Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Alongside the swimming pool...."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Alongside the Simming Pool!"

...ALONGSIDE THE SWIMMING POOL, on the patio where sloe-eyed Lobsters R never ever-EVER expecting to be boiled-alive, a 'la Christoper Isherwood's "The Berlin Diaries", RE: NAZI-PARTY (?) victims, Jews, Homosexuals, Gypsys or anyone resistant to GOOSE-STEPPING into an "Uber-Mensch" demi-monde-paradise?...

...where BOOKS R burnt & a fanatic Ideology/THEOLOGY (Present day ISLAM!) over rules all common sense in the name of some Icon, some man in the sky, his head covered, a robe or his babe in a HIJAB hardly likely to be attired for inter-planetary travel? (No Scriptures/Quran mention an airport Wheelie-Bag?)

Alongside the swimming pool in an illusory, David Hockney-painting blue, a fake gaiety, a colorized "Film Noir", images, symbols, a 'la SWATIKAS, history repeats it reptilian BOOGALOO! No-one believes it's coming. No one believes it can come down to U? (A Holocaust!!!?)

And the DEVIL makes work for retarded, idle hands, The BERLIN DIARIES, a hungry MOB'S hysteria, that curdle of social hysteria which, to this day, we fail to arrest or understand. The Middle East SEWER of Hate, 7 tribes (a Cumorah) of Hatfields & McCoy's, never to be at peace less a Pied Piper takes all their indoctrinated Kids away?

Alongside the swimming pool, on the patio, under tropic sun, remotely un-comprehending that RE-SURGENT FORCE of Medievalism despite benevolent great Muslim Matriarchs, Imans, Rabbis, Buddas, Priests who exhibit, preach harmony, yet now bland Islamic fanatics, VIRAL, groom, rape & assault our Western Christian Children!?

Alongside the swimming pool to bloody, to usurp then drain it dry where apathy, personal comfort, UN-caring prevails; is it NO WONDER we allow Tomorrows new TERROR to - historically - periodically reign? But, as with Nazis, Tamburlaine, Genghis Kan, Muslim invaders: JUSTICE for your inflicted INSANITY: The GUILLOTINE certainly awaits!

(TICK-TOCK! TICK-TOCK!) We Westerners can put up with a lot of CRAP! But U should know...(We don't take no Prisoners!). 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Man who watched the Trains go by.: (A'pres novel by George Simenon.)

 Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Man who watched the Trains go by." (A'pres the Novel by French Writer, George Simenon.)

(Folkie tune:) "The Man who watched the Trains go by."

...I AIN'T TRAVELLING ANYMORE. I ain't a-roaming anymore. The TRAIN (See previous Blogpost) has left the Station; there's nobody on board? I ain't going nowhere, happily, for once & all

I ain't falling in Love again. I ain't the Man U'd ever want. My heart isn't broken, but my Soul is plum worn out? Chancers R I'll never fall in love again. I was never the dude U think I am, gone to seed, mostly whisky-sedated is where I am. AMORE, sadly, arrivederci! (Don't invite me to your -College-Graduation - PROMS!!!)

...I don't regret the Life I've chosen & I couldn't give a damned what people think? -No regrets, but that's not true, but REGRETS R worthless, a lock of hair, a mirror's reflective stare never, & U NEVER see yourself, YOUR actual U? But IF U do? Go buy a lottery ticket!

...I watch the Night Trains pass me by. A train-carriage-window-lit-chequer-board in transit, flying by. I'm now the Man who watches the Trains go by as our dreams, launched into an Icarian sky, unfailing, to crash on down. I watch the Night Trains pass me by...But still think of, there's always SOMEBODY, a "U!"?

I ain't DYING anymore. No-way JOSE! I ain't dying anymore! If LIVING is DYING, I'll leave it up to U. I survived MY Wars but know no Peace, so kick me to the sidewalk; And if U like I''ll make GOD my PEACE but THIS Old Rockstar ain't travelling anymore. AND BADDABOOM!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "THIS Train!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "THIS Train!" (For Music Video, see post's footnotes.)

...THIS TRAIN don't carry no passengers, this train! This Train don't carry no passengers, this train? This Train don't carry no passengers/but it might take U to the Other Side; this train don't carry no passengers: This Train!

(A well-a-well a well, -a-well-a well-a well!)

This Train don't need your sympathy, THIS Train! This train don't need your sympathy, this train? This Train don't need your sympathy, but it might fly U to the other Side? This train don't need your sympathy, this train.

(A well-a-well-a well: A ZAK-ZAK-ZAK!!!)

This Train don't carry no passengers, this Train. This Train don't carry no passengers, this Train? This Train don't carry no passengers; but it might fly U to the Other Side, this Train don't carry no passengers, this Train...

(Singing in French:) "C'mon sa'va et moi? C'mon sa'va c'est soir? C'mon sa'va, Em moi-dans le noir?" -This train don't carry no passengers, the Train:

(A well-a-well-a-well/A well-a well-a well!).

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. /This SONG posted/published on UTUBE-Music Video, specifically, the one with photo of a New Orleans tram car. Dave Delacroix. Enjoy!

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The O.A.Ps!" (U.K. Old age Pensioners.)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The O.A. P's!" (U.K. Old Age Pensioners.)

(dedicato: fellow youngish-old dudes, Marc Pierson, Steve Johnson, Gordon Westeran & all the Lads & Lasses who have, in their time saved/served "Old Blighty".)

"The O.A. P's! (England's Old Aged Pensioners!)

"FREEZE BUDDY!!! HANDS UP AGAINST THE WALL! (Search him Sgt. Smith/My aging Uncle/Check him-see if this Islamist Immigrant got some anti-cultural-curriculum Ducats!!!) "WE ARE THE O.A. Ps!!!"" Show him your Pensioners FREE BUS PASS, flash your cut-price dental work; Corporal Nalty. Don't take NO SHIT!" "Spread Em Buddy!!!" (DAD's ARMY/British last frontier!): WE STAGGER FOR NOBODY!!!

"The O.A.P.'s!"

.... It's not EASY to live (EXIST!) on 70 British Pounds/some change/Free Bus Pass (2026) PER WEEK let alone for U.K. Pensioners with NO option for them to go Skiing (sans N.H.S. orthopedic designer Skies) in Switzerland or enjoy a flutter in a Monte Carlo Casino... attired in last year's moth-eaten tuxedo, rather, their best MOSS-BROS, off the peg 2 piece worsted suit? (My name's BOND?)

And it's pretty (remote) hard to spring/pay for, for a weekend with your Grand-Kids in Bridlington, Brighton, Margate or Scarborough-Fair not to mention to pay/fix your leaking roof? And cutting out Coupons, bargain sales, worried about your daughter who just came home back to stay, divorcing that clown she married who U didn't much like anyway?

It's a TAD difficult having paid a LIFETIME of TAXES so that the Royal Navy can build a new AIRCRAFT CARRIER, militarily out of date/space-age DRONES can knock it out? Britania RULES the waves, yet we veterans R now all at adrift? And in the Land of Hope & Glory, just fooled & led into a Lee? Just WHO is at the HELM of, what was once, our beloved Country?

"SHIP AHOY!!!" (Crow's Nest!) -The O.A.P. crew down here in the BILGE who cannot afford basic needs; food, heating, RENT, the necessities of English Life! "SHIP AHOY!!!" Rudderless! WE-SONS-OF-A-GUN! Who, like the UNKNOWN SOLDIER sacrificed, ignored, put in the shadows, a CULTURAL SHAME, we "paid-up" old folks, who linger until the day we die....

.... But still in our hearts/from Sheffield School Assembly we still sing: "ONWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS, marching AS to War! With the Cross of Jesus, going on before!"

c. June, 2026. D-DAY!!! Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Space Cadets!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Space Cadets!"

.... EVERYONE KNOWS IT'S WINDY/NOWHERE, the "Road to Rivergaro" (See ancient Blogpost), a BLUE MOON? I saw U on a sunbeam, a SICILIAN road, your Virginity was opulent, your brothers all carried Rifles? I hid amongst the grape vines & recited verses of DANTE with all my Soul, "SEDUCTION et ABANDAMATO, guilty, but what could my inner nature DO?

.... And after MONTHS we had a Child. 

Both of our Families dis-own our Marital feast, our magic, that epiphany of LOVE. what have we done? But fell in love? Uncle Antonio, sharpening a handy Stiletto grumbles-silencio, Pappa is OUTRAGED, Mamma still is protective, your 3 sisters give me/U the EVIL EYE...like Space Cadets...old, casual boyfriends don't look U in the eye. And the newly installed (Immigration ISLAM Green-Light Scum who now clutter our streets?) clearly, on a MUSLIM whim, all prepped to stone U to death?

The Town's average (remember, U R just an un-married pregnant, late teenage GIRL), in a community of - latter-day WOODSTOCK/LOVE & PEACE/1969 - observance-resigned, yet in effect, a societal benign social-TUMOR of thought & surrounded by Social SPACE CADETS, old & young, attempting to (Huh?) right your wrong on every side?

Everyone KNOWS it's windy. If U feel like an outcast, a Refugee? Remember. Refugees VOTE with their feet. In a WORLD where we all Outsiders meet. FAR from Cultural Fascist/Space Cadets: Coffee on the pot. Tea by the kettle. Beer on ice. Whisky in the JARO. And warmth by the fire; far from the madding crowd! We roam the World to find a place where we can live, as a family and to live in our OWN "Private Idaho".

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. (Fictional story but Societal Poem,)

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Bell, Book & Candlestick! /"Wish U were here!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Bell Book & Candlestick! /Wish U were here!"

DO NOT GO GENTLY into that good BLOKE; God-knows what U. R. gonna contract, nor (Lads!) that DESIREE, a Scorpion (?) with TITS to sting your TEST-TACKLES, a potential death-toll knoll? -Half drunk & as HORNY as hell; who's zooming who in the pit of sexual desire?

...Reading by moonlight, bell, book & candle, a hollow cry, (I should-a known better!?) -that - eternal - soliloquy-RE-SURFACED which Spittals in your face; a Pilgrim's Progress, a tale un-told. Even Poet CHAUCER would be be-wildered by your tale, leastways censor or review his Joke-Sack!

There's only, sometimes Glory, there's only your Song of inner Songs. Like a perfect murder: What could go wrong? There's only our desires-mischief, a Pilgrim's way to wrack & ruin, to crush a Love's competitor, a tavern-brawl a 'la Kit Marlowe, Elizabethan Poet & Spy, dagger-stabbed into literary eternity?

(BANSHEE CRIES!!!)

It's only the Bell, the (Shakespearian) "ALARUM!" some Book to re-read (Raymond Chandler?) or a Candle to light your way? -That LAST SUPPER (Why not THE LAST BRUNCH?) U enter UP to heaven or hell, to the Devil or the Angels, their delight, and YOU, a dysfunctional Pied Piper who took away the Kids but caused a Societal night? The Black Plague or a blood red river Nile? Foresight like Genius can get U hung!

Do not go BENTLEY, DAIMLER or ROLLS-ROYCE into this good night, opt for a VW-Volkswagen, something inconspicuous. A Mimi-Cooper, a Citroen CV7, a Piccolino FIAT, better still just hitch-hike? Those taciturn Gods R apt to - like USA-Immigration Control Robots - more likely to BUST, MUGG, or frick U over at N.Y.C. Ellis Island, Freedom's last turnstile! There IS no Home of the Brave. As for the Land of the Free? -Keep dreaming.

DESTINY decrees it's no longer COOL to "wander lonely as a cloud" There's always spite, jealousy or some Islamist FANATIC to shoot U down. And NO Bell, Book or Candle to protect or redeem your Soul. Vacation Postcards are "passe"; nobody these days, even Internet texting posts/writes: "Wish U were here!"

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Song!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Song!"

I AM NOT THE MAN U think I am. I am not that Dude, tuxedoed, clean-cut & groomed. I am not the hero in your story. I am not some Court Fool nor your stooge.

I'm not the Man in your alphabet nor Captain of treasure-laden ship returning from overseas. That Conquistador died long ago; the El Dorado of my dreams.

I'm not the Man, the kid most likely to succeed nor school class clown, nor Rugby star, just a Man who comes home late at night & wonders where the past years sleep.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "Something Blue."

 Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "Something Blue."

...I DON'T know U from EVE, a Nemesis, friend or foe or some Banshee, Witch, a LAMIA who can strangle me in reptilian coils? ...WE, lonesome hearts-vulnerability, rudderless Souls in a storm a-sea? So, make it fresh, make it Cool or maybe, if U can: Just make it Blue.

