Friday, December 30, 2011

What if. . . . .

Do you ever sit and think; what if? What if you had never
said the first hello. Or what if your paths never crossed?
What if you kept your mouth shut and just let things pass?
What if you had just five more minutes? What if you could
turn back time and make it all stand still, where would
your life be? Better? Worse? Less confused? More confused?
Happier? Or sadder?

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Paradise Lost

'At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman,
and these hills, the softness of the sky, the outline
of these trees at this very minute lose the illusory
meaning with which we had clothed them, henceforth
more remote than a lost paradise . . . that denseness
and that strangeness of the world is absurd.' ~ Albert Camus

Sunday, December 18, 2011


In a culture that promotes quick fixes and immediate
gratification, it is much too easy to lose sight of
one's objectives, when so many temptations invite
us to fail. What is this sense of entitlement that
pervades society today? Has the whole concept of
delayed gratification gone out the window?
What are we teaching our children, when we ourselves
cannot resist yielding to each momentary desire, each
of-the-moment whim?
Discipline weighs ounces, regret weighs tons.
The secret to overcoming temptation is to remember
what you want. Your objective must hang, like
a banner, over all that you do. ~ Aurora Lynn

Saturday, December 3, 2011

'Ethereal Spread' . . . a Sunday Soiree‏

On the drive down, I noticed the barren streets - considering the sky
was this shiny, dark blue hue backlit by these most magnificent stars.
It was 'Ethereal' and so achingly beautiful, my heart skipped.
I thought, how grateful I am for the abundance in my life. I have joy.
I have passion and meaning. I have incredible people to love, and who
return that love in unique and wonderful ways every day that I am
graced with life. I want for nothing. I am truly blessed!

'The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously,
drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.' ~ Henry Miller

Kisses ... dancing tongues ... eyes closed, hugs and kisses, tightening
of hands, groans of pleasure... and then... only the silence of the
moon, the only spectator of this night of culinary opuses.

'When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the
conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my
talent for absorbing positive knowledge' ~ Albert Einstein

I often wondered how a Sunday Soiree, rather than Friday or Saturday
would turnout. Would people still come . . . it is, after all, outside the box.
But wasn't that the idea . . . inspired by Steve Jobs? And further instilled in
me by Madame Globe then, seconded by The Attorney. The ladies mused!
Listening to Sting's 'Fragile', as the driver makes his way to Saint-Denis,
and nearly every time I hear this register of strings. . .I'm drinking the wild
air and feeling transported, hovering over and through an imagination and
command of characters, not since Dickens. The very gentle soul capable and
conscious of 'hearing' me and still, I sing. Is it not the plight, the dance, the
way ripples spread on a lake as fog settles over westward and after burns
an amber glowing candle inside a vat of stone hewed by some fellows at the
corner of Carré Saint-Louis. These images I see contribute to the fabric
of this 'Ethereal' evening.

'I got lost in the night, without the light of your eyelids, and when the night
surrounded me I was born again: I was the owner of my own darkness.' ~ Pablo Neruda

As we turn on Saint-Laurent, I watch as dwellers are returning home like
flakes floating down The Main. After a prolonged absence, I returned to
a familiar place . . . The Attorney and myself observed as we perused the
dimly lit restaurant, Stan Getz playing 'Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars'... the
night was definitely quiet and mellow and there was a joy in the air. 'It's good
to be home!'
We were the first to arrive . . . along with a newcomer, the enchanting Olga,
who hails from the Ukraine, which led to a colorful lesson in history and
geography, once Elbina (My Meryl . . . who is also from Russia but not Russian)
arrived and settled next to Olga.
Once upon a time, on any given night, there was no missing the action, the
eye candy and enticing food at this hip spot on the main. It is the space with
the most cutting-edge décor . . . The hot spot that boasts the latest celebrity
sightings. With their comely waitresses, groovy colour schemes, and up-to-
the-minute menus, Globe has always been considered 'hot' on all of these
fronts. While some of its competitors have cuter waitresses and better chairs,
Globe always succeeded by offering the full package.
I had practically lived at the Globe for most of the 1990s'- and for the first
ten years of the Millenium, sporadically I always returned for one reason
or another. But in the dawning of this new decade, it was no longer 'My Globe',
but nonetheless, tonight we were going to be spoiled like prodigal children.

