; I'm already giving up on making a dime, busking on the Corso Vittorio Emanuele II. It's cold and business is "lento". ( Molasses, baby!)  So wishing Artemis "Buono fortuna!" I make to skip off to the Circolo Recreativo (my private drinking club) to go get a "buzz" and chuckle the night away.

"I am the most BEAUTIFUL Man in the World, Dave!" -he hollers after me.

"You bet!" (Johnny Depp!) I laugh back.

Like  a "Magnificent Amberson", Artemis Blagovich-Smith looks like he finally got his "come-uppence"...and? -quite naturally, at such a point in people's lives;
there is no-one around to care.


c 2011/davedelacroix/lord borgo/piacenza/italy/a Christmas carol

OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix/Take 18: October Song

 Take 18:   October Song

...As the forever, chirpy,  (USA) Comedienne "Mrs Hughes" points out... on the subject of getting, er...old, older, /menopause?... Her "hot flashes" are sooo bad she thinks SHE is personally responsible for Global Warming/THAT, and the fact, that Al Gore has been stalking her since last Christmas... So TOO from the Male gender point-of-view.....!

Your memory? (Where was I?)
Oh, yes. Your memory goes. No-one actually knows just where to.
(the Alien lunch box?)
...Forget about people's Names. If it's a Guy? - "Hey, buddy!"
A Girl? - "Hi, Sweetie-pie!"
(even if it's your Mother)
Your finger & toe nails assume you're already dead and go into growth Over-drive!
Teeth continue to rot (or disappear). Hair? (Ha-ha!) If you still have some (around your Dick) turns grey and (like Rats abandoning the sinking ship) continue to FLEE with every grooming; speaking of which? -"said Member" is also a long lost friend and a distant visual, er...cousin.
...You have to do a "crunch" (kneel down), stretch a very long arm, scale and traverse that abdominal mountain - the result of  "mucho" brewskies - just to LOCATE the little fucker!
The only time HE/IT really wants to say "Hello!" is 5 times a night whilst you are trying to get some "shut-eye"...due to your "enlarged" prostate
As for the REST of your miserable Life?... Like meeting Facebook friends in person? HE/IT doesn't want to know ya!
"Send me an E-Mail!" he says.
"Oh!" I reply. "So it's like that!?"
"Johnny Depp!" (You bet!)

And there's a POINT to this "October Song".... And I DID write it down somewhere...

I just CAN'T remember where I.....


c 2011/dave delacroix/lord borgo/piacenza/frickin xmas/italy/OVID in exile

OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix: Take 18: Red Hot Chilli Peppers

Take 18: Red Hot Chilli Peppers


"...Do not go gently..." into THIS good Soup, for -BEHOLD! (Lord Borgo speaking) I have discovered - to the tune of: "All by Myself" - one of thee greatest potable products known to Man, courtesy of EYE-OH, the Arabian dude at my neighbourhood "Mescellania" (arab-kosher butcher/veg market), a spit from the Basilica St Sepulcro, Piacenza, Italy.
It's called HARISA: distilled (?) Tunisian hot red peppers (pulp) who markets it for 2 euros a'pop (in a jar) which makes ANY Curry "worthy", and any "worthy" into a Curry; least ways? -a Versuvio of a Chilli!

Let's hear what the Critics have to say:

CHRISTOPER WALKEN: "Well, ya kne-ow?" -corpse-like, "It's like; ya kne-ow?"

BRISKET & EBERT: "One and a Half thumbs UP!"

DONALD TRUMP: "It's fired! YOU'RE FIRED! I'm gonna buy shares!"

JOHNNY DEPP: (having tasted said product) "I think I need a new tattoo."

NICK NOLTE:  "AAAWWWW GODDAMMIT!" and then, as an after-thought: "AAAWWWW GODDAMMIT!"

AL  PACINO:  (re. the spice:) "Welcome to my leetle friend!... PWAH!!!!"

ROBERT de NIRO:  (positively glowing after having tasted said product:) "U lookin at ME!!? U lookin at ME?!!"

BARBARA STREISAND: (Sorry Babs. We don't have enough blog space!)

DAVID LETTERMAN: (Sorry Dave. Same thing. Talk to Babs.)

ANTHONY  "Tony"  BOUDAIN: "Once again!? It was like my HEAD exploded into FLAMES!?"

