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
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