...WE have travelled SOOO far in this hemisphere, blind-on-blind yet kisses sweet, UN-knowing "a 'la" destiny, a universal sweep? Almost lost in Society's vacuum, re-surfacing UP for air? We gulp down Oxygen pretending all is Hunky-Dory! (Who came up with that one/David Bowie?) Alas, BIG-D is no longer there. (Ashes to ashes!).

Yet a forlorn "HUZZAH!". Sometimes a yawn. An exigency! A yearning, (My Japanese Girl!) to make it fresh, make it Cool, hoping we make it Blue. Something fresh, something NEW, something Cool, but all the time wishing for something Blue.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "RAYBANS!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "RAYBANS!"

(dedicato: Johan Perez)

"Raybans."

...GOT MAH MOJO WORKING, got my ancient/misty RAYBANS (Sunglasses), got Em at the "Goodwill" store. Borrowed this tuxedo from Crooner, Steven St. James, my "winklepicker" hand-made Italian shoes, a gift from Horst, my Deutch-drummer, Hildesheim band? 

My Music Producer (Serbian/he doesn't like publicity), his Credit Card - on loan - is worth about half a Song. Alas, Hollywood, that insidious community, always anticipates you going wrong.

GOTTA DREAM, had a dream, not that U'd notice or about OUR tomorrows, about Me & You, or that KICK in my solar plexus, that tangle, & gotta FEAR, nothing is true. Was it ever?

Gotta Blue Moon in my sunset, gotta boulevard in my Soul; the only scrap of evidential existentialism that U ever, ever own?  A Bridal gown moth-eaten in your closet? There IS of course, in the WILD-WORLD that gridlock-kamikaze, a perpetual origami that butterflies, an exotic pest that never leaves U alone. Do we cease to BE?

HAMELT, confused dude, outshone by a Cigar brand. Keep that in mind.

Got my ragged Raybans -a-nose, a-dangling, an antique "pince-nez", a PROM Night, half-assed groomed from head to toe and WITH LUCK this new love of mine, never ending. (I must try to elicit her name without appearing to have forgotten it?)

Nobody's perfect. NOBODY BUT YOU in your smart-set/pristine RAYBANS (Sunglasses), the STUFF of past-perfect U never ever needs to know. S'why I'm "putting on the Ritz just this - long-since - last time. Get hung for a sheep as a lamb in this our world of pettiness, cheap-ass nickels & dimes. Ya just CAN'T sweat the "small stuff"; it's ALL "pretty-petite!"

O.K>!!! RAYBANS ON! (I got my MOJO working:) Show time!

c. Dave Delacroix. 2026.....DEAR POST READER? If U feel inclined U might post your name on the BLOG as a "Follower". No scam. All free. It'll make me look good/popular, I suppose. Thank U.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Midnight Swim."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Midnight Swim."

...IN THE MIDNIGHT SWIM, a splish-splash in the swimming pool, subterranean, no need for AIR, your head DUCKED UNDER and your locks feel like ROPE in need of shampoo; but your loins feel so free, in the midnight swim S-where U need to be.

In the midnight SWIM, there's no War or Peace, just the RINSING of Life's memories, the live & deceased, the latter may they R.I.P. And breaststroke or crawl, duck paddle, whatever it takes to get out of the deep end: One or the other, just don't drown.

In the midnight swim where your nothingness is ALL, U float, gazing up at the stars & lactate in your Wonder, a shattered yet benign MIRROR, reflecting the Man or Woman U thought U could have been; perhaps a Partner awaiting, poolside, with a bathrobe? A midnight swim. In a dark pool. Just a midnight swim.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacoix: "My Favorite VAMP!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "My Favorite VAMP!"

...WE LIVE IN HOPE, IN HOPE we live. as we strut for Truth & FRET our hour upon the Stage singing idiotic songs of sound & fury, of Love & Loss, of WAR but namely of Peace?

 -To rebound DEM slings & arrows of outrageous fortune, PUNCH-BACK! A defiant Sentinel, that KID in your Soul who said, "Not One step back!!!" Youthful songs, U forget & never remember, never get back? (fickle filter of memory?)

As for my Babee, the one who left me behind? -She was a Vamp, a Hollywood- Silk-dressed VAMP, a "Moon-over Sunset-Boulevard" LAMIA, who left me un-twined. AND I wish I could travel her ways; to slither across/within her Universe but somehow, I found it perverse? I never understood her ways.

We live in Hope; in hope we live but when emotional coastal tides recede U just know where it's going. My favorite Vamp. She'll sail across the sea & find some other prospect who (sad sap) probably looked just like me? 

(But IN this crazy World, what's a lonely Gal to DO!!!?) An Evening dress & a sparking Purse. That BLING of ENTRANCE, a "savoir-faire" & her signature - fake - diamond ring. What "House of Mirth" to make HOPE sing, in hope, in hope, where we all live.

As for my Babee, now aged, faded, in some "pensione", an Ille de la Cite/Paris, enjoying a block of Brie, a Vin de table-Rouge. An ancient - techno - C.D. player, no Internet, a frigid labium, but still a HUM in her songs & wondering how life could have been?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Battle of the Bands!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Battle of the Bands!"

...AS FOR THESE ORCHESTRA "cover bands" with intense-lunatic Baton-Dude--waving/arms akimbo, up & down, (surprised they don't execute summersaults!) or shoot (with blanks) the 1st Violinist or "mosh-pit" dive into the hood of the grand piano (screaming: STEINWAY or Death!) or post-gig get prosecuted for trying to sodomize the prettiest Celloist or the "petite-petite" virgins in the Woodwind section, male or female? Classical Orchestras must be rancid with incestuous sexuality?

As Marlene Deitrich sings: "Go see what the Boys in the back room will have & I'll have a drop of the same!"

Still, as we distill the kernel of Music's dynamic/composition in Time's test tube of infinity, yet Time marches on, generations of genius, come & gone; an Ode to Joy or a Saraband, Litz, Chopin, Satie kicked aside to the sidewalk, (too incidental); later, in Nature's wisdom, will periscope & expose the inimitable cacophony of Man's creativity. As now, a thousand Spirits presently reside in La Scala, the Paris Opera & London's Royal Albert Hall. But there will always BE a Vivaldi who peeks out & sneers: "I got ya Number!!!" Or a Paul McCartney who'll sink your gig with a Song like "Yesterday..." An oubliette. Like yesteryears "Battle of the Bands". 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Moonshine!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Moonshine!"

ARE YOU DEAD? DID U DIE? That feeling when there's no other place to go? Do U wither or 'shoot-up" some succulence, an extra-ordinary substance (Cocaine?) to excite your Soul, or did U weather the MOOD's storm, searching for a lighthouse in a raging seas moonless night?

Do U panic in fright in anticipation of Tomorrow's MIGHT; a living shipwreck afoul of shoals, reefs, jagged rocks & WRECKERS, daggers-drawn, awaiting on a Cornish ragged shore to tear the wreck-survivor's "living daylights" out of your Soul?

WHO survives the living horror, that dankness neath ALL we can conceive yet never know? A funeral pyre of rotting seaweed, pebbles, scallop shells? Are U dead, still? Did U die? Like a floating island in the stream or survive like flotsam by some foreign shore where Loves Moon no longer shines?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "I met my MILLION $ Baby at the 7-11!!!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "I met my Million $ Baby at the Five & Dime!"

...I MET MY MILLION $$$ BABY @ the (convenience store), the "7-11" on Ventura boulevard, L.A. or Rue de Madelaine, Paris, which is IN (not Texas) France? I was, either, which way, I was hitch-hiking of course, Guitar/clothes on my back, at a glance: no future? But "what the heck!?" 

-S-where I met my MILLION-DOLLAR BABY (there's been a few) at some desert Roadhouse, GAS/FOOD/MOTEL, a "film-noir" windswept $5.00 & dime. Lucky Dave, as long as I HAD led in my Pencil, guilty as charged, with a guitar, would (Deutsche-Poet) Reiner-Rilkes "Angels" deny me of my destiny? Catch-quick: A Song!?

I met my Million $ BABY at the FIVE & DIME. Cassis. Milan. Cologne. She was vivacious, pretty-pretty, with love-abandoned in the extra-economy size, that awesome YAW of emotion to usurp your soul, no access, no second thoughts? And THERE, U have it. A whirlwind of passion. They left me with a DIME to use next time.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The STARE!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The STARE!"

(Après Edvard Munch painting; The SCREAM.)

"The STARE!"

...ANYBODY STARED AT U LATELY? I hear it's "de riguer"/pedestrian-pastime in Mumbai-India? But do not despair, U R OK. No need to repair (whatever). Try to forget, REGRETS, no profit there, the closets in your mind, the past is past which U cannot unwind, those inner throngs that nightmare your sleep, future journeys in the Afterlife, destinations, assignations' which U cannot meet or greet, like Victory, or Logic snatched from a conception, the "lilies-in-the field" -SCYTHED to the root of our essential nothingness!

Do not despair. Do not try to repair. Like innate Marionettes we dangle in this universal, its abstract stare, and yes, I know. For Me & You: It's lonely out there. We'll crack a joke, fall in love (again) & mirror our forefather's plight. Yet UN-mirrored we R. Reflections-dazzle that shatter ...(fill in the blanks, kids)...and so, we "boogalgaloo" into this mood, sit still, be quiet & just stare. But wonder! STARE!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "PUTIN (Vladimir) putting on da RITZ!"

 Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "PUTIN on da RITZ!"

SONG: (Singing/Tea Room quartet playing après song, Putting on the Ritz.): 

Got no time, no place to go, no upwards, hit the TOPS, hey, look at Me? VLAD PUTIN on da RITZ.

Throw all threats, a tall high-rise, throw Em off, whose gonna care, no witnesses, (U weren't there!) I don't give a frick! I'm PUTIN at the Ritz!

...The old Russian STALIN Playbook is my Bible. I was a K.G.B. sneaky SPY to begin with?...

Dice with Me, U dice with death, don't hold your breath, I don't CARE, a 1.000-yard stare, don't U dare: I'm PUTIN-putting - watch out! - PUTIN on da Ritz!

...I may go down, in history, with Hitler, Genghis-Kan, or Tambaline, no timeline fixed, but I'm putting u IN MY GRIP.: COSSACKS-OUTLAWED!

(A-CHOO-CHOO-CHA-CHOO!)

...GOT NO PLACE TO GO, NO HEAVEN ABOVE, at THE top, DON'T PISS ME off!!!... (Fill in the blank?) PUTIN on da Ritz!

Now, got no place to go, no heaven above -I'm at the TOP! -PUTIN on da Ritz! (CHORUS): PUTIN on the ROCKS! Balalaikas-STING!!! -Putin on da Ritz!

c.2026: Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Entertaining Mr. Sloane!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Entertaining Mr. Sloane." (Après British 60's Playwright, JOE ORTON.)

"Entertaining Mister Sloane!" (An Origami for your Mind.)

HIDE & SEEK (a children's game/before the Internet), count to 100: I'm coming ready or not!  When ya MOM, busy, under her skirts ushered U outside & said "GO OUT & PLAY" -when "play" is what U did?

Or singing a Medieval protest song over a Queens/Royalties lavish spending, careless of civic responsibilities:  "London Bridge is falling down, London Bridge is falling down, my fair Lady!"

On a darker note (the Black Plague) singing: "Ring-a-ring a Roses, a pocket full of Poesies, Atishoo! Atishoo! -we All fall down."

Whilst HUMPTY-DUMPTY (the Grand Old Duke of York), he fell off the wall? And despite commanding 10,000 Men, all the Kings horses and all the Kings men could NOT put him back together again.

Are U going to Scarborough Fair? =Parsley, sage, rosemary & Tyme. Remember me to one who lives there; she once was a true love of mine.

It's not the leaving of Liverpool that GRIEVES me but me-darling when I think of thee! Whilst "the Stirling's in Sheffield on a Saturday Night": "There R few who face such hardships as We poor Grinders do."

So, YOU take the high road & I'll TAK the low road, but I'll be in Scotland before YA, but me & my true love will never meet again on the bonnie-bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.

It's a long way to Tipperary; it's a long way to go. (To that Geraldine I know?) Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square (with no G.P.S./"sans" bullet-proof vest/I'm a name on a WW1 town memorial) but My heart's right there!

...Goodbye Brendan & farewell Sean. Our time was short, our hopes-forlorn? But still I remember those days of gold, those green fields of France & the towns we loved so well & PETE'S gone back to Cavern Town.