THE DALAI LAMA: "Almost as good as a FREE TIBET!....Where I once had a job!"

OSAMA BIN LARDEN: ......

...And the credits go on.


c 2011/davedelacroix/lord borgo/piacenza/italy/chowing on down

OUR MAN in EUROPE/dave delacroix: (Piacenza) Take 17: Barney Fife International! (The B.F.I.)

Take 17: Barney Fife International!  (The B.F.I)


I am  able to report that in the "city" of Piacenza, Italy, of course, there are 5 flavors of "Barney Fifes."

The big shots? The CARRABINERI who dress like Napoleon (Bonaparte), least ways, his Imperial Guard, in all their uniform splendor.
And, in fact? -splendid they look!

Next? The POLEZI. Very Gestapo. THEY, I guess, get to clean up ( any criminal mess) when the CARRABINERI have "told you off for pee-ing on ancient statues" and are busy filing triplet reports.
(to who?)

Then there's the "Citta" (city) cops (more storm troopers)...who if no-one is looking (the most honest of the lot!) will just kick your Ass for being a public nuisance.
(Jeeze, folks! I've seen it a million times!)

There then follows an ARMY of bureaucrats, Civic cops, Public Utility cops...and ALL of them (including the CARRABINERI), so I'm led to believe, are only allowed ONE actual bullet...which they must keep in their uniform/vest pocket...in case of emergencies:
                                                                            Mad Monks!
                                                                            Nun Agitators!
                                                                            Pilgrim Panderers!
                                                                            Rampant Paedophile Priests
being the latest (DOH!) social phenomena!

Belligerent American tourists, of course? No big deal. When you go on Safari - with ONE bullet - you DONT shoot the blessed Zebra. You're actually after a rhino, an elephant, or a lion!
 A kick in the ass? You behave and go on your way.

But back to the (local) cops.

The pistols they (the cops, hopefully not YOU)...they wear, incidentally, are standard Glock 9mm's which, in the words of Clint Eastwood (sorta-kinda) can/will "blow your head CLEAN OFF!" -which, however, comes with thee adviso (from the local cop):

(In Italian, for gods sake!): "Just gimme a MO, dude, whilst I load the frickin bullet!"....adding; "Meantime? My colleagues will beat the shit outta ya; though, regarding the ensuing blood on your clothes?...My Uncle Giuseppe has a Dry Cleaning business and will take care of your laundry at a discount price; just mention my name!..."



c 2011/davedelacroix/under house arrest with a case of Peroni beer/piacenza/vive italia!

(Piacenza) Take (sweet) 16: Through the Looking Glass

Take 16: Through the (brewski) looking glass

(dedicato: Steve Mross)


I have, in respect to my on-going situation (!) taken the strong/direct response/philosophy (other-wise known as Dr Phil) decided that despite all my cares and woes...the World actually does infact look better thru the bottom of a glass;
6 beers or a bottle of decent vino.

I have consulted with Aristotle, Socrates, Plato (his cousin), Plautius, even Tacitus! -and Cicero, god bless him; all quite dead, but they, nevertheless, fail to inform more than I know, nor inspire...
 ....Me
to require
that WE
should become
beguiled;
...that is? -with the collective Wisdom of the World.

If you want?...
I AM
at sea. Which
(all things being equal/unlikely/and "the creek dont rise")
is probably, Mucker!
-where were are ALL meant TO BE.

....Funny ol' World.... That girl, a palazzo or two, down here on the via Campagna?

I STILL can't get into her pants!
...And shame on me.


c 2011/davedelacroix/in prep for fri-sat local gigs/missing tommy & MAXINES/piacenza, Italy

(Piacenza) Take 15: Lifestyles of the Frizzante & Famous

Take:  15:  Lifestyles of the Frizzante & Famous


Well? (Here in Italia) Everyone gets up at some un-godly hour, like: 6, 7 or 8 in the morning... and "CIAO, BELLO's!!!", no doubt energized by 1/2 a dozen "Espresso's".

Oscar Wilde, incidentally, on the subject of rural English people, (you can) apply to the Italian/Piacenza community, (he: Oscar,) once pronounced:- "They arise too early because they have too much to do...and go to SLEEP too early, because they have nothing (to read?) to think about."
(Visit...and decide for yourselves)
Leastways, in Winter.