'Come quickly! I am tasting stars!' ~ Dom Perignon (1638-1714) proclaimed
when he took his first sip of champagne.

I was stationed at the end of this long train of tables, setup plump in the middle
of the restaurant. I had not sat at the head of the table in some time, but after
having gone through a round of musical chairs . . . it was the most comfortable
hamlet. While waiting for the rest of the group to materialize, we were served
Prosecco accompanied with oysters on ice . . . I felt like The Sheik from those
Rudolf Valentino films (Ha! Ha!). A mélange of baked Miso & Maple oysters
soon followed that were particularly innovative and tangy on the palate. More
Prosecco, please!

'I want to make wines that harmonize with food - wines that almost hug your
tongue with gentleness.' ~ Robert Mondavi

Monsieur Globe's choice for our red was a smooth velvety 'Campo Viejo
Crianza Rioja', dry medium-bodied and woody. It's the light texture of this
wine that makes it a pleasure to drink. The white was a 'Kendall Jackson
'Summation' Sauvignon Blanc. This Chardonnay blend mingles refreshing
flavors of honeydew melon, apricot, pink grapefruit and white pepper. Added
hints of honeysuckle and a creamy mouthfeel result in a soft, dry wine.
The second course was a choice of Mesclun salad with pears, endives, almonds
with Chardonnay vinaigrette. The leaves were seasoned just so it was another
burst of flavors in your mouth. The grilled quail with honey, corn bell pepper
and pide was perfectly sauteed . . . pink and tender . . . it melted in your
mouth . . .a difficult undertaking for victuals.
Then for an 'Entremets', Jean-François took our tastebuds on a voyage to
Italy with devilish black trumpet mushroom Cavatelli sprinkled with truffle oil
and topped with a poached egg. I, for one, had seconds . . . Empyrean!
Then came our main courses . . . A roasted half-chicken from Voltigeurs' farm,
with these appetizing Pont-Neuf frites and cole slaw. I usually never partake
of cole slaw but this one contained the correct portion of milk to salt to cabbage.
Beef short ribs were perfectly seasoned and braised with grilled leeks and sesame.
The Attorney swore by it! The 'Fish of The Day' was a grilled Halibut with shiitake,
ginger, broccoli in a dashi broth. It was incredibly moist and delectably delicious.
We finished off our wine with a platter of whole grilled Camembert . . .a nice way
to culminate this culinary carousel. We had our coffee with these dark chocolate
brownies with walnuts and salted caramel sauce. I felt like a kid in a candy store!

As is the case with each gathering . . .the dynamics and especially the landscape
changes, and not more apparent than this recent eclectic ensemble. I'm a big
proponent of evolution and this group has definitely evolved. It was different
and unique, as they all are, but this time, due to the 'Ethereal' theme it was
more varied and discerning. It's similar to an ever-changing living organism that
grows as it absorbs particles along its journey. Like the ever so lovely Maureen
(My New Megan Fox) who traveled from Saint-Sauveur to partake of this splendid
soiree. We recently met online and when she sauntered in, the lady raptured in
smoke had these curves that could summon a fellow to stand up . . . which I almost

'Most of the confidence which I appear to feel, especially when influenced by wine,
is only a pretense.' ~ Tennessee Williams

A special mention to Virginia Woolf, who looked absolutely bewitching, brought an
entourage of delicious ladies . . . such as the thespian extraordinaire Marjean Holden
(no relation to William Holden). In my head, I was singing once again. . . .'L.A. Woman'.

'Beauty alone gives no guarantee for happiness. One should rather strive for elegance,
grace and style.' ~ Audrey Hepburn

The always engaging and beautiful Nathalie Di, who looked more youthful than
I remembered, and Virginia's friend Shirley from the South Shore, who came with
her boy toy. How's that for youthfulness!?!

