If you'd like to lie by the Arno under olive trees and watch the keys drop and disturb the still water all the while listening to The Dining Rooms, if you'd like to watch the sun come up while you wonder where the night went all the while listening to Nick Cave,if you'd like to take a trip where there is no sand; ok, a lttle sand, if Damien Rice rings a bell or if he doesn't..if you would like to golf, if you'd like to exchange ipod's for one day, if you'd like to read my blog,if you'd like to put spontaneity to good use, if you'd like to have sushi at Tri's or head off to Lemeac after 10, if the days never seem long enough to enjoy them as if they never could end ,if you'd like to meet me in the middle of a lazy ,hazy, sunny afternoon on a terrace, if you'd like to head off to Holder's, if you'd like to listen to some Biddles's jazz, if you would like to watch "Il Ladri di Biciclete", if you'd like to head off to Excentris and pick a movie, any movie... in an unexplained moment of unquestioned exasperation, you'd like to head off to Parc Lafontaine and stand on a picnic table and sing (yell?) your favorite song lyric..if you'd like to tell me about your favorite movie, as long as you don't mention the words Rocky (Rocky 1,ok) or Halloween (egad!), if you'd like to sit across from me and read while I read. if you like dating, if you pay no attention to my rebellious approach to punctuation,%$..if laughter does not come at a price but from an antique shop that lets you have anything that has 3 legs or 5 wheels for one rip-roaring joke-telling session (knock knock jokes are banned unless it doesn't involve fridges, oranges or isabella)..If you like L. Cohen, so do I, ...so would I.

ci vediamo

You get a shiver in the dark
Its been raining in the park but meantime
South of the river you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowing dixie double four time
You feel all right when you hear that music ring

You step inside but you dont see too many faces
Coming in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Too much competition too many other places
But not too many horns can make that sound
Way on downsouth way on downsouth london town

You check out guitar george he knows all the chords
Mind hes strictly rhythm he doesnt want to make it cry or sing
And an old guitar is all he can afford
When he gets up under the lights to play his thing

And harry doesnt mind if he doesnt make the scene
Hes got a daytime job hes doing alright
He can play honky tonk just like anything
Saving it up for friday night
With the sultans with the sultans of swing

And a crowd of young boys theyre fooling around in the corner
Drunk and dressed in their best brown baggies and their platform soles
They dont give a damn about any trumpet playing band
It aint what they call rock and roll
And the sultans played creole

And then the man he steps right up to the microphone
And says at last just as the time bell rings
thank you goodnight now its time to go home
And he makes it fast with one more thing
we are the sultans of swing

..and now, to relieve dating stress and lessen the tension sites such as this can create, here are some song lyrics and poems for your enjoyment and pleasure:


who are those
that ask for my life in prose
who are they
that ask me where i stay
who is she
that loves tuscany
who is he
that quotes poetry
who are we
that "breathtake" the scenery



You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there's diamonds and pearls in your hair

You live in a fancy appartement
Of the Boulevard of St. Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head

I've seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does

When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pines
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan, on your back and on your legs

When the snow falls you're found in St. Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon Brandy
But you never get your lips wet

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do

Your name is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for chistmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh haha

They say that when you get married
It'll be to a millionaire
But they don't realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, they give a damn

But where do you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head

I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly brown tags, yes they try

So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
'Cause I know you still bear
the scar, deep inside, yes you do

I know where you go to my lovely
When you're alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
'Cause I can look inside your head

`I know it all: my secret ache will anger you in its confession. What scorn I see in the expression that your proud glance is sure to take! What do I want? what am I after, stripping my soul before your eyes! I know to what malicious laughter my declaration may give rise! ``I noticed once, at our chance meeting, in you a tender pulse was beating, yet dared not trust what I could see. I gave no rein to sweet affection: what held me was my predilection, my tedious taste for feeling free. And then, to part us in full measure, Lensky, that tragic victim, died... From all sweet things that gave me pleasure, since then my heart was wrenched aside; freedom and peace, in substitution for happiness, I sought, and ranged unloved, and friendless, and estranged. What folly! and what retribution! ``No, every minute of my days, to see you, faithfully to follow, watch for your smile, and catch your gaze with eyes of love, with greed to swallow your words, and in my soul to explore your matchlessness, to seek to capture its image, then to swoon before your feet, to pale and waste... what rapture! {222} ``But I'm denied this: all for you I drag my footsteps hither, yonder; I count each hour the whole day through; and yet in vain ennui I squander the days that doom has measured out. And how they weigh! I know about my span, that fortune's jur

Well, you've got your diamonds and you've got your pretty clothes
And the chauffeur drives your car
You let everybody know
But don't play with me, 'cause you're playing with fire

Your mother she's an heiress, owns a block in Saint John's Wood
And your father'd be there with her
If he only could
But don't play with me, 'cause you're playing with fire

Your old man took her diamond's and tiaras by the score
Now she gets her kicks in Stepney
Not in Knightsbridge anymore
So don't play with me, 'cause you're playing with fire

Now you've got some diamonds and you will have some others
But you'd better watch your step, girl
Or start living with your mother
So don't play with me, 'cause you're playing with fire
So don't play with me, 'cause you're playing with fire
`I write to you -- no more confession is needed, nothing's left to tell.
I know it's now in your discretion with scorn to make my world a hell.
``But, if you've kept some faint impression of pity for my wretched state,
you'll never leave me to my fate.
At first I thought it out of season to speak; believe me: of my shame
you'd not so much as know the name,
if I'd possessed the slightest reason to hope that even once a week
I might have seen you, heard you speak
on visits to us, and in greeting I might have said a word, and then thought, day and night, and thought again about one thing, till our next meeting. But you're not sociable, they say: you find the country godforsaken; though we... don't shine in any way, our joy in you is warmly taken. ``Why did you visit us, but why? Lost in our backwoods habitation I'd not have known you, therefore I would have been spared this laceration. In time, who knows, the agitation of inexperience would have passed, I would have found a friend, another, and in the role of virtuous mother and faithful wife I'd have been cast. {100} ``Another!... No, another never in all the world could take my heart! Decreed in highest court for ever... heaven's will -- for you I'm set apart; and my whole life has been directed and pledged to you, and firmly planned: I know, Godsent one, I'm protected until the grave by your strong hand: you'd made appearance in my dreaming; unseen, already you were dear, my soul had heard your voice ring clear, stirred at your gaze, so strange, so gleaming, long, long ago... no, that could be no dream. You'd scarce arrived, I reckoned to know you, swooned, and in a second all in a blaze, I said: it's he! ``You know, it's true, how I attended, drank in your words when all was still -- helping the poor, or while I mended with balm of prayer my torn and rended spirit that anguish had made ill. At this midnight of my condition, was it not you, dear apparition, who in the dark came flashing through and, on my bed-head gently leaning, with love and comfort in your meaning, spoke words of hope? But who are you: the guardian angel of tradition, or s