.....I'm TRYING here, to "fit in". ( Like OVID in exile) It's gonna take a coupl'a years, but, "oy yea!, oy yea!" -it'll happen.

So. Mornings? (Mattinas) are "normale", all a-bustle...until about 1.30pm when EVERYBODY goes to lunch, closes shop/businesses and gives YOU - the stranger - the "Royal finger!"....until about 3.30pm, and then ALL is - socially/commercially - resumed: "Ciao, bello!"

Around 7.30pm, "Things-a change." It's "knock-off " time. Go meet your pals. The local floosie. Suck on Campari & soda, vinos, birras or smoke a "fattie" (in your crib) & listen to your "vecchio" LPS; "Little Tony's" Greatest (?) Hits...or Gianni Nannini.

Bar scene? Excepting some notable venues that DO host live music and - WILL - stay open around the clock/until you leave... DUDE!? -everyone (by 11.00pm) , leastways-week-days, has gone to bed.

David Bowie once asked: "Is there Life on Mars?"
Dammit, Big D. We're STILL out to lunch on that one...


c 2011/davedelacroix/mulling on mars/with a 12 pack of Peroni Italiano beer/piacenza/italia/with the tombstone blues.

(Piacenza) Take: 14: ...for Cindy Bacon; In Memorium

Take 14: ...for Cindy Bacon: In Memorium

Jesus, girl! I feel like shit!
My bills are  ALL off the scale;
I got bar-tabs,
a potential assignation with Dr Mengele: the Dentist,
the TAX MAN is sniffing:
-probably on my trail;
... the weather, quite naturally,
in the river Po valley...during Winter -
really sucks!

To cap it all?
I just heard. You have passed away.

NOT FUNNY.

In your honour? -I am drinking a vino-rossi; Barbera-frizzante.
THIS stuff, mia amica? -you would like.
But I must drink it alone.
Alone, I say,
but knowing MANY compradres enjoin me in my grief.

Who will remember your golden blonde hair?
Who, giving a thought, to your Swallows-flight promise?
Who, thoughtless, but now with great despair?

It's "the leaving", doll.
Carole, Sergei, I  and ALL your Soldiers;
We have lost our Queen.
And so we bid farewell....and
solemnly grieve.

c 2011/dave

(Piacenza) Take 13: Sunset Boulevard

Take 13:  Sunset Boulevard


In this life of "Show-biz", entertaining,  (always writing)..
& indulging in ALL the vices of Rock & Roll...
on a less than an ARENA show scale -
and happier for it/"Small is beautiful" -
...and in my travels...
where in each new town I was/am, always considered,
 by the local-yokels, "the New guy",
much to my chagrin;
my past prestige
amongst these perpetual Philistines
meaning nothing:
these Philistine-Rock & Roll "wannanbees",
today,
having ALL become Lawyers,
Journalists
or Caretakers of the Public Convenience;
I, nevertheless, once did swim down a tributory of humanity
...and met a "tribute" Dude.
 (Yikes!...The Horror! The Horror!)

Not a "Tribute" BAND, but a Tribute Dude.
(Y'all getting this?)

This particular fella?
a John Denver look/sound-a-like,
greeting everyoneone with a "joi de vie",
nevertheless aging, but still on the ball,
who could/can sing "Rocky Mountain High"
or "Annie's Song" at the drop of a hat,
and IN these United States of America
is actually celebrated
for his duplicity!

(Hamlet): "When do we get to laugh? Or for that matter, the opposite?"

(Ophelia): "Shaddup and count the frickin money..... ya prick!"


Introducing: (Ozzie Osboune):

"Dave? What are you trying to say, man!?"


......Many years ago
(actually, last wednesday)
I had the honour of meeting William Forsythe.
A Hollywood Thespian.
He's a fine man.Same age as me:
21.
And I adore his dynamic, no less his acting skills.
Together, after a night of revelry in the Hollywood hills,
(last Wednesday)
satiated with all that Los Angelos/Angeleeze could offer,
we retired to a fellow Thespian's mansion,
lush with surrounding Palms,
the "de rigeue" flood-lit swimming pool and adjacent Cabanna,
fully stocked,
with which even a country like Eritrea
could forget it's troubles... (yawning)...

...the point being?
William (Forsythe)
- last Wednesday
- asked me...would I like to write songs,
re. a film project he had in mind
about THE STORY OF ELVIS?

....to which, for the life of me:
I don't recall,
I replied: "No."