'An inordinate passion for pleasure is the secret of remaining young.' ~ Oscar Wilde

Hats off to the boys ... The Photographer, Julio, Domenic and Benjamin, for
holding court in their respective enclaves . . . and to some of the other regulars.
The Attorney, Madame Sothebys, who came without Monsieur. My Meryl, (who
is a makeup artist to the stars) never lets me down. Recognized our waitress-
in-training, Nastassia, as an ingénue she applied her craft on during a film shoot.
How cool is that!?! Montreal is such a small town.
There was a small group as well of dear, sweet friends who came for drinks,
Mena, Anna, Olympia, Pina, Dino and La Regina. We seem to have amassed
quite a troupe of movers and shakers. Thank you, my friends. 'I'm as happy
as a little girl!'

I would be remise not to mention the tremendous service, from our delightful
waitresses, Marie-Eve, Andrea, Justine and of course Nastassia. Our Man Friday,
Michael Bukacheski was very gracious, attentive and a true gentlemen. Madame
Globe helped me with the menu and other details. Finally, chef Jean-François
Baril who again and again proves that he truly is a culinary connoisseur of the
highest echelons.

'There are times in life when we set our sights on something that's deeply
important to us yet, when we hit roadblocks, setbacks, or failure, we make
a premature decision to give up. The message this week is simple – if you
know in your heart that your goal is right, be persistent.' ~ Cheryl Richardson

'Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.' ~ Dr. Seuss

* From Where I Sit!
November 27, 2011

Monday, November 28, 2011

The Muse (s)‏

In Greek mythology . . . The Muses are a sisterhood of goddesses,
their number set at nine, who embody the arts and inspire the
creation with their graces through remembered and improvised song
and stage, writing, traditional music, and dance.
The daughters of Zeus, king of the gods, and Mnemosyne, Goddess
of memory, were denizens of Mount Parnassus, born in Pieria which
is described as 'watered by the springs flowing from Olympus'.

Truman Capote noted . . . The Muses are heard – every time a
poet writes, an artist draws, or, so we are told, a designer
drapes. Homer invoked this ethereal sorority at the opening of
'The Odyssey', and Dante summoned them before plunging into
his 'Inferno' . . . 'O Muses . . . aid me now!'

* Calliope (the 'beautiful of speech'): chief of the muses and
muse of epic or heroic poetry.
* Clio (the 'glorious one'): muse of history.
* Erato (the 'amorous one'): muse of love or erotic poetry,
lyrics, and marriage songs.
* Euterpe (the 'well-pleasing'): muse of music and lyric poetry.
* Melpomene (the 'chanting one'): muse of tragedy.
* Polyhymnia or Polymnia (the singer of many hymns): muse of
sacred song, oratory, lyric, singing and rhetoric.
* Terpsichore (the one who delights in dance): muse of choral
song and dance.
* Thalia (the 'blossoming one'): muse of comedy and bucolic poetry.
* Urania (the 'celestial one'): muse of astronomy.

Somewhere along the millennia the immortal Muses morphed into
flesh-and-blood females, capable of holding all manner of Great
Men in their thrall. Muses are explicitly used in modern English
to refer to an inspiration, as when one cites his/her own artistic
For a time Courbet and Whistler could barely load up their
brushes without the guiding presence of their auburn-tressed muse,
Jo Hifferman. The Viennese seductress Alma Mahler famously
impelled Gustav Mahler to compose, Walter Gropius to build, and
Oskar Kokoschka who went so far as to commission a life-size doll
of her-to paint.

Around the same moment that art became abstract, The Muses migrated
from artists' studios to couturiers' salons. Poiret's career did
not long outlast his marriage to his obliging muse Denise, whom
the fabled designer at one point literally locked up in a gilded
cage. Givenchy recalled that 'something magic happened' the instant
his symbiotic ideal, Audrey Hepburn, slipped on that first ensemble
in his showroom. Yves Saint Laurent, for his part, assembled around
him a formidable muse entourage (Loulou de la Falaise, Betty Catroux,
and Paloma Picasso), personifying a distinct facet of his taste.