And we'll all go together to pick wild mountain thyme, all across the blooming heather; will ye go Lassy-go?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "A Symphony of BLING!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Symphony of BLING!"

(...a composition beginning with an Overture followed by 3 Poetic Acts. U might want to ready some bread & cheese/some Vino; it's not a blogpost "quickie")

"A Symphony of BLING! - Overture:"

...HAVE U EVER BEEN lonely, but not for someone else? Have U ever been lonely, that person, your inner self?

Have U ever put a Conch Shell up against your ear & heard the Oceans waves... of that pounding heart wavering inside of your fear?

Have U ever sprung walking in Loves silver light and all of youth's mischief in which we delight? Send your Love to Tomorrow to keep that Love bright; have U ever been lonely for your Soul in the night.

"A Symphony of BLING! - ACT 1:"

...PRIDE IN POVERTY, POVERTY in Pride & just which GOD (the usual heavenly suspects/the Pope/Allah/Bhudia/ODIN) decides OR what galactic constellation predicts/forecasts your slide/demise? -A monster, a JU-JU MAN or VAMPIRE to suck SAP from your Nietzschean "will-to- power" that now languor's upon a tree branch, a COUGAR, too exasperated to paw or snarl?

Devils in the fog haunt your regrets, a Commerce-lost, a Love bereft of all passion, a reincarnation undiscovered, a Chrysalis abandoned, Societies predators ever ready to chip away at yesterday's dreams? And all the Kings horsemen & all the Kings Men could not put U back together again? (S'what I heard?) -GOSSIP can BE a merciless sword!

HOW goes your Night, your plight; do U DO or DIE? -Candles flicker. A cold wind blows & thematic, "Ou's sans les Neige, dan tan?" -OR that foreign country from which no-one returns? Do U HEADLONG RAM into Tomorrow's brightness or swerve off course into your own personal oblivion? (Existentialist nerves-of-steel R guilt-edge-stocks, I hear, these days?) Rimbaud's "a Season in Hell" is ever on stand-by for your Icarian descending?

"A Symphony of BLING! -Act 2:"

...I AM NOT A FOOL but a TOOL of fools; a Mariachi, a Minstrel to back-play Nostradamus's Prophecies. My ballads R the stuff of deep waters that can swallow a child-like mind, a Pied-Piper of Hamelin who can make barren your town, worse than the PLAGUE, your children-GONE! -inflicting a life-long bereavement a 'la the Mask of Red Death, to eradicate the tribal - generations of  - poison from the Middle East who feud to this day?

I am not a Fool, but a Tool of Fools. I am HAFIZ!  A pre-ISLAM Poet. A Court Jester, that "official Fool" who speaks TRUE whence Courtiers, Government Ministers (perhaps Angels too?) where they fear to tread; a commonplace "Goodnite", do we mere mortals actually RAGE against that living LIGHT until it's too late? (Your death is not in Babylon. Why should it be so? U can ride like the wind! Samara isn't going anywhere.)

I am not a Fool, yet a King of Folly, a Poet, a Songster, an "APP" (Internet?) who can "A.I." U into an artificial tomorrow where-in you SOUL upswings/vanishes or transforms into the IRIS of a Cyclops eye where-in all your yesterday's come home to repose. (It's kind of depressing, I know, Happy endings? If U get one, just holla, so's we know.)

A Symphony of BLING: Act 3:

...CAST AN EYE ON the boat's wake in which U sail, an oceanic trail soon to disappear like your Bellas, your taverns, that hullabaloo & all the aspirations, the merriment of Youth.

Cast an eye on the songs U sing, the tales, the stories, your spectacular BLING? Did HE who blinged U, or was it an afterthought, a lost diamond reset in a ring? Do tell!!! Your moment of Bling!?

Cast a lonely eye, a tale to be told: "Go tell the Spartans!" or some patriotic half-assed song? As for your EYE, can U still see...that Warrior, that wise man, that LOVER, happenstance, fortune/destiny harbored U into the lee.

A Symphony of BLING: ENCORE!

Have U ever been, but not for someone else? Have U ever been lonely for that person, your inner self? Have U ever placed a Conch Shell up upon your Ear & heard the Ocean's swell of that pounding heart inside your life-long fear?

Have U ever sprung walking in Love's silver light & all Youth's mischief in which we delight; send your love to Tomorrow to keep that light bright. ENCORE! Have U ever been lonely for the Soul of your Night...? A Symphony of Bling? A gift, that electric glint which sparkles in your eyes.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Whiter shade of Blue."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize-by Mexico/Dave Delacroix" "A Whiter shade of Blue."

MY OWN MOGLIDIANI PAINTING, with Chinese eyes, perpetual SMIRK, a Balalaika-background in the fog/mist, that Pharaonic Egyptian mascara-image that SCREWS into your mind? Worse still, as if you culled Love-in-paint, a Moglidiani, somebody, your girl or a picture of U? -MOGGY? He died aged 37.

THUS HANGS - MOGGIE PORTRAIT - a "selfie" of your mischief, your Past, long since at Societies, "Let's burn her at the stake?" -though no-one's quite guilty, nobody's quite a whiter shade of blue: Isolated! As if I wake up without U. I wake reverent in sandals. Sometimes I got no shoes? Nobody gonna ever wash my feet? Like a...

...Like a Modigliani, an oil painting on the wall, a canvas without a frame, a Concept-oblivious, a "SELFIE" un-constrained, exhibited/pinned like a butterfly & as for the weak-at-heart I may as well, artistically be hung for a (stolen) sheep as a lamb; mutton is mutton -U cook it long enough? Or U paste oil paint on a canvas?

Who's the MAN who sharpens the revolution Guillotine & who curdles the Witches' brew, 9x9, thrice by thrice, Lord Cawldwder, soon to be king, a bloodied legacy spurred on by the witch of witches, probably your wife? (Lady Macbeth?) That ZIG-ZAG-U or a whiter shade of blue? Or Fate? No-one gets not to glad-hand their doom?

It's a long way to Tipperary (Old WW.1 Song) & the cemetery of crosses of the dead, row on row? When all hope gone, yet a whiter shade of blue as I nod to my 2 striped-tiger cats? It's not my fault but we have no cat-treats today; it's just a whiter shade of blue. And as for Russki-Modigliani? Was he in fact a Bolshevik or Italian? I'll leave that up to U. 

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A BIGGER SPLASH!!!"

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "A Bigger Splash!"

(Après David Hochny's famous Painting/A Bigger Splash.)

"A Bigger Splash!"

...The MISFITS, THE CHILDREN playing in your garden whacking imagination to new heights or like imagined Dolphins in your swimming pool/SPLISH-SPLASH devour your twilight hour?

It's only the Lonely in their bleakest hour who perceives the universal angst of TIME, a multitude of bewigged lawyers who can ensure U Innocence is a Crime?

GO then to thy sticking post passed Ambition, Greed & Fear where-as your Soul burns on the Witches' Stake in that fading spectacle of your memory, as a Child; splish-splash! How did U become a Cow?

A RAGE unfinished. A dynamic screaming to unfold. A MISFIT. A CHILD, playing in your garden, whacking imagination, an exile from your cloud. A bigger splash in utero. PAINTED! A kiss without a smile.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Singapore Bling!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix Esquire: "Singapore Bling!"

...NEW YORK CITY (hitherto referred to as N.Y.C) KIDS can't make it thru - there IS no - silent night; SIRENS -SUPER-CRAPPIT-FRAG-A-LIPSTICK...in the super-economy package, wailing every 7 minutes/I counted! In N.Y.C. silence don't count! -The BRONX/BROOKLYN/QUEENS neighbors having an "anti-pasta" dispute, Romeo & Juliet down on the sidewalk (where the sidewalk ends), their CABBIE asking "Who's gonna pay the fare?" -Some prime location Panhandler always ready to change (your) any large $-bill? -Rupees, Shekels, 3-Bob Irish pound notes, no problem!

...Whilst MOMBASA (Kenya) kids stand & stare as some MASAAI-banditos (with a Junker) drive window smash into an INDU Jewelry store but their aging Sedan-doors, constrained by the zig-zag netting, metal security window fence? A smash & grab. What could go wrong? Trapped in their Junker/auto. The crowd gathers. The Mombasa COPS will show up IF U send them a private LIMO or free vouchers for Police uniform dry-cleaning?

Singapore-Sling! Shanghai-Bling! "A'la recherche" the songs we used to sing? -The N.Y.C. kids or the madding-crowd Mombasa-stare & every day we pretend WE R not there? There's THAT. And we let it go! A Shanghai-Bling, like a Singapore-sling. Gimmie a Whisky & Soda cause sometime times LIFE ain't what it OUGHTA!!!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Hi'Folks. If U have a mind to, U can sign on as a FOLLOWER on this BLOG. U don't necessarily have to read each POST; I ain't no Stalker; but Blog-wise it'll make me look good/semi-popular.  This is a FREE GIG. And thank U.

Our Man in Europe, now BELIZE, Dave Delacroix: "LITTLE-Old BI-POLAR ME!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Li'll old bi-polar Me."

(Singing:) Don't sing of your sorrows, Blues-TURRETZ-repartee.

Don't mull over your olden wine, don't "achoo!" when U sneeze? (Just snivel?)

Don't look for an Alibi, your collapsing facade, every time U wheeze!

...& ever guilty-as-charged? -Li'll old bi-polar Me.

I may get to shouting...for no reason at all? I may get U confounded

like in a U.K. football hooligan brawl?

U MAY get be-dazzled but mostly appalled when U witness -a-foot!

Li'll old bi-polar Me.

There's a Ballad here somewhere, some Angst-KAREN on patrol,

a someone unlikely, someone not quite whole? WE WING every morrow,

our yesterdays, all gone to seed? So, forgive me my friends> "Lill old bi-polar 

Me."

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man (SPY) in Europe. Now Belize. Dave Delacroix: "MY OWN PERSONAL FUNERAL/SELFIE!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/ Dave Delacroix: "My Own Personal Funeral-Selfie!".

(après Wordworth Poem, "I wondered/wandered as a white-fluffy-thingy in the sky..." & that POP SONG "Personal JESUS" /JOHNNY CASH VERSION).

"My Own Personal Funeral-SELFIE!"

...AT YOUR OWN PERSONAL FUNERERAL WERE U CONVEYED in a HEARST? Did U go BENTLY, DAIMLER, or did U swing "savoir-faire" on by, go ROLLS-ROYCE, or corpse-conveyed in a Porche-hatchback, Maserati -suggesting some life-long flair, or humbly, a Triumph Spitfire indicating, "THE FEW", (Air war/Battle of Britain-1940:) 

U were not there, yet your parachute corpse- spreadeagled on that speeding Auto hood, perhaps ghostly-screaming (Mamma-MaMia!!!) for MERCY...: The opposing driver, probably French, Spanish, Italian, they ALL drive like maniacs, cultural Matadors who drive-fandango, who consider modern traffic like a bullfight (OLE!) Cellphone-GLUED? -no clue? Still? YOU ARE DEAD.

 (To continue:) Then did your Edgar Allen Poe's GOTHIC dynamic survive the funeral drive? (They reluctantly, yearning for "après-funeral" - Cakes & Ale, tried to keep it slow?) Your wives/gals/mistresses were instructed: Low Key! (Somehow, didn't quite work out: WAILING! /Sandwiches-"Au-d'oeuvre après" parking your dead ass in a Montparnasse cemetery.) Sometimes, like on the Internet, Paswords/protocol, they disappear in memory/forgot OUT!!?

Did U CANOE/steer your SUPER-YAUCHT into that fatal ocean squall that takes NO PRISONERS, that SQUAWK-SQUAWK of a lady's menstruation, a Period-Spot, "OUT-DAMNED," said Lady Macbeth wishing her breasts cavort, turned into vinegar in a 1970s cheap-ass SLASHER-MOVIE, better still, a Chateaux-Margaux, vintage 1972 that no-one can afford?

Do we VIKINGS get launched, burnt-buried at sea, or have we DUG our own shallow grave where DEATH MEETS our fate, to be buried with your SURFING Longboard or high on mountain slopes, clutching-SKIES, or in government, the Castles U built; the Crusades against the ISLAM INFIDELS, the books that we write. Who curries our Tomorrow?... No worries. Our Songs, no need for Nostradamus, are predictably dead & gone.

