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

Take 16: Through the (brewski) looking glass

(dedicato: Steve Mross)


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

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

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

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

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


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

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

Take:  15:  Lifestyles of the Frizzante & Famous


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

NOT FUNNY.

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

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

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

c 2011/dave

(Piacenza) Take 13: Sunset Boulevard

Take 13:  Sunset Boulevard


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

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

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

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

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


Introducing: (Ozzie Osboune):

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


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

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

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

(Y'all getting this?)


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

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

Take 12: No more Rice Krispies

(a letter)

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

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

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

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

"ASHOO!!!!!"


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

(Piacenza) Take 11: Mrs Robinson

Take 11:   Mrs Robinson

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

(...though a trifle long winded:)

(on the subject of Death?)

"Basically? -dont worry about it!"

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

The bright side?

NO Dentists.

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

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

(Where was I?)

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



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

(Piacenza) Take (Number) 10: Unforgiven

Take 10:   Unforgiven

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

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

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

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


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