Part 46: Portraits from a Smokey Room (5 Easy Pieces!)
(1)...There`s Lazarus, of course, slouched, sleeping on a bar table, who even JESUS couldn`t stir....maybe an old, ex-hippie-gone-bad, unkempt-white boy, rasta hair, wearing rags, ever accompanied by the - by now retired - Duluxe Paints, English sheep dog.
(It`s hard to tell which of the two, the dog or its comatose owner has the "blues" the most...? -one (the dog), is desperately in need of a "pint", the other - when actually stirring - pants like an asthmatic with all the comcorant dribbling and evident sense (or lack) of bewilderment....!
...Back to the dog; the critter is ever happy to see the bar "madchen" show up with fresh Ganter pilsner, whilst Lazarus, his head momentarily uplifted, in the forlorn hope of a "freebie", re-contacts with the oaken bar table...THUD-like.
(2)...Then there`s Traudel (TrowDEE, to her pals), reasonably pretty...though reasonably buxom...with the "incendiary" laugh:
...
...
...
Fill in the blanks, folks: Trippin` Trowdee; cos``if I can ever get this gal to do "Stand-Up" in Las Vegas....? -we`d make a fortune!...
Her kharma is infectious, so much so that she has a bar "smoking room" cluttered with about 30 people all belly (ache) jack-knife-splitting their sides with complete "Ebola" contagion...except when SHE stops, then the laughter subsides and peeters out...leaving everyone else wondering just what was soooo funny!?
The joke?
The punchline?
Did I commit a feaux-pas?
My fly, closed!?
Or,
am I an idiot?
(the latter is a yes/no question)
....Then she starts/erupts, AGAIN!
(repeat previous scenario)
Lazarus, naturally, is oblivious even to this!
(3)...There´s always Chess, domino, backgammon or Schlöck (dice with a leather cup) players.... (like watching Cricket or Baseball, leastways the board games)... exercising a mathmatical mental banality who exude minimum personality/ a complete lack of social graces/ take forever to drink ONE pint/could meet Singapore Sal and NEVER get a "hand job"...yet if they DID (have any sense of, er...Genius?) they`d be capable of accomplishing the greatest feats of Computer Fraud/white collar crime...worthy of Bernie Madoff...where upon they could invite ME into their gang and we`d all be living down in Rio de Janeiro (Jane`s River), giving the Capitol One/Bank of America Credit Card ("What`s in YOUR wallet?") -the FINGER!
(This fantasy could go on:)...drinking Maitaiss, Cuba Libres, Dom-whats-his-name? and chowing down on a delicious array of bottom feeders/tapas!
OK. Nuff said.
.....Authors note: More Portraits to come but I find myself in dire need of a morning`s libation: this part/chapter....to be continued/watch this space!...:)
c 2011. our man in europe/dave delacroix/late march/Mönchen-Gladbach/Germany
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: part 45: Eine Gitarre für Ava
Part 45: Eine Gitarre für Ava
She stoops, like most privleged daughters; stark beauty, tall, confident, with blonde hair, kosher fashion bordering on street-chic...and with darting eyes, acquiline nose, questioning - always intelligent - embellished charm...TO CONQUOR!
In past lives (and here: lol) she was probably Boudicca, Cleopatra, leastways Livia (wife of Augustus) or Nancy Reagan in embryo.
She, at the drop of a hat, will one day rule this crazy world, if not the proverbial "hood". It's a given. And no-one will quite know her, but nevertheless, her contemporaries, left resigned, sighing; a trail of affected, unsucessful beaus!
Newscaster?
The blonde weather lady?
Our Gal in Shanghai: CNN?
Model?
The Hollywood IT girl?
Paris? BEWARE!
...She butterflys....!
And presently, being friends of her "alters", I find myself her "guitar tutor", albeit, I have time & the inclination to show this "junger" a few choice 6 string chords.
YAY! CHORDS! (lol)
22 & eyes of blue......:)
c 2012/our man in europe/dave delacroix/germany
She stoops, like most privleged daughters; stark beauty, tall, confident, with blonde hair, kosher fashion bordering on street-chic...and with darting eyes, acquiline nose, questioning - always intelligent - embellished charm...TO CONQUOR!