Making JOKES at Funerals apparently R not cool. U bury the DUDE; U bury the FOOL. Alas poor YORICK. He'd be the FIRST DANNISH cool cat to change - via Shakespear's play Hamlet - the Cemetery-ritual rules!!! How-now!? How Now!? Or a DIVA'S swansong. A classic Soliloquy. An imagined flight of Angels. Some on the situ. (CNN-NEWS report: "On da Ground"!? -where else would they be?) with a Video-recorder: Here lies A LIFE, loved-Un-loved, for better or worse: Just another skull in the dirt. "R.S.V.P.".

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Bride wore Black."

 Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Bride wore Black."

(Après Francois Truffaut's tribute movie to Alfred Hitcock: The bride wore black.)

"The bride wore Black."

...THE BRIDE WORE BLACK, DEAD MAN'S hand (or mirror), the Pirates' BLACK SPOT! The Queen of Spades! An unlikely Roulette-spin-chance or CRAPS-TABLE that feast-promises SNAP, your gambling balls in a vice? A slip? A fall? To upturn the wrong stone? Fate or Destiny does NOT differentiate. To sit at the wrong Paris cafe table, or Strangers on a train? Mozart might have been socially obnoxious, but he could always compose under penury pressure but with billiards, he never failed to pot the black.

The bride wore Black, a French- New Wave -Truffaut cinematic REACTION as a playboy's sniper/balcony BULLET, overlooking a Wedding Party's church-steps, arrayed, was foolishly discharged, a lone shot outta no common-sense, it came outta nowhere, a Bridegroom SLAYED & like a Spider's 5 fingers of death, "a 'la" legendary WW2 Turkish master SPY, that double-agent: CICERO! (Still One finger left however, for retribution?) Black Friday? The 13th.? Some days, uncannily, historically seem accursed?

Avignon, Lyon, Bordeaux? A "film noir" version of the tragicomedy: CLOCHMERLE: But in this case...and the bride wore Black. A solidoid of revenge. 6 suspects accountable, their Fates now non-negotiable. One would "slip" off a high-rise balcony, the second poisoned, the assassin's devoted attention/auto-mechanic-training fixed the car-wreck; no survivors & the "usual suspects" under OTHER detective's glare? The bride in Black was indefatigable!

Just where was the last rogue who partook in the bridegroom's assassination? Why; in jail of course for fraud, misdemeanors... (The assassins' confession before the Guillotine, later successfully appealed as a "Serial Crimes of Passion"/LOL): "I got myself arrested/imprisoned & with a large prison-kitchen carving knife, delivering food to the cells, I asked him, like on my wedding day, "Do U feel lucky?" -and cut his head clean off!" Yup. The Bride in her Pride...wore black! And That's THAT!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Song of Roland."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "The Song of Roland."

(dedicato: Roland Alexander from Brit. Columbia/Canada.}

"The Song of Roland."

...SHE WORE A BLACK KIMONO, or her SARI glazed my eyes, or her Hungarian native costume danced in my mind? Her NAVEJO gentle attire "powwowed" into my lost soul as I traveled which would somehow - how 'bout U? - make me feel whole.

Crusades? That first mass-Tourists event (AD.800) "sans kodak camera", just swords, battle-axes, blood-thirsty in primordial foreign travel misery/no cheeseburgers/no cappuccinos on call. And WHO was I, a Crusader within a Crusade, a smock-faded Crucifix astride a valiant mount on my mission against the world's INFIDEL?

My journey, taken far & wide; a purpose, to this day, no-one can decide. And who am I, earthly-bloodied, to fall in love: Just a song of Roland who, loveless, with nothing to lose who elected to fight & die with brave men & true at "Rounsaville", after Thermopylae (Greek gig), histories 2nd Alamo.

She wore a black Kimono. When the Infidels mutilated my body, I saw her still. She wore a black Kimono!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now lounging in Belize/Dave Delacroix-a.k.a: David Michael Oxley on Facebook: "Yesterday's Gods."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Yesterday's Gods."

(Heavy-Metal-Poetry. Sorry folks.)

"Yesterday's Gods."

...FROM ZEUS TO GOD, from JUPITER TO JOVE, from Buddy Holly to David Bowie, from Madonna to Taylor Swift, from Jesus to Mohamed, from paycheck-to-paycheck, wotcha-gonna-DO? Times ARE hard. "The good old days never were." (Plato) It's SO hard to keep up with humanities mythical/spiritual/obsessive/historical Rock & Roll fashions upon which this flying rock/globe/this volcanic sponge (the EARTH) upon which we thrive (?), hurtling on its cyclonic dynamic through the universe, all pedal to the metal, accelerating - last clocked - at 18,000 miles per second, hoping (?) not getting a ticket for a D.U.I. from a local provincial COP/"Barney Fife goon"-assuming, PLANETS are TEA-TOTAL.

A Cadillac or Volkswagen, Sampan or Super-yacht? It's ALL atoms or "dark matter", an Artists paradise. We carpet the heavens. A comfort-canopy to allay our fears of NOTHINGNESS. And as for the "chaotica" of primaeval/Egyptian/Greek Mythology, a scratch on the paint job of your treasures, your Maserati-Auto?  Roman Poet OVID in his classic work: METAMORPHOSIS in God-style POETIC-PORN tells ALL: The Gods? Their gig is always about getting plundered, folks getting struck down, murder-"de rigeur", INCEST, women RAPED, all confused, but mostly within this chaos, the GODS having a jolly good time! -Which, alas is mirrored by WE mere mortals here below (Hollywood?) on a super-screen who - wisdom less - we (The Rocky Horror Show/Slasher-movies) still feel the need to SCREAM?

The harder they come... & Pride comes before a fall; the redundant "denouement" of Medievalism, Cults, ISLAM, mindlessly chanting in a Hijab or a Shawl. GOD WILLS IT!? -The Crusaders cried. And bloodied the streets of Jerusalem...And look above! The Night sky! VENUS, goddess of Love! U can see her every night. And, OH! Look. There's MARS! The red planet. The God of War. NEPTUNE, as blue as the Caribbean. And (by Jove!) there's JUPITER. Big guy. Apparently, HE is the vacuum cleaner of the solar systems comet/meteor detritus. All the night-skies cyclical dynamic on view of our universe &, perhaps, a glimpse of TIME.  Of eternity? Which begs the question a 'la the song by 1960s folk singer Sandy Denny: ""Where does the Time go?", a POKE, a pocket full of miracles which we yet abuse, un-controlled on this spongy-hurtling ORB, this Earth, mindlessly wondering... rudderless as we try to control our course on this ship of fools. Like Yesterday's Gods.

SO! Has anyone got any jokes?...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

 

Our Man in Europe/now basking in Belize/by Mexico/it's on da Map/DAVE DELACROIX: "Foot-Dangling Man."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: (Song) "Foot-Dangling Man."

(dedicato: Marc Pierson, creative colleague)

"Foot Dangling Man." (Lyrics for an Un-recorded song.)

....SOME CALL ME MAESTRO (I used to be in the Music-Racket, some call me the Gangster of Love/actually some call me their MUSE. Some wish they WERE me, and some refer to me as THE DUDE.

Some sing praises, others, some wish me long-time dead; they R the one's that never call me & think of me: Jusdge Dread.

...But all-in-all I'm a Casual Guy, broken heart, broken Guitars with nothing much to lose. A simple Foot-Dangling man who never bothered to choose U.

...I'm likened to the BIG LEWBOWSKI (Coen Bros. movie) though there's not a Polish bloodcell in my veins. I bask a lot in the Caribbean sunshine/lounge in bed when it rains.

I sometimes, only sometimes/there's no rush, I wander lonesome as a cloud - those white puffy things in the sky - but what people/critics cannot conceive; I AM that frickin cloud! (Sort-a. I never do details.)

But all-in-all I'm a Casual Guy, broken heart, broken Guitars with nothing much to lose. A simple Foot-Dangling man who never bothered to choose U.

(Après Allman Bros song, traveling man:)

"I was born a Foot-Dangling Man! ~ I was born a Foot-Dangling Man!"

c.2026. Dave Delacroix, Corozal-Belize.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "DA WABBIT!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: (With a LISP:) "DA WABBIT."

...IS YOUR WABBIT tired of being a Wabbit? Has it had enough; after-all, Wabbits R Wabbits: Wabbits lives matter, after-all!

Is your Wabbit bunny-bunny-furry or just a FRIZZLE in your Soul, the kind that makes U feel FURRY, that makes U feel whole?

These days, just how IS your Wabbit, big ears, can it warn U of tomorrow's sorrows; do U pray to your Wabbit, do U ever hear what it says?

Do U Wabbit a Whabbit within your own Soul? Do U sing of a Saviour from that Whabbit's earthly hole or sadly recline in your Villion or Dante exile. A Whabbit, a singular Whabbit, where Poets go when they have no home.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, next to Mexico, Dave Delacroix: "Dinner @ Trimalchios!"

 Our Man in Europe/now residing in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Dinner @ Trimalchios!"

(Après the writings of Petronius, (BC 27-AD 62), Roman Emperor NERO's court, fashionista &"Arbiter of Elegance".

"Dinner at Trimalchios."

...I'D RATHER OWN A PAINTING BY CARRAVAGIO than a "Leo-da-Vinci". I'd rather get drunk in Brooklyn than Manhattan. I'd rather midnight-toasty on Rochefort than hardcore Dutch EDAM (cheese) and as for a slab - medium-rare - of Chateaux Brion ("avec legumes/champignons") will serve me (I am now aged 70), a Dover of Sole/Oysters on the half shell) will happily serve me just as well. And as for a fillet-Mignon "avec" (such a convenient French word) Dijon mustard/a Burgundy Rouge BASTED? -U got me on your knees. Petronius would agree.

I'd rather dance (CICERO: "Only fools/Men dance!) if I must at some county fair rather than in a palatial Viennese ballroom. I'd rather savor a Chateaux Margaux (vintage 1962) than mouthwash/swill down an Aussie Yellow Tail cabernet (Who wouldn't but Yellow-Tail stuff DOES Travel-Well?). But who can a case of Chateaux Margaux-afford? I'd also rather go to CHURCH than go to CARNIVALE! My Carnival Days R long gone. Do/does everyone's WANTS exceed what they NEED & as for prayers-answered... is "confession" the key?... I have a theory 'bout this. S-Why I never answer my cellphone. Dinner at Trimalchios. Separate table. Dinner for One. I'll see U on da breeze!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "An ART GALLERY of Unfinished Blogs."

 Our Man in Europe, now living in Belize, Dave Delacroix: "An Art Gallery of Unfinished Blogs."

(long haul/better pack booze & sandwiches!) 

1)   "A Lamentation of Swans."

...A MURDER OF CROWS, a lamentation of Swans; the town whores gone-respectable? Civic leaders, Non-Smoking in a British "Working Men's Club", these latter days- "Arbiters of Elegance" who elevate their height with a POSH accent, stiletto shoes of course, apply Egyptian eye mascara/lipstick, the latter to intimate Female-Labia-lips all the while disdaining lechery's criticism, 

Queenie Cleopatra's legacy? -Madams in Salons who Swan Societies Event-Seasons, Ascot, Henley Regatta, Wimbledon, the Opera at Sadler's Wells: Societies Matriarchs, the powers behind the aristocracies throne, living - non-smoking/doing nose candy/DESPOTS who clutter with their oil painted "selfies" upon candelabra-lit gentlemen's private Club walls, which any Casanova-Libertine/losing at FARO, would pipe-mold-smell with his card-Sharpe 1,000 dead-eye stare? 

(No PSTD/Shell-shock-therapy in THOSE days. No wonder Thackeray's BARRY LYNDON went to seed.). Let's not THINK about personal hygiene.

2)... "Only the Moon."

...DO NOT FEAR MY CHILD., my love, do not fear tomorrow's wind, do not tremble. I will always keep U safe. I will keep U warm; it's only the Moon.

Do not fret my Sweet, do not blanket-cloak your head to stray-away un-founded nightmares, dreams-phantoms: U AWAKE! I will lull U aloft, hum a lullaby to ease U back to sleep.

And whilst U - AS U do - in almost deathly quiet splendor do U slumber - I'll promise U Tomorrow's joys, but as for now? Do not fear. It's only the moon. It's only the moon.

3)..."TWILIGHT OF EMPIRE."

ANEW!!! In THIS OLD MILITARY Officer's "Mess": The procedure goes like this: "Announce yourself! (New/Green Lieutenant Officer right out of Sandhurst Officer-Cadet College, posted to South Africa/the Natal-ZULU invasion) SO! Prove your "drinking-measure" Old-Boy! As for Officers present from the Colonies; please, no disrespect. But we DO expect our CALVALRY to guzzle GIN with Sabre's a-wielding!" HUZZAH! HUZZARH! HUZZARH!