* From Where I Sit!
November 15, 2011

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Restaurant Review - 'Au Petit Extra'‏

It has been said there are two truly authentic 'Parisian' bistros
that represent Montreal's unique spirit. The first, at the high-end
of the spectrum, is 'L'Express' on St.Denis, made up of local Quebec
celebrities and the French business hierarchy. The other, situated
on an unglamorous strip of Ontario Street, in the heart of the Gay
village, across from a gas station, is 'Au Petit Extra'. It has been
the haunt of the Plateau Mont Royal smart set for close to 20 years.
Considering the location is a little off the beaten track, and
parking is almost non-existant, the dining room is always crowded.
So much so that we sipped wine at the bar, the ideal spot for soaking
up the ambiance, while they prepped our table. Dinner here is like
a big party, packed to the rafters with jovial regulars. This expansive
neighborhood bistro has always been remarkably warm and friendly.

Though I had not dined at 'Au Petit Extra' before, once seated,
I'm transported to Paris. The claw-footed banquettes, black-lacquered
bistro chairs, blackboards and large ornate mirrors would have me
believing Carole Bouquet and Gérard Depardieu might be sharing
a bottle of Bordeaux at a corner table. Picture the movie 'Something's
Gotta Give' starring Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton. Close to the
end of the film, while in Paris, Jack interrupts Keaton and Keanu
Reeves celebrating a birthday at a bistro . . . that's 'Au Petit
Extra'. You look outside and you think it's 'rue du Bois de Boulogne'.
Yet, if this was Paris, the waitress would be miffed at my request
for a larger wine glass, instead Frenchwoman Francine met my request
with a gracious, 'Bien sur . . . M. Franck'.
True to bistro form, 'Au Petit Extra', offers an impressive wine
list comprising of well-priced French bottles including some privately
imported goodies. With Francine's help we chose 'La Madera' St.Chinian,
a dynamic little red well-suited to the variety of dishes. St.Chinian
is a region or appellation, that produces very harsh wines, a little
coarse, according to one dinner companion. A good bottle of wine is
an excellent opportunity to elevate your meal a notch or two.

'And wine can of their wits the wise beguile, make the sage frolic,
and the serious smile.' ~ Alexander Pope

With the wine she brings baskets of bread, which they bake in the
kitchen. Sinful! The meal kicks off with a choice of soup or salad.
In my opinion, the better choice is salad which is topped with grilled
vegetables. The appetizer lineup counts a half-dozen dishes, including
a pleasant snail sauté enhanced with a tomato compote. The most
successful dishes are the house classics, a creamy and perfectly
seasoned 'torchon de foie gras volaille', and a 'salade de chévre'
consisting of a generous round of grilled goat's cheese paired with
a green salad laced with mustard vinaigrette.
Main courses are also simple and classic bistro favorites, along
with some newer additions. 'Pavé de thon rouge au sesame', every bite
offers fresh and vibrant flavors complemented by the various textures
of the fish.

'Even more importantly, it's wine, food and the arts. Incorporating
those three enhances the quality of life.' ~ Robert Mondavi

A meal at 'Au Petit Extra' is about much more than the food. Dinner
here is about ambiance, unwinding, and soaking up that cool Gallic
dynamic Montreal has over any city in North America. It's about
French waiters speaking to you in French, comely waitresses sporting
a long no-shape black dress with chunky shoes. Diners ranging from
families to couples meeting for dinner after work who look as though
they haven't a care in the world other than which wine goes best
with their 'gigot d'agneau'. Given 'Au Petit Extra's genuine
joie-de-vivre, I plan to re-examine as frequent as possible.