In past lives (and here: lol) she was probably Boudicca, Cleopatra, leastways Livia (wife of Augustus) or Nancy Reagan in embryo.
She, at the drop of a hat, will one day rule this crazy world, if not the proverbial "hood". It's a given. And no-one will quite know her, but nevertheless, her contemporaries, left resigned, sighing; a trail of affected, unsucessful beaus!
Newscaster?
The blonde weather lady?
Our Gal in Shanghai: CNN?
Model?
The Hollywood IT girl?
Paris? BEWARE!
...She butterflys....!
And presently, being friends of her "alters", I find myself her "guitar tutor", albeit, I have time & the inclination to show this "junger" a few choice 6 string chords.
YAY! CHORDS! (lol)
22 & eyes of blue......:)
c 2012/our man in europe/dave delacroix/germany
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: part 44: Days of Wine & Moses
Part 44: Days of Wine & Moses
So BLOW ME!... So blow me over! You find me in Baden-Baden (so good they had to name it twice), German Spa & Casino mecca, immortalized by Dostoyevsky in "The Gambler"...and curious to walk in that genius's footsteps and experience those grandeoise, hallowed "temples to, er...Chance", I break out my dinner jacket and cleanest apparel, stash my guitar & wheelie-bag in some bushes, await an elegant "arriving" party of gambler-socialites-revellers, insinuate myself into the throng and pass on, IN, determined to score a free aperitiff & lose a good 10 euros!
Yup! I got the fever. I'm a player!
So BLOW ME over!... Where was I?....in the palatial casino, shimmy-shammying and I run into the Count, Stefan Van Der XXX (from Denmark) who in some long ago, grandiose Hotel on the banks of Loch Lomand (Scotland), we had met and played together as children, way back then...in the days of Moses...but HAD in fact kept in sporadic touch throughout our shared millenia.
Both now considerably older, he now the head of a sprawling family, I was invited to the nearby, lavish Hotel "Platinum" to sup & reminisce.
Count Stefan (I just call him Steve-0!) had followed in his dad's diplomatic footsteps (his "alter" had been the Dannish Ambassador to the U.K. back in the 1960's) and were both BE-mused to note that whilst HE had taken "the high road", I was - leastways presently - happy to navigate the alternative, a'la that bonnie Scottish tune: The Banks of Loch Lomand... (He was) Ever toothy, anaemic looking, a child blonde, his hair now raw silver and balding.
...I recall he had a beautiful younger sister; alas, she had passed away quite young.
(A moments silence)
We adjourn from the gaming throng to smoke panatellas and sup vino (Petrus something) and he has sway enough to secure us a private room in the hotel so as to carous the night away.
Back in the days of Moses my OWN parents were Scotland-mad and would drag me up there from England 3 or 4 times a year, B & B-ing it, sometimes lodging at reasonably extravagent places, as when I met the child-Count Steve-0! (and his sister) by the mystic and picture-esque Loch Lomand; a "Highland must-.see!"
I recall we spent a good 3 magical days together in that faraway time, playing pirates, Jacobites, hide & freak (always, with his sister). We were a Clan!
I had recently bought - in John O'Groats - a tartan-hilt "Scottish" dagger (a Skean Dhu); the clan's prized possession...
(Made in Sheffield)
But we got pretty good at throwning it around, as we were 3 (reasonably rich) lonely kids, left wild in the hotel grounds and surrounding woodlands.
When my parents decided to continue their Highland tour, Count Steve-O & sister remaining AT the Loch hotel for the summer season, it was a sad affair; I, waving from the back of my dad's sedan, Count Steve-O, dewey-eyed, his sister, outright bawling!
Everyone was torn apart...
....As now...the sun "comming up", lighting our all night conference-banquet room, ashtrays smouldering, the scent of fine claret, a hotel bee cracks a tall window using a hook on a pole, the windows, meters high....though Count Steve-O and my own responsibilities, separately calling, and AGAIN to say "goodbye"...and missing a MUCH LOVED sister, our eyes, bloodshot, yet steeled towards this new day.