 Weeks later, these English/mis-led Lads were annihilated by ZULU warriors righteously defending NATAL, their South African homeland.

4)... "FOOT-DANGLING-ANNONYMOUS!" (The Early Years.)

....I"M ALMOST DONE WITH FOOT-DANGLING; frantic masturbation by ZULU or is it SUZIE on yesterday's Tabloid on account of my age; Juliets R far & few between & I have no need of a Romeo/a Spanish gardener, either/OR because of my age: THIS WORLD WILL FUCK U! (Rumors, like the Fleetwood-Mac L.P. get thinner with age.

Yes. My "BI-POLAR" situ. (In the old days they used to call it STUPID/VILLAGE IDIOT until the Ville-Idiot invented the INTERNET); yes. MY Bi-polar whoosits ain't gone away. I just don't need to be on "high alert" in your absolutely necessary pedestrian company. Even then? -STEP INTO THE MICROPHONE: Can we just go get a beer?

5)   ENCORE!

So much to SAY, so much to DO! What U gonna SAY - George Orwell's 1984 - when then they come for U? WOTCHA GONNA DO when they wanna own U? But they already DO!!! (Look-a-round.) YA-think?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix; "Lucrezia!"

 Our Manin Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Lucrezia!"

...DO U JAMBO WHEN U Jambo? Do U Lucrezia when U smile? And do U "fandango" when U fandango-gypsy smile?

Do U WAIL when U. R. alive, do U. MARACA when U fandango, do U swirl your crimson dress, do U Maraca when U Tango?

(A gigolo, awaiting U in your hotel bed.)

DO U RAMBO like Rambo, drink/tear the - Corozal - town down, do U kiss & slay whoever, the ones who stare & frown.

Can U ever escape the life U have made, can U ever get Peace of Mind, do U ever Jambo when U Jambo, Lucrezia, that Borgia love of mine.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Circumnavigation of The Globe."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "A Circumnavigation of The Globe."

(dedicato: Songs by: Sandy Denny -R.I.P./Band/Fairport Convention (Come all U roving Minstrels) & The Allman Brothers (I was born a Ramblin Man).

"A Circumnavigation of The Globe."

...HAVE U EVER BEEN TO Tipperary/ it's actually NOT a long way to go/a 'la WW1 Song... if U live in Dublin. The Geraldine & Johns, such a happy throng till the "potato famine' (1820s-on) made CRUEL the emerald Isle & neighbor England's Industrial Revolution could not CARE FOR erstwhile!

 Have U ever been to ROME? U now live there. G.P.S. U live in Trastevere? MANOH! 2,000 years on, post-horse-chariots or Maseratis or a classic MOTO-GUZO Italian hot-rod to this day, Via-Capri, via any which way U wanna go, it'll get U there. (Don't need a Compass.) U will eventually "show up" despite rumors of "See Napoli & die!"

I never queue up & enter into the VATICAN in Rome with more than two Credit Cards, incidentally. (Yes, indeed, U might enquire?)

Did/could U venture into the "forbidden City"/SLASH a Peking-Emperors divine throat, now mute. SUNG OUT, a dynasty, a saga of WAR, the construction of the great Chinese Wall & imperial admirals, (1300s) sailing the Seven Seas, Arabia, Africa, NORTH AMERICA, nothing of significance homecoming to report.

It IS INDEED a question - a circumnavigation of the Globe - as to where to pivot a global Maps Compass and not so much to say, where have I been (Youthful homecomings, after traveling/partying/Museums/Art Galleries/Street Cafes/chasing after Gals, etc.) what the hell does it all mean!?

Interestingly enough, the World's historical explorers, many, out there died. Dr. Livingstone. Conquistadors. But so many others integrated & founded a new heaven and never - "What da frick? and happily never came back.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now hunkering down in BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "Riffiffi-Mamma-Mia!'/THE EPSTEIN FILES./Modest Mouse!"!

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Super-ESPIONAGE-Dude/ Dave Delacroix: "RIFFIFI-Mamma-Mia!"/The EPSTEIN FILES? (Modest Mouse!).

(dedicato: Mon frere - in Gascony-France/homeland of D'Artagnan/3 Musketeers? -  le Marquis Jean de Bats & national French/Portuguese cerebrated artist Isabel Pessoa)

"RIFFIFI-MAMMA-MIA!"/The EPSTEIN FILES/Modest Mouse!

...A-MAH little bit IN DANGER of being recognized for BEING myself. God knows what OTHERS see when U can't see yourself...Your OWN "Private-Idaho" (B-52s), your OWN "Personal-Jesus" (Depeche-Mode), your OWN personal "fail-safe button" (Stanley Kubrick) or MIO driving a stolen Pontiac outta Malibu/ Santa-Monica/L.A.

 "The Dashboard melted but we still had the Radio!" (Modest Mouse). Who knows...just WHO U. R.., the Man in Da Moon (Andy Kaufman/R.E.M.) or some old lady who lives in a Dickensian beach-house Shoe? Maybe I need a good Lawyer? A Publicist from the William-Morris (L.A.) Talent Agency. Some C.I.A. Agent as anyone-mystified can - Scottish - "KEN" (knowledge) to understand I'm a tad confused.

 U.S.A./C.I.A./F.B.I. Secret Agents R supposed to be specifically trained to "understand" or beat the shit out of U?

 So I was busted. Crumpled fender. That murdered KID hitchhiker on Pacific Coast Highway, not me BRO, but I did rob the Malibu Cross-Creek Mkt bank. Guilty as charged. But PUR-LEEZE shred my name from your F.B. I's Washington EPSTEIN files? People like ME!? -It's "Riffifi!" (Mamma-Mia!). People like Me. Small Change. Riffifi-Mamma-Mia! Go chase your Washington D.C. BOSS or ya Mamma!!!

c. 2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now residing in BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "It's not unusual...."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "It's not unusual..."

(Après Tom Jones song/1960s)

(dedicato: my 1990s Movie Star drinking buddies, Stephen Lee (R.I.P), Jan-Michael Vincent (R.I.P.) & William Forsythe, like me. a Survivor.)

"It's NOT Unusual..."

.... IT'S NOT UNUSUAL TO BE loved by anyone. It's not unusual TO BE -FRICKED-UP, menstruation problems or a DICK on a sleeping HOLLYWOOD-BUTCHER'S hook; And in Tomorrow's reflective stare OR glare U see no-one but the Soul U left behind, the one, perhaps U never had at all?

It's not unusual to BE absolutely wrong, to standing up, raise your issue in the throngs of the madding crowd? And/or sing the "just-right-WRONG" songs; a "faux-pas", a regret U take to your grave, a misgiving no-one but YOU - in the Economy-Size - get to be exposed...and then there's Fame?

It's not UNUSUAL (argument OVER "BAH" the shouting!) to be a kind of U? -A unique design AFFORDED just, actually DESIGNED FOR U. Come rain or shine it's yours by Gods design & no-one, NOBODY can take that away from...Are we lame, are we limping; next-in-line: Guess who? Soliloquies-abound. This one is for U.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Whisky-A-JU-JU"!

 Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Whisky-a-JU-JU"!

...DO U "JU-JU" in your MOJO, do U "JU-JU" late at night? Do U "JU-JU" in a pink "TU-TU" when no-one's in sight? Do U BOOGALOO in your "Nightie/slinky pajamas", do U set yourself alight? Do U "JU-JU" in your MOJO, does your night turn to light!

Do U "JU-JU" in your Mojo, just where has your lover gone? Do U MOJO in your "JU-JU" or wail an old song? Do U regret your tomorrows before they have come? Do U "JU-JU" your eternity full knowing your love's left & gone...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Out of the Past."

 Out Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Out of the Past."

(Après the Bob Mitchum/Jane Greer/Kirk Douglas MOVIE of the same name.)

"Out of the Past."

...R. U. safe? Are U safe? Nobody is safe. Go get a mandrake root, pull it out, hear it scream. Never mind what Time is it. But more, what Time U GOT? TICK-TOCK, before tomorrow erasers your Soul; souvenirs/Real Estate, your BEST FRIENDS MEMORY as in: Go & catch a falling star? They too wonder where past years R, erected dwarf-like, a memorial (John Donne, Eng. Poet. 1500s) statue in St. Paul's cathedral. Lookin' kind-a silly. Only your OWN words will prevail like pivots of wisdom - No man is an island - to hollow the marrow of future generations bones.

Do U go or stay, involve or REVOLVE within the sinew of your purpose. It's not a choice but it's the/your only voice to transgress mortality if that has any value. As wise men, fools, thieves' debate... can anything rise above the Coin of fame/recognition, a Tomorrows yesterday? All HAIL (Ave!) Once a Lady's glance that even now haunts U to eternity. A specter. Night People. A Film-Noir. Gaberdine-Fedora. A man with a plan. Out of the Past. But a story which invariably - "everyone's right that what I always say" - goes nowhere. Do U sulk, put $10 on a racehorse or just go out & dance?

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now residing in Belize/Dave Delacroix: TIME-TRAVEL THEME; No.6: "They DIED with their MULLETS on!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: TIME-TRAVEL No. 6: "The DIED with their MULLETS-on!"

(dedicato: Ann-Marie & Aaron Yaccobucci. Mostly Ann-Marie!))

(...Continuing my MISFIT TIME-TRAVEL theme Posts:)

"They DIED with their MULLETS on."

...GEORGE-ARMSTRONG CUSTER, famed USA-WILD WEST GENERAL who distinguished himself in the American - Union side - American Civil War; probably considered an "up-start" by the Institutionalize-Political-Military "JOINT-CHIEFS"/they, to this day have adjoint Suites in the Pentagon, sub-let-secret little spaces as in Stanley Kubrick's movie scene-the WAR ROOM/adjacent cubbyholes for the "HIGH COMMAND's/Chief of Staff's "pieces of fluff " TO THIS DAY' "MERRY XMAS & HOW I LEARNT TO LOVE that bomb-thingy?

 -And getting your 3-STAR (General/Rank as opposed to MOTEL-6)) TAX PAYER-SUBSIDIZED dick sucked, privately is a Medal of Honor of sorts/outta uniform of course whether in the KREMLIN, the PENTAGON, No.10 Downing St., The Elysée Palace-France, the VATICAN or the IMPERIAL PALACE in Beijing; they're ALL going AT IT!

...As in, like ANOTHER Military UPSTART, Colonel DOOLITTLE/WW2, "Go Bomb the Emperor Of JAPAN/Don't come back!"  they parked him (CUSTER) out to Manhattan-Kansas State, these days a college town, a.k.a. "AGGIE-V ILLE!" 

These days, a big University hub. Students in Aggieville incidentally R big on "College Basketball" especially when KANSAS STATE meet KANSAS-whoever else. I forget. I played a couple of bar-concerts there. (Manhattan-Kansas.) COOL FOLKS!!! Yet, Kansas State, a State like Arkansas where it's ILLEGAL to Hitch-hike?... Hiking OUT was a close-run thing. (SINGING: "Bury my heart-in Canoga Park!" (L.A.)

  Anyhow, back to the MULLET-thingy, George Armstrong CUSTER "sans Chapeaux" (WITHOUT cavalryman fedora/Stetson hat-whoosits) had possibly the earliest known photo-gig, "FIRSTIE/SELFIE" for having his mugshot/Foto/almost an "Antique Roadshow T.V. gig, silver-gilded B/W Rembrandt in sterile mood" who paraded his (unique hair style), THE MULLET/cut short to-sides/thin on top/long over-neck out back/let your hair-rug - if ya got it! - CAVALIER!...

 ...A Macho "plume de tete" which a century later became fashionable within the ranks of Construction workers (to distinguish/"a 'Un petite le Tour-Eiffel above the Paris skyline) but was NEVER adopted/caught-ON or became "SWINGING" a 'la "HEY DUDE!!!"  with Bankers, Accountants, LAWYERS - YET SOME DID gravitate to ponytails - mini tail braids, RASTA DREADS or an AC/DC "Man-bun"; one or 2 in NANTES, pronounced "Nancy" but only, I guess, the Legal Shysters, the ones who had nothing to lose, A.K.A. Money lenders. Your best friends? No worries. Sometimes SHAME, though awkward gets a bad name.

And as for POLITICIANS who of course - with beady eyes - a-feared of being perceived as TOO Bohemian/Avante-Garde by their "Clochemerle" provincial constituents or feeling a tight squeeze on their Political-foreskins/if they had survived politically correct circumcision...So, the Mullet- is off limits. ALAS! And pity the poor Mullet: MULLET PEOPLES LIVES MATTER!