* From Where I Sit!
October 30, 2006

* Bistro Au Petit Extra
1690 Ontario St. E.
Montréal, H2L 1S7
(514) 527-5552

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Movie Review - 'The Rum Diary'‏

Hunter S. Thompson was famous for consuming copious amounts of drugs and
alcohol while still, somehow, churning out wildly colorful, raging dispatches from
the road. 'The Rum Diary' is based on his only published, heavily autobiographical
novel by the same name, which he wrote as a 22-year-old in the late 1950s and
early 1960s after a stint as a newspaper reporter in San Juan, Puerto Rico, but
was not published until 1998.

It likely never would have seen the light of day if Thompson's friend,
Johnny Depp, hadn't discovered it rummaging through some old boxes of
Hunter's works and notes, in his basement while staying with him 15
years ago, preparing to make 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', into
a movie with the director Terry Gilliam. Hunter himself had forgotten
about the manuscript. Soon after Johnny found the novel, it was finally
published, the year the movie of 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' came
out. Depp has been trying to get it adapted to the screen ever since.
That is why it's Depp's 'The Rum Diary' as much as it is the late

“These perfect boxes,” Johnny says. “I pulled it out. I was like,
'What is this?' Hunter was like, 'Oh, shit. The Rum Diary. Oh, yeah.'
It was hidden. Hunter didn't know it was there.”

The film, which is dedicated to Thompson, who died in 2005 -- is
essentially a portrait of the Duke as a young journalist. It's an
enhancement and a furthering of the novel, and brings to it the rich
maturity that the voice of the young aspiring writer had not yet
achieved. It is 'The Rum Diary' seen as Hunter might have written
it in his later prime. The stand-in for Thompson, the young
novelist-reporter Paul Kemp, is trying to find his way and his writing
voice . . . It's the birth of Gonzo.

Tiring of the noise and madness of New York and the crushing
conventions of late Eisenhower-era America, Paul Kemp (Johnny Depp
'The Tourist'), criminally exaggerated resume in hand, travels to the
pristine island of Puerto Rico to try his hand as a reporter for
a local newspaper. He lands a job at the San Juan Star, run by
downtrodden editor-in-chief Edward J. Lotterman (the excellent Richard
Jenkins 'Friends With Benefits'), whose at his wit's end running
a failing, diminishing daily.
As he interviews a hung-over Kemp, Lotterman quizzes him on what
kind of drinker he is, to which Kemp deadpans that he's at 'the
upper-end of social'. Kemp is befriended by staff photographer Bob
Sala (Michael Rispoli 'Blue Bloods', in a deservedly big part for
him coming from television), a burly, genial newsman who is nevertheless
not once seen with a camera in hand.
Kemp moves into Sala's dilapidated dump of an apartment, which
he shares with religious and crime reporter Moberg (Giovanni Ribisi
'Memphis Beat'), a horse-voiced, over-drugged oddity who listens to
Hitler broadcasts and sets some kind of record for caustic reporter-editor
Adopting the rum-soaked life of the island, Paul soon becomes
obsessed with Chenault (Amber Heard 'The Playboy Club'), the wildly
attractive Connecticut-born fiancée of Sanderson (Aaron Eckhart 'Battle
Los Angeles'). Kemp immediately falls for her, 'Oh God, why did she
have to happen?' he mutters after she swims to his paddle boat.
It's no wonder . . . Heard is stunning!

In a scene inside an afterhours club . . . the sound of calypso
playing and Heard intoxicated and in a haze of ecstacy, and dancing
very provocatively ... transported me back in time when I was working
in Puerto Vallarta. One night, out of many, at one of the hotspots that
catered to the well-to-do, tourists and locals, alike . . . . . . Sundance,
was this breathtaking blonde beauty, very similar to Chenault, who
exudes a level of sexuality that was driving even the women crazy with
Dominique was her name and she hailed from Mexico City, daughter
of the wealthy, light skinned Mexican Ambassador who married a
French-Canadian, he met while stationed in Ottawa. She came to spend
the summer in Puerto Vallarta.
The odour of deliberately enticing scents placed strategically on
heated bodies, the compelling darkness seducing me into pleasure's
secret promise, the sight of her scantily clad dusky jewelled body
dancing and gyrating.
Alone in close proximity, her hungry eyes locked onto my own thirsty
green eyes as she not so discreetly surveyed my tanned taut body that
radiated a manly heat she extracted from me and absorbed into her own,
as the connection was electrifying. I held her gaze and absorbed her
palpable sexiness and desire for me through the haze of our heat for
one another, and her leg lift like photons in love. . . Back to this
century . . .

