Our Man in Europe: WATCHTOWER: No. 17: "She walks by night...."

Our Man in Europe: WATCHTOWER: No. 17: "She walks by night..."

She walks by night, Satin skirt and heels. She walks by night; for YOUR sad love.
She walks by night; lipstick guile. The tears of a CLOWN cannot claim her glory; an EVIL EYE? -no-way-Jose! -can frame her symmetry.

Personal Gods? (where's that frickin cell-phone!?)  -does she call? Heroines from a bygone Age; or a Biblical study? A study that defies LOCKS that new keys, in fact, DO UNLOCK; yet, that that no new lover can penetrate...?
Incomprehensible is the name of "access".

She is JUDITH, careless. In one hand? A righteous sword. In the other? The decapitated head of Holofernes.

She walks by night...for YOUR sad love. In the morning, she will fold her Satin skirt: To her still sleeping bambino, she says: "God bless. God bless."


c 2012/davedelacroix/lord borgo esq/piacenza/italia...

OUR MANBO in EUROPE: Watchtower: No 16: Dostoyevsky v. Tolstoi

Our Man in Europe: Dave Delacroix: Watchtower: No 16: "Dostoyevsky v. Tolstoi" (famous conversations-in a bar)...


(T.) "My WOMEN are all tragic."

(D.) "So are my brothers."

(T.) "Vodka?"

(D.) "It's a crime."

(T.) "It's a punishment."

(D.) "Actually? It's a potrato."

(T.) "A potato?"

(D.) "VODKA!!!"

GOGOL walks, unexpectedly, into the bar
(Happy Harry's Borscht Saloon)

He sez: "ANY DEAD SOULS in here?... 
"I'm making a list!"


c 2012/davedelacroix/lord borgo/"I'm on Facebook!!!"/piacenza/Italia/big gig at CIRCOLO RECREATIVO VIK/sept 29th: be there or die youngish...:)

Our Man in Europe: DAVE DELACROIX: 'along the Watchtower: No. 14: "The Road to Rivergaro."

No. 14: (Watchtower) "...the road to Rivergaro."


The road to Rivergaro? Catch the wrong bus? It'll take you SOUTH of your mind. Don't depend on the weather, and the small villages that you pass...have seen you a 1,000 times before.

Out of your "Gulf Stream". thus;
:you arrive upon some distant shore...along with ALL your baggage - NO "Phoning Home E.T"- - and quite alone.

The Road to Rivergaro, SOMETIMES utters your name. At the "Galateria" where you hosted three young girls whose OWN road has yet to begin?.
You languished in Life's General-ship. Your nubile Soldiers lapped expectant, at their iced cream cones.
There was some chat/variety TV show background.
(Just WHAT do they call these entertainmens/when they DO: can we ressourect the NAZIS to wipe them out!?... The T.V. Shows, that is?)
"Are you Jewish?" -she says?
"Am I Jewish?" - he says..
 "Well!?!" she demands.
"JEEZE!? I TORT I WUZ A MEXICANO!!!"
(the Talk show)
...Yakkin' in Italian, of course.

 The GULF of General-ship is an abyss. Pass an IDEA from one to another? It becomes distasteful, anathama, a Promise, a Switchblade, a JOB,  a MISSION, 3 years at COLLEGE!!!... or an engagement ring (costing about €20,000) which YOU DON'T GOT!!!......till, of course, you get to the "Road to Rivergaro"  ...and  possibly,  till/when  SHE or HE  beckons you:; "encora-encora!"  sirens:...and claims your name.
And claims your fame.


 c davedelacroix/lord (sir) lord Borgo/ sept- 12/magnifico cavillieri-pls send costumes"""...:)

 

Our Man in Europe: WATCHTOWER: No. 13: The Shadow of our Sins.

Our Man in Europe: WATCHTOWER: No 13: The Shadow of our Sins,


...Less you stab yourself in the arm or leg, a predictable wound and a permanent scar; the wounds in the mind, unseen, are epidemic. Heads steer the body and yet, perpetual, blood flows. There's NO bandage, no TIME, but ONLY time, Timeless, and NO cure.