Some Goodbyes kill you, and then kill you again: but ALL so softly.
c 2010 our man in europe/dave delacroix/Meerbusch-Lank/germany/march 21
So BLOW ME!... So blow me over! You find me in Baden-Baden (so good they had to name it twice), German Spa & Casino mecca, immortalized by Dostoyevsky in "The Gambler"...and curious to walk in that genius's footsteps and experience those grandeoise, hallowed "temples to, er...Chance", I break out my dinner jacket and cleanest apparel, stash my guitar & wheelie-bag in some bushes, await an elegant "arriving" party of gambler-socialites-revellers, insinuate myself into the throng and pass on, IN, determined to score a free aperitiff & lose a good 10 euros!
Yup! I got the fever. I'm a player!
So BLOW ME over!... Where was I?....in the palatial casino, shimmy-shammying and I run into the Count, Stefan Van Der XXX (from Denmark) who in some long ago, grandiose Hotel on the banks of Loch Lomand (Scotland), we had met and played together as children, way back then...in the days of Moses...but HAD in fact kept in sporadic touch throughout our shared millenia.
Both now considerably older, he now the head of a sprawling family, I was invited to the nearby, lavish Hotel "Platinum" to sup & reminisce.
Count Stefan (I just call him Steve-0!) had followed in his dad's diplomatic footsteps (his "alter" had been the Dannish Ambassador to the U.K. back in the 1960's) and were both BE-mused to note that whilst HE had taken "the high road", I was - leastways presently - happy to navigate the alternative, a'la that bonnie Scottish tune: The Banks of Loch Lomand... (He was) Ever toothy, anaemic looking, a child blonde, his hair now raw silver and balding.
...I recall he had a beautiful younger sister; alas, she had passed away quite young.
(A moments silence)
We adjourn from the gaming throng to smoke panatellas and sup vino (Petrus something) and he has sway enough to secure us a private room in the hotel so as to carous the night away.
Back in the days of Moses my OWN parents were Scotland-mad and would drag me up there from England 3 or 4 times a year, B & B-ing it, sometimes lodging at reasonably extravagent places, as when I met the child-Count Steve-0! (and his sister) by the mystic and picture-esque Loch Lomand; a "Highland must-.see!"
I recall we spent a good 3 magical days together in that faraway time, playing pirates, Jacobites, hide & freak (always, with his sister). We were a Clan!
I had recently bought - in John O'Groats - a tartan-hilt "Scottish" dagger (a Skean Dhu); the clan's prized possession...
(Made in Sheffield)
But we got pretty good at throwning it around, as we were 3 (reasonably rich) lonely kids, left wild in the hotel grounds and surrounding woodlands.
When my parents decided to continue their Highland tour, Count Steve-O & sister remaining AT the Loch hotel for the summer season, it was a sad affair; I, waving from the back of my dad's sedan, Count Steve-O, dewey-eyed, his sister, outright bawling!
Everyone was torn apart...
....As now...the sun "comming up", lighting our all night conference-banquet room, ashtrays smouldering, the scent of fine claret, a hotel bee cracks a tall window using a hook on a pole, the windows, meters high....though Count Steve-O and my own responsibilities, separately calling, and AGAIN to say "goodbye"...and missing a MUCH LOVED sister, our eyes, bloodshot, yet steeled towards this new day.
Some Goodbyes kill you, and then kill you again: but ALL so softly.
c 2010 our man in europe/dave delacroix/Meerbusch-Lank/germany/march 21
Monday, March 21, 2011
OUR MAN in EUROPE: dave delacroix: part 43: Axel's Castle
Part 43: Axel's Castle
Atop "La Phad", an ancient corner bar built around the time of Columbus's 1st voyage to the New World, though last named (La Phad) by Napoleon's troops who winter quartered in these parts prior to marching all the way to Moscow, Axel resides and hosts a weekly "Salon" of Deutsche bohemians, some distinguished, some not. Some? Downright infamous!
That...would be me.