Sanderson is a smooth manipulator, one of a growing number of American
businessmen who are determined to push through an enormous development
of a nearby, pristine island to convert Puerto Rico into a capitalist
paradise in service of the wealthy . . . that's pushing locals out.
When Kemp catches his attention and is recruited to spin the development
favorably in the Star, the journalist is presented with a choice: to
use his words for the corrupt businessmen's financial benefit, or use
them to take the bastards down.

The picture of American corruption of Puerto Rico is one of the more
compelling aspects of 'The Rum Diary'. A combative atmosphere between
poor locals and rich Americans hangs in the air, as do the Navy bombing
tests on Vieques. Depp is again in the Caribbean among pirates. Sanderson's
slick, wealthy appeal is tempting to Kemp, who isn't finding the
constricting Star to be an especially noble pursuit, either. Combined
with the allure of Sanderson's beautiful fiancée slowly builds for Kemp
into a moral crisis and, finally, an artistic tipping-point.

'I don't know how to write like me,' he says, but by the end of the
film, it's clear that Kemp/Thompson has found his legs. The guiding
principle is a furious distrust of authority (we glimpse him cursing
Nixon), and a key ingredient is hallucinogens (we also get an early
encounter with LSD).

You might expect a tribute such as this to be sycophantic, but director
Bruce Robinson (famous for the brilliant cult film 'Withnail & I') keeps
a realistic tone. Robinson, who also wrote the screenplay adaptation,
has not directed a feature lenght film since 'Jennifer 8' (1992). He
doesn't present the cartoonish Thompson we've come to expect. It's a
refreshing, grounded view of the writer.
Depp, at this point, would seem to not be aging. This more low-key
performance as a Thompson alter-ego feels truer than the manic derangement
of 'Fear and Loathing. . .', Hunter S. Thompson went on to find his voice.

* From Where I Sit!
November 5, 2011

* Johnny Depp - 'The Rum Diary' (2011)

Monday, October 31, 2011

Bombshell's Birthday Bash‏

On the drive to Bombshell's surprise, birthday dinner, the
sky was filled with the most magnificent cloud formations,
backlit by the sun. The dinner party was held at La Molisana,
a family restaurant in the heart of Ahuntsic.

'Before I go on with this short history, let me make a general
observation – the test of a first-rate intelligence is the
ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time,
and still retain the ability to function.' ~ F. Scott Fitzgerald

When her Grandparents journeyed from the outskirts of Gaspé
and landed in a quaint, picturesque neighbourhood bordering
Montreal-North, along with their 7 daughters and one son,
they settled in Ahuntsic.
They have called that area home since the 50s', and have
all evolved into their own very different and special individuals,
and for some in that same environs.
From the beginning one of the activities that brought them
together, as a family, was dinner at that eatery. I felt it
was apropos that she celebrate such a milestone soirée at
this storied establishment that carried such history for the
Couture family.

'And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count.
It's the life in your years.' ~ Abraham Lincoln

The food was delicious, well-presented and mouth watering.
Every dish was a chef-d'oeuvre. The liveliness and ambiance
were unparalleled and the entertainment top tier.
Our beautiful and talented Godchild, Chanel, who is our very
own Adele in-the-making, provided the entertainment. She belted
out her rendition of 'Aleluhia Acapella', with that magnificent,
Angelic voice. Hearts melted and minds imploded of the forty
family members and close friends who were present, including
those lucky patrons who were present by happenstance. The girl
brought the house down!