In this Hospital of a Life the Patients have taken control.. Doctors? They just mop the floors and fill out Questionnaires. The Spastic advises the Athlete, the Novice, the Sage; The Fool, the King!
Emperor Napoleon once consulted a local shepherd on "the lie of the land" and decidedly LOST the battle of Waterloo.

My old, dearly departed Mother once told me: "GOD works in mysterious ways...and our SINS carry long shadows."
Like most folks who are lucky (?) enough to experience the Autumn OF life; I sit in the shade.
Oddly? I get to laugh a lot. and, God-damn-it! -if I don't keep gettin' to meet O.K. personalities; the stuff of Life's Inspiration prevails.

No need to write me, "Y'all!" My Moral compass MAY be "out to lunch"; but in the "Shadows of my Sins", the Almighty - perhaps? - figured I paid MY half of the bill....?

"OH! Fuck me baby! OH! Fuck me baby!"
(Beatrice from Calabria came by)
"OH! Fuck me baby! OH! Fuck me baby!"


c 2012/dave delacroix/lord borgo esq./piacenza/italia/feelin' groovy.

OUR MAN in EUROPE: WATCHTOWER No.12: "Spatchelor!"

Our Man in Europe: WATCHTOWER: No. 12: "Spatchelor."


I break down (twice). It was a Thursday (Sheffield Thursday? -Nope).  I go buy - in lieu of my "grande Americano Amici" arriving: I go BUY a Spatchelor (€1.97) to flip the "SUNNY SIDES UP!" (eggs)... Actrually, in my Euro-Exile I've become quite "deft" with a table spoon "con oile di olive".
I was always flippant.
There's that.
....I'm trying to remember the 1970's when every cool cat wore Kaktans, had Sitar music rusting on thee olde "La Stereo", and an abode swampt with the ozone of brown rice mixed with Cinnamon sticks. Incense candles, of course. Pour it ON! What WERE those people thinking? And - lol - where are they now?...

My next (2nd of 2) breakdowns included breaking one of Italy's Cardinal rules. I went out "busking" on Piacenza's main pedestrian drag during the Holy THREE hour lunch break.
Cops showed up. In droves. In THIS instance? The CITY cops, NOT the Carrabineri. The CITY cops, has I've previously mentioned - in this book-blog - are akin to "Barney Fife" and allowed ONLY to carry ONE BULLET - in case of rabid Nuns - in their dress uniform pocket.
Anyways; they show up. Apparently I'm disturbing the beoguiosie whilst they Siesta: the Barney Fifes/CITY cops siren skid-screech, onto the scene in their HOT ROD "Smart Cars", jump out, then with legs akimbo, draw and aim their - unloaded - Glock 9mm's, aim them at ME and start yelling: "PUT THE WEAPON ON THE GROUND!!!"

I was a tad confused. I had no weapon. My Spannish guitar (€35) I placed before me and put my hands over my head in complete sardonic subservience.

Cut a long story short? I confessed - to the Barney Fife's - to being callouslly flaglant as to Italy's "Siesta" laws/customs and that INDEED I had a "concealed Spatchelor" in my "piccolini cucina/kitchen" which, given my liberty, I would produce at Police HQ (IL QUESTURA) on Monday-ish.


c 2012/davedelacroix/LORD BORGO/Piacenza/Italia/August 1st. Monsoon, kiddoes. But cool...:)

Our Man in Europe (place near FINLAND): watchtower: nO. 11: "richard lll" APRES, bILL sHAKESPEARE...

oUR dUDE IN eUROPE: nO: 11: WATCHTOWER: "Richard III" (apres Billy Shakespeare....)

Sheffield Steel, Newcastle Coal, Derby Porcelain and all the the good "bitter" (beer) the towns of the (river) Avon can seduce that WE, Sons of History, fans of Sheffield Wednesday (soccer team) and the NOBLE game of RUGBY -can produce.

It's "seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness"; ask anyone? Xmas is around the corner: "What clock? What a'clock!? Do I hear ticking?"