When the great North American Native Indian Nations/Lakota's over-ran Custer's 7th. Cavalry at the "Battle of the Little Bighorn" (such names they have), when it came to "scalping" the vanquished (a custom introduced by European invaders) they probably felt short-changed that the enemy was a little light on the "Poodle-head", at that time, the current fashion in gay Paree! As for T-T (My Time Travel situ.) I waved my International PRESS CARD at Indian Chief Sitting Bull before he could strike me down. (Every T-T traveler carries one). 

He couldn't make "head nor tails" over my NIKON camera but regarded me as some kind of Holyman/a publicist to plead his nation's enforced plight & righteous defense & indignation. (Phew!) So along with a few wounded I got to walk away unscathed. There followed a week's rickety-fragile wagon train back to Manhattan-Kansas. At some lull on this sad retreat, I got to thinking maybe the Aggieville kids R putting on a B-B game, & then immediately felt ashamed.

I never got back to Manhattan-K. The T-T (Time Travel) powers that be extracted me & posted me to...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Maigret!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Maigret!"

(Après George Simenon's Inspector Maigret detective stories.)

"Maigret!"

...I AM CHIEF INSPECTOR MAIGRET. I sit all alone, dead of night in my bureau at the Police-Judiciary-sureate/office building, rive-gauche, downtown Paris-France. At present (maintenant) I am chained to my office telephone anxiously awaiting latest reports, my pipe clenched between my teeth, un-smoking. For something to do I sent out for beers (for my returning troops), baguettes, fromage & ham from the Cafe Dauphine. Some Calvados. An after thought.

I have dispatched my Kids (Mes Enfants), detectives Lucas, Lapointe, Janvier with uniformed Gendarme supported & fully armed to confront & arrest a particularly serpentine group of Islamic fanatics identified/accused of a myriad of crimes including blackmail, "quartier"/local businesses extortion & child prostitution. I have sent my Officers into harm's way, yet I am commanded by my "superiors" to remain at headquarters and thus I am presently in no way of knowing if my Boys succeed or come away un-scathed.

Yet in all Cases, it's the un-knowing, the fear-factor, that destiny-filled-orchestration in some OTHER hands; and/or in the end to be able to walk away; The Love U have saved? Lives? So often just disappear. And blood has no borders, the alleys of Montmartre or the boulevards of the Faubourg St. Germain.

Were histories Legends, Caesar, Alexander (the great), Napoleon, were they tyrants or just a ruthless product of their Times who sent a zillion Souls to their end? Atilla the HUN; no BLING! He only drank his booze out of a clay goblet!

A rage in a backpack is a Poets bane. "It'll shine when it shines!" -as they say in Missouri-USA. I'd better ask Madame Maigret to lay out my Sunday best suit for Mass if I get through this particular case. What rusty water or suicide Absinthe do our regrets absorb? And as for that mystifying Un-solved crime, the "one-that-got-away"; perhaps gypsy/Gaetano guitar-maestro Stephan Grappelli will strum them to their graves?

ROLL IT OVER! Un-crime the crime; the un-crime executes its criminality in its oblique diversity as EVIL is handcuffed, arrested or slain and in its final subjugation withers away another brutal criminal day-by-day urban Play.

Yes. I will not light my pipe till my boys come home safe; that I may finally close my world & this time, after case after case simply light my pipe, kiss Madame Maigret "bon nuit" & fade away. Maigret.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Beethoven's 9th. /Song.)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Beethoven's 9th. /Song."

...DID IT ALWAYS HAVE TO BE like this...R. U. Sure?... We R. SO alone like a bird on a wire, that very bird which can wreck an entire Choir. WAS IT U? Did He who made the mutton - dressed as Lamb - make thee?

We R. SO alone. (Tweet-tweet!) Do not go gently onto Brighton beach unless your feet can cope with sun-braised pebbles, the U.K.'s first "topless" resort populated by aging-Harridans with sagging tits, "Cougars" on dawn patrol! Where seagulls fear to tread.

....I wandered lonely as a cask of Tetley's bitter ale (U don't know the meaning of heartbreak!); BRING IT ON!" (Jerusalem?) And a "sucker" born every minute.

We R. vampires, desirous of our own neck. We suck on our own eternity layered with Ketchup or Worcester sauce! As the die is cast, Ego's reflection in the sorry-assed mirror of our ever-changing times, sun-flashes illusions of a golden tomorrow:

"FLY FLEANCE! Fly."

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.can 

Our Man in Europe/now residing in BELIZE (old British Colony), Dave Delacroix: "How green was my Valley."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "How green was my valley."

...EVERYTHING IS FINE so just how do we pass the Time? "TOUCHWOOD?" (Just for luck.) till depression's "Black Dog" comes along, to lick your toes & "who knows where the Time goes " (Sandy Denny) like a Devil in Dixie, a human-based plague, "sans regrets" nor souvenirs but just the Truth within U that U allow to go astray.

Everything's Kosher. everything's (David Bowie) "Hunky-Dory", on my own 70th. birthday, like a time-line SHRINE proving that I outlasted the Mob and, alas, old friends, pitiful old enemies & even HONOR/old debts now swilling down TIMES DRAIN (And consider! A bankruptcy of convenience?): A horizon-resurrection, some kind of constant cerebral fornication, outright CASANOVA-MASTURBATION, thinking only of those crazy-good old days? Pontius Pilot/hands now somewhat cleansed?

Everything is OKAY-DOAKY. We drink the damned wine. As Time passes, I sojourn like an old grouchy, old Vinyard vine, never failing a season, grapes-abundant, an old CLOCK/un-wound, yet that keeps on ticking: ALLORI! -within a new generations "Hi-Tech" Springtime of which I am barely cognoscente. And why should I care? Could they ever conceive of YOUR world-wide adventures or dare? As for MINE, sometimes we mirror Shakespeare in his darkest soliloquies. 

What fools (alas!) we R. And how green was the Valley, where we began. In some cottage, farmhouse, "Projects"/tenement/slum/some "dirty old town" where old dowagers kept an eye on the kids, the MEN, finished work, paid a mother his wages, ate a hearty dinner then went out to SMOKE, a pint of beer or 2 at the local PUB. All WOKED-OUT now...Days of yore.

What fools we R. How green was my valley. Lost loves/DISMISSED in our OWN compound of folly. What HULLABALOO did we enjoin, ENJOY but escape? Poverty? Some societal Zoo? A Cavalry Cross perhaps awaits all we missed, a fair lady's tears who still now weeps for U, for your defeats, your triumphs, perhaps once in a while, your valiant deeds; how green was my valley, then.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in EUROPE/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Mr. JINGLES & a Song/Flamenco!!).

 Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix, 2 posts: "Mr. JINGLES & a Song; "Oh-Spanish Moss!" -a Flamenco/OLE!!"

1)... "...O SPANISH MOSS DO I stay or remain. O Spanish Moss, your sweetest refrain; throughout the night, holding U tight, O Spanish Moss sways again & again.

O Spanish Moss does my Love live or die; O Spanish Moss where does destiny lie? -Throughout the night, holding U tight, O Spanish Moss, a RIOJA, a name.

O Spanish Moss, a Cajun-Bayou, nearby NEW ORLEANS, Mardi-Gras hullabaloo! Throughout the night, holding U tight, O Spanish Moss does my Love live or die!

2)... "Mr. Jingles!"

.....HE'S YOUR "GO-TOO" MAN, reliant/dependable/trustworthy (?) who makes EXCUSES on the flip of a hand/at the drop of a hat who - for some Ducats! - will ALIBI your last Saturday night/at Prayer/Bible Class, alone in your room making a scene with a magazine, no problem. Your reputation is in the clear.

He's (Mr. Jingle) Italian, Spanish, Belizean, he could be from GAY PAREE. He likes ICE in his whisky, wears a toupee & false mustache, an eloper of respectable Gals. Virginities-lost-GALORE! As for DEPENDABLE? If U rob a Bank, in the "getaway-jalopy/golf cart" he'll save your ass in a mad dash! Having to get a SWEAT ON - with Mr. Jingles - is Por/Per for the course. (Golfing-sport-thingy-vernacular?) "FORE!!!" (Mind ya Gig!)

He's the Valet of Valets! A Gentleman's-Gentleman. A BUNTER (Butler) to LORD PETER WIMSEY. A master of disguise. He can also be a Plumber/fix any situ. AND If U R a SERIAL KILLER, this is the guy U need to hide from the F.B.I. leastways, for a while.: Lady Montague's stolen diamond necklace? Blamed on RAFFLES! Ha-ha! Pity. "Sans" Mr. Jingles. Raffles must have lost his Card.

He's you "VELLY" own Mr. Jingles who can LISP on a dime. An ancestor of famed Dickensian/Pickwick Papers, a "Mr. Jingles", that Man on the Spot, a Man of Affairs who has no money but will freely lend-YOURS! He lurks in railway stations, airports or on a voyage a-sea always "affecting" (Greta Garbo) "I VANT to be alone."

A character, distasteful, yet bearing in mind the "slings & arrows of outrageous fortune" that we R all borne to weather, a persona - who has not thought? - we might sometimes wish to be.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now in Belize/Dave Delacroix: "My Brilliant Career!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "My Brilliant Career!"

(dedicato, orig. genius Australian LADY WRITER, 1901, Miles Franklin, who described AUSSIE-OUTBACK life expecting no recognition. U can buy/read HER book or SEE the Australian MOVIE: "My Brilliant Career" on Utube with Aussie star-studded cast. THIS, my Blog Post, a Salute to HER, a righteous Artist, not to be forgotten.)

"My Brilliant Career." 

(This a longish post so U might want to make a sandwich/put a 6-pack of beer/bottle of Vino on ice/roll 2 or 3 cigarettes/turn off your phone...then RElax.)

"My Brilliant Career.)

DO NOT DO TODAY IF U CAN PUT IT OFF till Tomorrow. Sheep shearing? No worries. Leave THAT GIG to the experts. Logistics, Politicians, your needy In-Laws awaiting your demise? At some point they'll go NUTS not knowing if they're gonna inherit! The Sheep? They'll stay WOOLLY/buy tickets to a LED ZEPPELIN arena concert. S-what Sheep do.

 Meantime?  I DON'T invest in a "sure thing" & if her daddy got NO Money, even less: "When tomorrow comes" (Carole King) & if her Pappy (local Sherrif) rides me out of town? OUCH! Like OVID (Roman Poet) who had the same problem with Augustus-Caesar who exiled him from Rome to RUMANIA for writing SMUT...A disrespectful Family can do that to U too? (People R SO finicky!) Why is the act of fornication exhibited/masturbation for that matter considered publicly taboo? The Etruscans, according to Greek observers never had such qualms.

(AHA!!! And Facebook - Censorship! - these days/2026) ...despite my Classical education and, alas I am now voluntarily self-exiled in BELIZE/by Mexico & I haven't even re-written a SMUTTIER version of OVID's "Metamorphosis"!... But leastways the CHURCH (?), American COPS/ICE/the USA's Imperial Guard, Canada, countries I've been kicked out of, down here they can't CENSOR or bust me! (Haven't spent ONE NIGHT in jail down here!) Age 70, drinking less but still wanna YAHOO!!! (Thinking of relocating to CUBA: Career move).

(CICERO:) "Only a FOOL will DANCE" though out THERE there's always a prancing Rudolph Valentino or 2; and in THIS - Rudolph Valentino/Silent movie star 's -case he had a zillion fans and ONE classic star-struck "Groupie"/Lover? One in particular, (probably Natasha-whoosits) always cloaked/black veiled-graveside placed anniversary flowers ON his grave and, I guess later joined him asunder in Loves eternity a 'la gossip, romantic legends, old "78" scratchy records, the Gilded Age.

... Even today, her identity, somewhat unknown: No "Selfies/Fotos" of course. The Paparazzi in the 1920s was in its infancy. Nobody stood STILL long enough. (Early Photo-techie-thingy?). "Selfies", amongst the "smart-set" probably VERBOTEN! Today? U wear disguise. Ice-Hockey Goalie mask. (Even at funerals!) "Molto Romantico!" -Think-Caruso on a bad night. Or Maria Callas in embryo. Concepts/projections-SWIRL! -Privacy in Death - "sans Hollywood" I suppose. In repose U can still make $$$ for what good it does U. Ask Micael Jackson.