We sit at a round table arrayed with Sekt, "alt" beers, cheese ot tatare on brutchen, 80's Brit pop, interspersed with J.S.Bach (the Brandenburgs) pumping. The chatter is festive; 6 ladies, 3 guys...and a black cat in his antique, oak-timbered chambers.
A tad like partying in the Tower of London or some other history soaked hospice; I feel quite honored to be invited and...AM invited by old Roman Holiday friend, Gabi, with whose family I am enjoying visiting for 2 weeks, at this time on the cusp of Spring, 30 minutes West of Dusseldorf.
Axel, recently retired, by x by, is a dead ringer for Benjamin Franklin, an ex-world traveler, fluent in several languages...and like ALL great hosts has a talent for currying the most interesting conversation-anecdotes from his guests; their glasses (beer, wine or champas) he never allows to stand empty.
It's a travellers moment.
Actually!!! - It's Axel's castle!
And like the moral-philosophy from the novel of the same name: why LIVE if we have EVERYTHING!?
...We drink, love, eat, talk feverishly, embrace...for tomorrow, we may die!... And, subject to the effects of Axel's imported Dominican (dark) Rum...we just very well might!....:)
c 2011 March/ourmanineurope/davedelacroix
Atop "La Phad", an ancient corner bar built around the time of Columbus's 1st voyage to the New World, though last named (La Phad) by Napoleon's troops who winter quartered in these parts prior to marching all the way to Moscow, Axel resides and hosts a weekly "Salon" of Deutsche bohemians, some distinguished, some not. Some? Downright infamous!
That...would be me.
We sit at a round table arrayed with Sekt, "alt" beers, cheese ot tatare on brutchen, 80's Brit pop, interspersed with J.S.Bach (the Brandenburgs) pumping. The chatter is festive; 6 ladies, 3 guys...and a black cat in his antique, oak-timbered chambers.
A tad like partying in the Tower of London or some other history soaked hospice; I feel quite honored to be invited and...AM invited by old Roman Holiday friend, Gabi, with whose family I am enjoying visiting for 2 weeks, at this time on the cusp of Spring, 30 minutes West of Dusseldorf.
Axel, recently retired, by x by, is a dead ringer for Benjamin Franklin, an ex-world traveler, fluent in several languages...and like ALL great hosts has a talent for currying the most interesting conversation-anecdotes from his guests; their glasses (beer, wine or champas) he never allows to stand empty.
It's a travellers moment.
Actually!!! - It's Axel's castle!
And like the moral-philosophy from the novel of the same name: why LIVE if we have EVERYTHING!?
...We drink, love, eat, talk feverishly, embrace...for tomorrow, we may die!... And, subject to the effects of Axel's imported Dominican (dark) Rum...we just very well might!....:)
c 2011 March/ourmanineurope/davedelacroix
Thursday, March 3, 2011
OUR MAN in EUROPE: part 42: Song of Bernadette
Part 42: Song of Bernadette
Her song was...as above...medium height, brunette, and a wallet full of plastic, a fast suitcase, and festive fashion.
...I knew her from Friday til Sunday. Perfume, lipstick and cared for Nothing.
Hank Williams: "I´m back in the Saddle, again..."
The Hotel in which we "stayed" was sufficient, though modest (a farewell to arms). I believe she came from Koln, Hamburg, somewhere "up North" and came down to warmer pastures (Freiburg) like a Floridian "Snow-bird" to get over some emotional catastrophe, thereby, espy-ing ME jamming on the streets...and the pieces...like an ancient jigsaw puzzle...fell together.
(In the Hotel) We "ordered out" continuously and - give Peace a Chance- never left our bed-hotel room; ostensibly, a "BED-IN"
Outside (winter in Germany) it rained incessantly...so as far as "jammin´ in the streets (for my daily bread), timing was everything.
Snippets of her Life story (Mrs Robinson´s younger sister) were forthcomming, approaching 40 yrs old, she had a BODY of work to divulge; stories, mes amis, never to follow.
We drank wine, ate, smoked
funny tobacco.
I think I smiled a löt whilst, all the time, tried to keep my mind - and everything else - ALERT. She was wanton, giving, but NO fool...
