Our Man in Europe....MEXICO...dave delacroix...The CANCUN DIARIES, No. 6: Happy Xmas Ingmar Bergman!
IS THERE ANY BEER LEFT U MORONS!!!...So goes that Old sing-a-round the JOANNA XMAS-whoosit song. Or rustle up Old Joe to Fuck Grandma. Righteous! Old Gal-s last chance at JOY! Every lady gets there somehow-some time-way! And Old BOGIE., lost in his OWN retribution like a Dickensian Chapter. Sold Tiny Tim to White-Slavers in his Youth. Still ruminating. Didn-t get the right price. Pisses him OFF, pronounced British -ORF, to THIS day. No accounting for INTEREST. Monetarism, Intellectualism, Existentialism, Prosphetics, a Cerebral transplant and-or ALL the DICKS, man or Woman who wished they-d met or HAD a Route 66...back in their day... on the back seat of a Corvette-55, some nirvana. No Selfie could explain.
On the whoosit day of Xmas YOU can say.... I almost died! U can DIE. It-s OK. Twix heaven and Terra-firma. Like tryin to find a JACCO-TAXI in Cancun-Mexico...normally, like fleas, can-t wave Em off. And THERE I WAS...back in Sedentary-School - sans JIM MORRISON - with backpack, recyclaboolie Market bags... loaded with KIT-Katz-Ice cream Lollipops, bottles of CAB SAUV, MERLOT, a discreet bottle of Smirnoff. And shufflin, albeit temporary....a HAMLET moment...my mortal coil. U bin there! Yup. A GIG needing oiling. Striving for fatal results! And SEASONAL REGRETS, quite worthless. So gimmie a SMOKE and I-ll tell U bout LASSIE like a Love-s Historian re-writing Yesterday and ALL the Songs we may yet compose or devour as we DO in our bleak endeavour.
c.2020, davedelacroix. Casa Yalahan. Cancun-Mexico.
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