Still. IN Love's eternity, Homer's Ulysses, Gaelic/Norse Sagas, "Romeo & what's her name?", 'Le Chanson de Roland", "Zen & the art of Motorcycle Maintenance" a 'la "A tale told by an IDIOT full of sound & fury" to the HULLABALOO of generations pompous trumpets and now CINEMATICALLY, still THEN to blaze, to dumb down the masses to an empty cerebral place: An Irish Dray Horse, fed just enough to know it's still hungry, Fames' Night of the Locusts: The OSCAR movie awards?

 A "Molto romantico Socio-Cultural Thrift Store. One step UP from a pawn shop where the Prophets, GODS (?), those man-made JU-JU-MEN as true as Cicero's non-Dancers in the sky wearing RAYBANS! The BLUES BROTHERS maybe, with Angel wings! (Nothing incidentally has changed?):

And: "Will U still need me? (The Beatles!) Will U still feed me? When I'm 64?" Ya gotta wonder? (Pawnshop: How much do I get for this TIMEX watch?) The 1990s band ABBA: "SELFIE ME-SELFIE U! -AHAH!!!" -WotchagonnaDO? The simpering hordes will always queue up outside Hollyweird's whoosits Chinese theatre for any glitzy premier?

DIAMONDS AIN'T - JAMES BOND - actually FOREVER when U got none! TWIX the Bible, Shakespeare, Dante & the full LOTUS seated BA-HA, the sayings of Confucius; the repetitive ravings of: "Do not put your faith in Princes/Never trust a man who doesn't DRINK & keep one eye on the non-smokers, likewise old Brothel Gals NOW main-street ladies "with issues" who HATE SMOKERS", Virgins BEWARE!

In hindsight, pity I didn't meet JULIET when I was 20! SHE was too - a nonsmoker -refined & I was inconstant-as is the way of frivolous Youth who knows too much too soon. (My excuse.) And all bets R off when U start playing guitar 2-Chord Blues! Her harmonica playing incidentally, was also atrocious! (Could-a formed a Band? We'll never know.) She married some clown with a serious Pocket Book.

World War 1 Soldiers song: "Pack all ya troubles in your old Kit Bag & Smile-Smile-Smile!"

Life, TIME! It marches on. So! Now! As raw-souding as singer JOHNNY CASH or like a Soldier from the GREEK-ALAMO, the Grecian THERMOPOLAE battlefield, wounded but groaning who after a couple or 6 Ouzos might say: "In Folsom Prison/scratch that/...Traveler, who pass on by", from Istanbul to Damascus, London to L.A. (I'm getting verbose) & now with ALL the AZTEC astronomical wisdom THAT star-studied culture applied... pant-pant...which we interpret day by day; richer or for poorer, haunted yet rejoicing, far from the madding crowd, mostly comfortably numb: my brilliant career. OUR brilliant sojourn. With any AUTOBIOGRAPHY it's hard to know how to be inclusive, to WRITE YOURSELF IN? 

 A conjurer's domain? Destiny's sleight of hand. A Caravanserai to the end of Time. Do we still yearn for Yesterday? Our brilliant career... on this pesky road all souls must travel, regardless, MUSTING in our LIVING-OBLIVION but borne to accept we just "mosey" along? Or do we RAGE till our last breath and IN death TATTOO a prehistoric hieroglyphic on some desert rock for later generations to find? I wonder. Yours & mine. Our BRILLIANT whoosits.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. (F.Y.I. Back in the mid 1970s having read Miles Franklin's "My Brilliant Career" I formed a London Band: MY BRILLIANT CAREER and released a 12" long-play Single. (Message of Love). It made it to No. 1 on the U.K. Radio Play charts.)

There's a THRIFT STORE awaiting everyone's life. One step UP from A PAWNSHOP magnet, the nuts & bolts/your demise/abandoned life-long souvenirs.

Our Man in Europe/now BELIZE/Dave Delacroix: "GENGHIS KHAN!" (People will talk!)

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "GENGHIS KHAN!" (People will talk!)

(...a continuation of my TIME TRAVEL/ Fantasy-Blog/not telling the CHINESE - blog posts that R probably worthless/yet mildly amusing: - see previous 3 TIME TRAVEL blog posts: This is No. 4:

"GENGHIS KHAN." (People/THE HORDES will talk!)

...MY TIME-TRAVEL GOVERMENT MASTERS launched me ONCE AGAIN INTO THE PAST/sent me to - TIME TRAVEL visit/encounter TAMBOULINE/'historical-Dude who WARED & didn't take prisoners. A battlefield of corpses & amputees. But MY OWN Government/Scientific T-T (Time Travel) co-ordinates were off-center, so I ran into GENGKIS KANH, and I (my fool T-T/Time Travel-mission masters) had me wrongly attired. My T-T tailoring, dressed in a white Tuxedo/Gieves & Hawkes bowtie, Turnbull & Asser silk shirt, yet TIME erases/all Cellphones and wore DOWN...

... my own TIME- TRAVEL accoutrements leaving only the rags I am presently wearing dragged out of Life's dirt: No good with a BEE-GEES soundtrack -I landed on the MONGOLIAN TUNDRA, overdressed though on the "ground floor":(People will talk!) Still. T-T! (TIME TRAVEL!) I showed up. (Sometimes T-T/Time Travel? -It's what U gotta DO!) Sometimes Ya gotta show up looking new? TIME-Thingy!!! No Internet. Leastways not in 1352!...

(People will talk!)

Nighttime, massive camp campfires across the Siberian plains, & I was asked to STRUM my own damned song, so I did,  a "cover band" -rendition by a Persian Poet named HAFIZ, a version, before the ISLAM SCOURGE, before our intelligent Middle Eastern Ladies, Teachers & Scientists, our new MOMS & DAUGHTERS who must now scatter & cloak in a BURQUA &/OR be silenced: So I strummed  HAFIZ's "The road to Damascus. Fates appointment!"...I might have got a few words wrong. WE POETS R not perfect. TIME-TRAVEL of course - no pun intended - does it in fact WARP a mind. Today's (Persian?) MULLAHS can't take "Freedom of Thought." They don't know How-to get OUT of their religio-structured-brainwashed mind. 

(People will talk!)

.... In MY SAD-SAP Case: Got to THINKING they sent the "Wrong Man", (Henry Fonda/Film Noir), they sent the wrong TIME-TRAVEL DUDE or some "Our Man in Havana", an idiot SPY without a plan. (Pension Plan Application?) AS FOR GENGHIS-KAHN, what's to know other than he - never conquered - but traversed/ravaged the WORLD, built no citadels nor a monument to his - transient-lifestyle - Mongol grave. Makes U wonder what they'll put on your OWN gravestone, less U get butchered in a Civil War ditch: "Here lies some poor bastard/culled by the Mongol hordes, his bones on these fields lie scattered in the wind. Did he piss in the wind? Did he offend ALLAH? Can U look his mother in the eyes?

(People will talk.)

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Last of the Dumbfucks!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The Last of the Dumbfucks!"

 - (continuing my Fantasy/History themed TIME-TRAVEL blog posts from "The RE-Charge of the Light Brigade" & T-T No. 2: T-T Misgivings.)

"TIME TRAVEL No. 3: "The Last of The Dumbfucks."

...IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES; it was the worst of times. In the Colonies, late 1600s, Governor SPOTSWOOD made several expeditions into "darkest/territory unknown" of what is now known as Pennsylvania, a U.S.A. State renown for coal mines & George Thorogood ("I drink ALONE!!!) Roadhouse Rock & Roll, a State which is as oblong as Texas is wide.

Writer Fennimore-Cooper parked out his novel (The Last of the Mohicans) of this wild/untouched territory (British colonial era) where some Colonel got his TEST-TACKLES ATE by attacking MOHICANS; pre-PUNK ROCK "sans" electric-3-chord guitars, a precursor of the later British - The BEATLES - music invasion where-in (the Mohicans?) the locals too might have remained SEX PISTOLS "pretty vacant". Hard to say.

TIME-TRAVEL MISSIONS are "wearing" on a T-T Man. I'm thinking of asking for a pay-rise. Meantime, the T-T LORDS landed me HERE on this colonial/lyrical/frontier. We R talking C.I.A., K.G.B. MOSSAD, & M.I.5/as long as the CHINESE R kept in the dark in fear they initiate MASS T-T Travel & screw up World History... Still, my mission's purpose was quite illusive. T-T management never overload U with details full knowing, but never intimating, T-T isn't a day out with Simon & Garfunkel to Coney Island!

And YES! Pity Mio! What was I supposed to do? -Overloaded with music by THE CLASH never mind more than one ERA'S culturally ZONKED brain? And never mind the Mohicans, what about Governor SPOTSWOOD! Do I tell him about FACEBOOK, trips to DA MOON or Taylor Swift?...

I guess my T-T Masters got (Time-) wind of my confusion & "DUST DOWN-TIME-EXTRACTED" me, pulled me out my T-T dilemma which is supposed to eliminate/eradicate all memory of any Mission. Yet in anticipation of my Sinister T-T Masters, I hereby Post.

Anyhow. Water under the bridge I suppose. Nobody SCALPED ME!!!...My next T-T assignment? (I submitted my Pay Rise Application): "The Assassination of Julius Caesar!". The assassination of J.F.K. I guess, the "powers-that-be" were keeping buried for when all conspirators were either dead & gone or their descendants had squirreled the pay-off into banks on the Caymans? 

What do I care! I'm still waiting on my T-T Pay Rise approval application. And AS for Julius Caesar's demise. through this particular mission I would also meet - through this singular T-T mission - a Roman goddess, the only woman I ever loved. Her name was Cleopatra.

...U don't know the meaning of T-T heartbreak folks? But that's another story!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Time Travel, No. 2. /T-T misgivings."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Time Travel, No. 2./T-T misgivings."

(dedicato: Loic X.)

...IT WAS THE BEST OF BARS (Cafes) it was the worst of Bars, Fat YA-YA or Old Fat Magot who - long ago - captured Aristo-Beaus between their thighs might have given them a "dose" which they then passed on to their future wives. (Mandatory for the European Grand Tour.) My TEST-TACKLES on this occasion were quite safe.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. RAIN-RAIN-RAIN! -Paris-France in September, my government sponsored - TIME TRAVEL/undercover Dude/GIG - landed me in the1990s so I'd patioed myself in Montmartre at the CAFE RDV (Rendezvous) des Amis a-table with Mon frere Loic De X who I had actually met in "real time' decades before.

Time Travel enables U to encounter a myriad of living - or dead - folks. Most, U never heard of. But some R innate enemies, some instant friends! Some to fleece U? Some, to defend! Some R sharks of course. Some, just plain Losers. Your wallet, the shirt off your back? One eye on the angled mirror over the bar.

In Time Travel U R plunged into an emotional quagmire of regrets, hauntings, GHOSTS all shrouded in some spinal yesteryear. Past lovers? -who R barely above the grave with complexions (think cheese) like Rochefort/Stilton/Brie-gone-bad and a withered withdrawn demeanor for just who desires an ice cold ELGERA kiss, a maggot or 2 on her lower lip?

...And necrophilia not being your "bag", U justifiably attempt to FLEE in abject terror, singing: "One more "Vin de Table" before I go...Better make it a large one; One more "Vin de Table" before I go; to the valley below!" (Time Travel is not for the feeble in Spirit.) "Le plate du jour" maybe cheap but it isn't free.

Time Travel. Oh boy! Like a cyclonic spiral, better still, a labyrinth, of INNER REGRETS - dealing with the Past here - hardly ever lets U go. TIME IS A PRISM: Ghosts. Hauntings. Even moments of "Deja-vu" have U in its primordial coils. And your Time Travel Tourist Impressionist (painting) smile may work for a lost weekend in this - government sponsored T-T - investigation of a famous unsolved Murder? ...Here's hoping I get to realize my Government Pension plan.

...T-T communications at this "time", even though government sponsored, R akin to early telephone calls or basic radio transmissions. Pretty fragile. But I can - if this message gets to U - tell U that my NEXT T-T assignment is to Istanbul. Some master spy named Cicero: "The Five Fingers"! And after? Vienna, Austria to check out some hood named Harry Lime. And don't ask. The T-T bosses just send me where they send me. Just don't tell the Chinese! They'll mass produce T-T Tourism. (Holy moly!) And they MAY be watching the same "film noirs"!

c.2026. Dave Delacroix....For the FIRST TIME TRAVEL post on this Blog/scroll down & read the post: "The RE-CHARGE of the LIGHT BRIGADE"....I will be continuing the theme as the spirit moves.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "BIG BAMBU!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "BIG BAMBU!"