(Y'all getting this?)


c 2011/daveedelacroix/lord borgo/got beer, got smokes/gotta pot roast for sunday/pissey weather/piacenza/italia

(Piacenza) Take 12: (12? -its such a funny age!) : NO MORE RICE KRISPIES!

Take 12: No more Rice Krispies

(a letter)

My dearest Paolo:  its 4 a.m. and am thunderously struck down with a "severe chill".
(pause).....
Outside of having Oscar Wilde who, incidentally, is the best room-mate any Writer can ever have...I will have to fore-go tomorrow's - actually,tonight's - banquet at the restaurant "Piano Terra"  in honour of Stefano's birthday and hope, in the slim chance of that Moroccan flower vendor popping by...I will forward a bouquet as a poor substitute.

Ill health (malatti) alas, is a pesky thing. It's visitations can be counted upon from time to time....and, at present: "ASHOO!"...it has come to stay.

Still? Am assured that Stefano (birthday boy), Sarah, U, Maxi, Alicia, Gigi, Francesca etal. will be in epicurean wonderland and have a jolly good time! And? I DO hope to see you all - on my recovery - at my "piccolini concertinis", friday at LADY BAR, Saturday at BAR INSOMNIA and Domenica (sunday) at BAR LUPIN!

Meantime? I leave you with a rather throaty version of (the Simpsons) CRUSTY THE CLOWN singing, to the tune of "Santa Lucia":  (Ahem!) "No more Rice Krispies!"

"ASHOO!!!!!"


c 2011/davedelacroix/lord borgo/am'a connected!/piacenza/italia

(Piacenza) Take 11: Mrs Robinson

Take 11:   Mrs Robinson

Lucretius, like Dr Johnson, was - as always -  correct...especially in his poem/exposition on Death....which...in point?...he wrote;

(...though a trifle long winded:)

(on the subject of Death?)

"Basically? -dont worry about it!"

An in THIS matter? -regarding our collective Fate? -perhaps we are ALL Communists?
So enjoy the Gig.

The bright side?

NO Dentists.

(Ahem!) ....I remember sitting at that big "whooped-dee-do!" in Holly-"what-sits-place", where the honoured guest, a certain "Gerontian", Jack Nicholson, was being feted for inspiring WE meer mortals to continue working like Slaves in the factory, coal mines & the veritable Super-market.
(of Life!)

The star, guest speaker, was one Dustin Hoffman...who -  like "Jack" -  had also inspired many a young Bravoe to crash a wedding party...but instead of stealing off with the bride-to-be, ran off with the bride-to-be's Mother-in-law who, apparently, always go under the psuedonym of "Mrs Robinson"....!?

(Where was I?)

Will some-one PUR-LEEZE tell the COEN BROTHERS that I actually exist....or, Johnny Depp, for that matter? (!)...and that ANY Film-script Contract should include a Dental plan?



c 2011/davedelacroix/hollywood fricks dont steal my ideas or dee devil is comin to get ya!/Piacenza

(Piacenza) Take (Number) 10: Unforgiven

Take 10:   Unforgiven

"Theres NO crying in Baseball!" -everyone knows that; unless, alone, in the locker room, having failed to hit that critical Home Run, theres no-one there to look into your eyes.

There was a time...when a free keg of beer would be provide for the after-game celebration OR ruination with which to drowned your sorrows.
These days? -Zero. Not counting the "franchaise" asshole waiting in the corridor for your autograph, casually yakking with the pensive dude who wants to sell you some "ludes".

In the unforgetable, forever haunting "grand-daddy" of ALL Western movies, Clint Eastwoods: "Unforgiven".... flamboyent English Dave... plays with emotional fire (in the form of/with) Little Bill... and is severely punished for his frivilous humanity. Yet it is clear. He DOES know Love or IS in touch with real emotions.
His nemisis, Little Bill? -sharing NO such elements of the human spirit; nevertheless, he too, finally succumbs to a flailing sense of love ("I was building my house"), too little, too late....at the hands of the grim reaper in the shape of Clint Eastwood.
He is executed.

Too right, my friends! There IS no crying in Baseball.
I think I,ll pour myself a Scotch!


c 2011/dec/dave delacroix/Lord Borgo/Piacenza/on the way to the "super-mercato to by some Morretti/Sunday, yup! -bloody foggy Sunday.