Lately, whilst - in lieu of money - I've been throwing people's wrist watches BACK at them, people seem dismayed. They are, perhaps, far more intelligent; more than I can suspect.....?
My gal, Sylvia? She just laughs. She has a GYRO that defies time or space. She's an intelligent woman. When she laughs, she echoes: "Sheffield Steel, Newcastle Coal, Derby Porcelain and ALL the good brew that U can meet. WE ROAR!!!

"WE are the prisoners of the world." she says; wrapped in an exotic silk robe/smoking a "fattie".

The next morning? (this IS a true story). Alas, alas, alas! She is gone. Quite dead.... Cops/Ambulence/coroner, etc.

She left me, only with a PEN.

"In THIS dream kingdom, your kiss, pillows and gentles
far from the callous world of indifference.
Outside? MINDS SPIN.
Let them."

A Stretch Limo!!! A Stretch Limousine!!! Half my Kingdomn for a "Stretcch!!!"

c 2012. davedelacroix/LORD BORGO esq./Piacacenza/Italia/found a new brew outlet for Sundays on the Via Roma....:)

OUR MAN in EROPE: "WATCHTOWER": No. 10: "I win the Noble Prize, again..."

Our Man in Europe/WATCHTOWER: No. 10: "I win the Noble Prize, again..."


So; well, whatchagonnado?... I win the Noble Prize again (third time) from those guys up in Finland.. It's a blessing. I need the money. I'm also ALL out of writing paper and reduced to writing on book flap-jackets: Shakespeare publications are my fave. At the back? There's gallosches of "note" pages. "Billy's" work, of course, is just full of quotations. (I know. I know.) but, remember, there's "gallosches" of note paper in the back!

...I knew/met an interesting guy in JACKS-FLA (Jacksonville-Florida), long time back. Think hot/humid/palm meadow bugs/Spannish moss/iced beers on the veranda..... He was a Wizard. Played a sonorious guitar (Fender Strat) and had a beautiful - with Soul! - mother. I thought of her like a big sister; we clicked.... Whilst a guest in their Savannah type mansion abode, "Momsie" and I used to buzz off (whilst the Wizard slept) every Sunday morning, cross the "DRY" County Line to go get a Bloody Mary. It became a tradition.

...Sunday morning? DON'T "go" to Chapel: GO TO CHAPEL. In this case - across the DRY, aforesaid, County Line: a tavern called THE SIX PACK, THE SOAK AND SUDS, or DON'T TELL MY WIFE I'M HERE! (Burritoes: $1.00!!!)

One Sunday morn, the bar-gal looked particularly glum. Momsie  and I  both enquired...?
"My Uncle," she said, dewy eyed, "LEE VAN CLIFF/Spaghetti Westerns/Movie Star..." (we held our breath) "...just died...."

My FIRST thought was to put out an A.P.B. on Clint Eastwood. Plus! I knew where he lived! (Carmel, California: he's the Mayor of the town, for chrissakes!)...and is KNOWN to weild a MAGNUM handgun which, when discharged: "Will blow your head KLEEN OFF!"...
Yup. YOU got it. I stayed mumm.
"Lee's dead?" -Momsie.
Sadly, the bar-gal nodded.
"Was it Cancer?" I, as it were, optimistically enquired.
"No dice, Dave (she knew my name) came the reply. Adding: "3 months ago some Quack told him if he didn't quit smoking & drinking "U'er gonna croak!"
"And?" asked Momsie.
"He went cold turkey. Felt like shit. 3 month later? Dead."

Naturally, I was outraged. SO was Momsie.
My Noble Prize (3rd time) for INTOLERANCE? I like to think extends not ONLY to organized religion, Scientologists in general, Jack Daniels mixed with Cocoa-cola, a Police man without a Classical education...but ALSO to that classic "Professional Opinion" dispensed by Doctors, Dentists  and reasonably sober Airline Pilots.... It's only OPINION, mind; not a DICTUM.
OK. Now? Let me tell U a story.

c2012/davedelacroix/lord borgo/piacenza/italia/days of wine & utility bills....:)