...I DON'T DRINK TOO MUCH but I drink ENOUGH on account I don't want the Booze to go bad. I don't CHAIN-SMOKE - unless I have to - all the time. I DON'T fall in love on a Dime, but when U only got Nickels? I post depressing Poems on Dave Delacroix @ Blogspot.com. "Our Man in Europe." I may as well be on planet-someplace for all the response the blog gets...Oddly, over a quarter of a Million: Lotta bored people out there? But YO! I'm not in love. Inter-planetary Internet PORN still light years away & the orgy of Youth long gone.

THESE DAYS I don't travel anywhere; been, done & seen that. Seen it all before. Temples, monuments, Parthenon, Panty-Thongs, I knew a cutie in Istanbul who turned out to be ABDUL! Like I say, long since I shoved "all my yesterdays" up Memories/Frank Zappa's "Grande Kazoo!" And these days I try not to whine in these Belizean balmy tropical evenings, so I've taken to whining at the crack of dawn - accompanied by our local jungle birds/cacophonic dawn chorus, and Java-coffee, Bloody Mary & Jesus chain smoking before the standard "petite déjeuner" of Whisky & Beer. It's become a ritual.

U can sing AT the Moon. U can bow down/pray to a Rock. Wooden Crosses R still in vogue/kneeling posture. Luckily, I'm Bi-Polar/ambidextrous/can't play tennis/prone to "attention deficit disorder", I know my A-B-C's, but I can never get past DAVE! Not to mention I was not TO the Manor born nor with a silver spoon. And I don't drink too much. I only keep an eye on the booze in case it goes bad. But, sadly, BIG BAMBU! -U never can escape your gloom. That Big Bambu. No matter where U roam. When it wraps its arms around U.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Oh Happy Day!"

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "Oh Happy Day!"

...WHEN JESUS WALKED, (When Jesus walked...) Where Jesus walked (Where Jesus walked...): O happy day! O happy day! O happy day.

When U 1st. KISSED - O happy day - the one U first loved? -O happy day. There were NO tomorrows, O happy day! U betch-a! O happy day, that day.

When Jesus walked - O happy day - U walked in his footsteps - O happy day - and when YOU first loved: O happy day. (Sing along:) "O happy Day. O happy day!" (Don't be shy:) "O HAPPY DAY!"

And still your LOVE is so True - O happy day - & the Kids R clothed & FED & all SAFE - O happy day -  ...and so let's ALL sing together? -Remember the words? Foot tapping is acceptable too:

"O Happy Day." (Let me HEAR U!) "O happy day." Oh yeah/U got it! "O happy day! O happy day." THIS IS your Day!... O... happy...day!... (U can all sit down now.)

c.2026. dave delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The KAREN Song."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "The KAREN Song."

...(singing/whining:) ...I GOT ISSUES WITH MY ISSUES, I gotta feeling...the World has done me wrong. I gotta FEEKING - peeking at me! - outside of WAR & PEACE; I got some heartfelt, serious ISSUES, U will never UNDERSTAND -don't get me wrong (?)... And when...

...And when I think/see U trespass on MY SOUL - I'm sensitive-sometimes? - I'll sure as hell give U "What for!!!", "WELL...Y-KNOW?" (Actor Christopher Walken-speak) Nobody gonna get away with that? I'll EVEN UP da score! -And on the Internet, I yell my song! (U can Man-Bun your long hair but U cannot hide!) My HARRADAN-harangue will strip it down.

I got ISSUES, left, right, sometimes Left too. I'll give U "what for!" -it's what I do! U got everything U need, but U don't know what U want, where-as I DO! I AM & always WILL BE your personal-societal nemesis & as any respectable KAREN in your neighborhood WE NEED to RANT, From Clochemerle/France or in downtown-N.Y.C.: And traditionally, in most neighborhoods there's always one or two KARENS who wrestle with their Blues, every ready for confrontation, in olden days, the Village Nag? (...Always that "U/Not ME" factor.) 

I got ISSUES. I got issues. A psychotic ALAMO which I must defend! Rain or shine. Shut your dammed KIDS up! My Feng-sui Gyro-all outta WAK! They play too near my garden!  And YOU!!! Fishing! Canoe-in down my back garden "personal" bayou. As FOR, and I just don't like the clothes U wear? SO, GET OFF MY CLOUD! Respect MY ISSUES! And no use whining. I'll out-whine U! COS that's what a classic KAREN will do.

c.2026. Dave Delacroix.

Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "All along the Lee Shore."

 Our Man in Europe/now Belize/Dave Delacroix: "All along the Lee Shore."

(dedicato: Gordon Westran/Sheffield/U.K. Bro.)

....ALL ALONG THE LEE SHORE, shipwrecks like U & Me lie half buried in the sand, all with a story to tell like some almost forgotten song old seafarers still hum: "OH-ANACREON (Greek Poet) we raise a glass to thee!" or "ADMIRAL LORD NELSON -we'll DRIVE HOME into the gates of HELL for thee!"

ANACREON in heaven? We raise a glass to thee!

Sometimes U feel like an old Sheffield Wednesday Football Club soccer ball. Not %100 inflated left over from a muddy field. 

Alas! And so it goes, beached as we R on this mind-set Skeleton Coast, an empiric-elephantine boneyard OF MEMORY left to be buried by Time's desert sands like a Saharan OZYMANDU monument for future generations to gape at and wonder. Nevertheless, a Lee Shore which no West-Wind-OH! Mariner ever expects. It comes as the Iron Duke of WATERLOO fame now faded into obscurity.

ANACREON in heaven? We raise a glass to thee! Anacreon, U bawdy hack? We sing U into eternity. (UP THE OWLS!!!)

c.2026. Dave Delacroix/David Michael Oxley.

Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Saturday, in the Park."

 Our Man in Europe, now Belize, Dave Delacroix: "Saturday, in the Park." (Après song by 60s band Chicago/their Chicago V LP)

"Saturday, in the Park." 

...I GET VERTIGO IN THE VERTIGO inside my mind. I WEEP but never cry; certifiable? Probably. I should have been RE-HOUSED from Soullessness long ago.

I get drunk before I'm drunk, a sensitivity of Soul. I write poems about the "only woman I ever loved" long before we meet. (Weird.)

It's so hard to be a sex-symbol when nobody knows. My fashionista tailor is the local Thrift store. Oh boy! Do I shine? -Plaid on Plaid!

I invented the "French-Dip Soup". Forgot to Copyright. Get no royalties. Same THING: Russian TEA/Tea without milk. Culinary History passed me over.

And it's difficult to be "the leader of the Pack" when U hate crowds, like a Politician, Poet or a Freedom Fighter who hates People? The funeral pyre of peoples Autograph Books.

Still. Saturday, in the park, I thought it was the 4th. of July. And there I sat upon the grass, a "Nowhere Man", O.K.-ing -it's O.K. to ask Why...

c.2026. Dave Delacroix. 

Our Man in Europe/now Spying in Belize/not selling Vacuum Cleaners/DAVE DELACROIX: "The RE-CHARGE of the LIGHT BRIGADE" (a

 Our Man in Europe/now Spying in Belize/not selling Vacuum Cleaners/DAVE DELACROIX: "The RE-CHARGE of the LIGHT BRIGADE!"

(A fantasy/creative literary Blogpost of a renown historical event: The Charge of the Light Brigade/Crimean War/1857 responsible for - as in ALL War, lots of needless dead bodies but also Florence Nightingale, the founder of modern-day hospitals: "The Lady with the Lamp".)

"...The RECHARGE of the LIGHT BRIGADE!"

...NOT A LOT OF PEOPLE KNOW THIS - Time Travel? Still under the cloak of Government Secrecy - but I was THERE: C.I.A, K.G.B., M.I.5.; yes, TIME TRAVEL is under wraps less the CHINESE find out and mass produce Time Travel Tourism. But I, yes, I was THERE (assigned/secret agent/undercover) with my "Hasselback", my Kodak instamatic camera too & a Super-8-Cine! (My Cellphone dissolved thru Time Travel, incidentally. No Internet service in 1857 anyhow.) I COULD have used my 35mm-CINE/with aluminum tripod but - wearing Period clothes - a sure target for Russian snipers on the battlefields every side... & it WOULD have wrecked Poet-Tennysons "Into the Valley of Death rode the 600...plus some oddball taking "Selfies"?" (U can't mess with the Past/First Law of Time Travel.)

Anyhow. Into the Valley of whoosits rode the 600? Maybe 575. Yet AS an eyewitness to this debacle, and I too, astride-DONKEY there-in trailing behind the cavalry, snapping photos horses/riders' asses I was a tad - as they say in Italy - "incapacitato"!" -Later I would muse, like mounting a GOYA painting, the Naked MAJA, a Bela on a divan, a Saturday night, wonderfully inebriated but without bedside candelabras/heartbreak-City! -I was essentially blind as a BAT; In other words, no upfront grisly Foto "close ups" to win me a Nobel prize. Photojournalism even incorporating Time Travel is unforgiving outside of getting butchered in the fray. Journalism is self-glorification. The STORY is just backdrop. But I digress:

Lord CARDIGAN, in command of the Light Brigade, perhaps he wore a thick one, (a Cardigan) the precursor of the modern bullet-proof vest/ leastways he survived the charge/didn't get a scratch. By all accounts he was a "jolly good fellow" -madcap-drunk, and these days (2026) a pre-requisite for British Army Sandhurst Officers College. And YES! A True Commander of Troops, faithful unto death, whose BOYS, lances-wielding, sabers swirling, the like of those who sent Napoleon's armies to their graves and as later recorded (& FILMED!) in the GREAT WAR (1914-18), the "like", armed only with a "swagger stick": "Come-On Me-boys! For England & St. George!" Thousands per day of course immediately mowed down...Every English/French town/village has a monument listing names: "Pour la Gare".

But THIS notable "engagement", the stuff of legend, the Charge of the Light Brigade full of "cut & dash" not forgetting eternal military glory, we - on site/"On the Ground" as USA Media reporters love to enunciate, we, my donkey-with, and the Light Brigade, TROT-TROT-TROT went FWD. (Could-a been a Horse guards' parade!) But THAT only lasted for about 20 minutes... A late arrival, a Captain Nolan/superb horseman recently reassigned from warfare in the Punjab (India) had hand-delivered an ancient E-Mail/"DISPATCH" from the "High Command" who were picnicking on a hillside promontory, armed with Telescopes way back yonder which - the DISPATCH - seemed to cause some consternation/confusion/bickering amongst Lord Cardigan, subject to LORD RAGLAN, the engagements senior commander who subsequently retired from the "advance", rejoining the ranks of the reserve "Heavy" brigade.

Anyhow, (TROT-TROT-TROT), a picaresque vision of an assortment of riders, the ranks in splendid formation, be-splendant in uniforms, gold or brass buttoned, red, black & crimson tunics, Jodhpur riding pants, knee high, spurred boots in black or Bond Street fashion Monkey-shit brown, chain-mail strap helmets, paste-board tops or steely-peak caps; mustachioed fellows sharing a brandy flask or 2, a devil-may-care attitude. It struck me that NONE of them had any illusions, not since WATERLOO of what hell they were riding into. -Lord Raglan, out in front. Erect, Sabre upheld!

The rest is now bleary. TWO CANNON-SHRAPNEL bursts exploded overhead. Captain Nolan's horse went down/Nolan's head blown clean off, yet his arm/hand still waggled his saber in the air? The latter of the two-explosive bursts, and my donkeys alarm, I was thrown to the ground, where-in my donkey was directly turned into BBQ! -And my camera equipment, utterly shattered/no "selfies" alas, as the Light Brigade upgraded from a parade ground TROT to a CANTER, hooves pounding & the wails of "Victory or Death!".  

......................The relief of Mafeking, 55 Days in Peking, the Zulu war, Roukes Drift. Korea. Vietnam. TWO WORLD WARS! Yet in the Crimea, "the Lady with the Lamp", Florence Nightingale who took it upon herself with many volunteer nurses and led her OWN CHARGE to patch up the madness of Mans insanity. A heart felt pulse which we should all revere.

Today? So help me God, I've been reassigned. My latest Time Travel mission, (1990s) and no worries, Hi-tech visual recording gear. My global "Maigret's"-government Masters have allocated me personal space-satellite time all downloaded AND encrypted on my cellphone. The password is: "The Rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain/Betty's got a brand-new dog." -I should be able to remember that. I'm still "on the ground" (media speak) in a war zone. It's just as gross as before. This time, the Middle East. A tribal-situ. A bunch of Hatfield & McCoys who've been going AT IT for 2 millennium over divergent Icons in the sky or the correct way to tie the laces on your sandals (?)...

c.2026. dave delacroix.