...But I liked her; sad sap, me.
She....alas...after 2 days of Bachannalia - headed back North...leaving me, mystified, with NO contact information, late on a Sunday afternoon; I, quitting the hotel room - paid up in full - till the following morning.
Hank Willams: "O for the love of Sunshine....!"
c 2011/dave thing/Europe/I´ll get back to ya....:)
Her song was...as above...medium height, brunette, and a wallet full of plastic, a fast suitcase, and festive fashion.
...I knew her from Friday til Sunday. Perfume, lipstick and cared for Nothing.
Hank Williams: "I´m back in the Saddle, again..."
The Hotel in which we "stayed" was sufficient, though modest (a farewell to arms). I believe she came from Koln, Hamburg, somewhere "up North" and came down to warmer pastures (Freiburg) like a Floridian "Snow-bird" to get over some emotional catastrophe, thereby, espy-ing ME jamming on the streets...and the pieces...like an ancient jigsaw puzzle...fell together.
(In the Hotel) We "ordered out" continuously and - give Peace a Chance- never left our bed-hotel room; ostensibly, a "BED-IN"
Outside (winter in Germany) it rained incessantly...so as far as "jammin´ in the streets (for my daily bread), timing was everything.
Snippets of her Life story (Mrs Robinson´s younger sister) were forthcomming, approaching 40 yrs old, she had a BODY of work to divulge; stories, mes amis, never to follow.
We drank wine, ate, smoked
funny tobacco.
I think I smiled a löt whilst, all the time, tried to keep my mind - and everything else - ALERT. She was wanton, giving, but NO fool...
...But I liked her; sad sap, me.
She....alas...after 2 days of Bachannalia - headed back North...leaving me, mystified, with NO contact information, late on a Sunday afternoon; I, quitting the hotel room - paid up in full - till the following morning.
Hank Willams: "O for the love of Sunshine....!"
c 2011/dave thing/Europe/I´ll get back to ya....:)
OUR MAN in EUROPE: part 41: DARK of HEARTNESS (Part 1)
Part 41: Dark of Heartness (part 1)
Once upon a time in the West
........
Dr. Hunter S. Thompson: "Nice to see you, Dave..."
DD: "What´s with the upturned, bandaged thumb?"
Hunter: "...I was cooking a fish...but it was still alive."
DD: "The thumb?"
H: "The fish, idiot!"
DD: "Do you have a pond?"
H: "Pond?"
DD: "...For the fresh fish...?"
H: (coughing)...Nooo. It was a "Bhudistic"... fish."
DD: "Bhudistic fish?..."
H: "Yeah. They keep comming back!"
DD: "No shit!?"
martins room, augsburg, frickin deutscheland, our man, dave guy, lol...
Once upon a time in the West
........
Dr. Hunter S. Thompson: "Nice to see you, Dave..."
DD: "What´s with the upturned, bandaged thumb?"
Hunter: "...I was cooking a fish...but it was still alive."
DD: "The thumb?"
H: "The fish, idiot!"
DD: "Do you have a pond?"
H: "Pond?"
DD: "...For the fresh fish...?"
H: (coughing)...Nooo. It was a "Bhudistic"... fish."
DD: "Bhudistic fish?..."
H: "Yeah. They keep comming back!"
DD: "No shit!?"
martins room, augsburg, frickin deutscheland, our man, dave guy, lol...
OUR MAN in EUROPE: part 41: a short history of Rock & Roll
Part 41: a short history of Rock & Roll
...What did Bob Dylan really think when he first heard (that disco-esque):
"Whad´a´ya gonna do...if you REALLY wanna dance...(with your back up ´gainst the wall)?`..."
c 2011, mar/davedelacroix/OLD SIMON bar/Freiburg/our man in europe
...What did Bob Dylan really think when he first heard (that disco-esque):
"Whad´a´ya gonna do...if you REALLY wanna dance...(with your back up ´gainst the wall)?`..."
c 2011, mar/davedelacroix/OLD SIMON bar/Freiburg/our man in europe
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