'To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds
our life.' ~ Pablo Neruda

* From Where I Sit! *
October 15, 2011

Friday, October 28, 2011

The Mount Stephen Club

Let us begin with a meeting at the once, grandest and most
opulent gentlemen's club located on Drummond, between De
Maisonneuve Blvd and Saint Catherine St. The setting for
hosting elegant weddings, speeches and parties for Montreal's
elite. The Cuban mahogany front doors of The Mount Stephen
Club opened up for me on a gloomy Tuesday afternoon.
The former home of Lord Mount Stephen - formerly George
Stephen, 1st Baron Mount Stephen (1829–1921), was built as
an example of late Victorian architecture, with 24-karat
gold doorknobs and hinges and antiques filling its rooms.
The home was converted into a private business club for
men in 1926 - by Noah Timmins, J.H. Maher and J.S. Dohan.
Women were only later admitted.
The mansion, in which the club is housed, has been used
by various Hollywood stars for period films. The mansion
was designated a National Historic Site of Canada in 1971,
as the best example of a Renaissance Revival house and due
to its association with George Stephen - the Scottish-born
founding president of the Canadian Pacific Railway.

'Architecture is the triumph of human imagination over
materials, methods, and men, to put man into possession
of his own earth.' ~ Frank Lloyd Wright

I was there to meet a man for a job interview . . . of
sorts. Kenneth Beaumont, the scion of a real estate empire,
had decided to start a new venture in housing. Through the
years, his family had accumulated vast swaths of industrial
properties, and due to the recent economic downturn were now,
mostly vacant. Beaumont came up with this novel idea of
converting these large behemoths into cool units, but did
not want to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on newspaper
and magazine advertisements, but rather do it online. Of
course it had to be catchy, with cool phrases and enticing
content, aimed at the young and hip 'nouvelle vague'. Through
a business associate, Beaumont was informed that I may be
just the right candidate for the task at hand . . . being
a prolific writer of fantasy. Hence our luncheon.
I thought about how the course of life has shifted and
evolved, in such a brief moment in time and space, into
a whole other plane of existence. I look around the room
and thought about being from another world. This was a
moneyed world of fundraisers, cottages on the lake, old
iconic institutions, flying south on a whim, and houses
on the mountain. I thought how several obscure encounters
have brought me into this very private and exclusive

"Good afternoon, young man," said Kenneth Beaumont, as
I entered the foyer.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Beaumont." I returned the greeting.

"Please call me Kenneth. Here is our table," said Beaumont,
as he motioned to a corner enclave set up for three.

At that moment a very tall, slender and gorgeous woman
dressed n a Herringbone skirt and jacket, with a crisp white
blouse and a foulard. As she was walking towards us, actually,
as she was slowly swaying every man, even some of the ladies,
turned as she went past them and made her way to our table.

"Good afternoon, sir. Good afternoon Mr. Borsellino. My name
is Wendy Carr. We have a mutual friend . . . Caitlin Rainn."

I turn to Beaumont and say, "Whatever you need . . . I'm your man!"

As he chuckled, he began, "We would like you to write content for
our online pages. I was shown several of your articles and I think
it's exactly what we are looking for."

'When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the
conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my
talent for absorbing positive knowledge' ~ Albert Einstein

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Published @ Amazon Kindle Store‏

Ladies & Gentlemen,
A short story I submitted to KDP was published @ Amazon
Kindle Store. It is for lovers of thrillers, mystery and
intrigue . . . and avid readers on the go. It is about illegitimate
offspring, family inheritance and art theft.

Here's a link to the book in the Kindle store:
'The Heist' |

My friend Nadine Hennelly (
directed me to this new medium as well as contribute
the book cover.

'All my life I've looked at words as though I were seeing
them for the first time.' ~ Ernest Hemingway

Thursday, September 1, 2011


As was customary, within my circle of peers, at eighteen, a boy is
driven to a business associate of the father, who owns an automobile
dealership and allowed to choose his first car. Being that we just
stepped-off of the seventies, muscle cars were still in vogue, most
notably Pontiacs and Camaros, more specifically Trans-Ams and Z-28s.
Having just seen the movie 'American Gigolo', I wanted a European
convertible, not some hunk of steel, so I put the word out among
auto enthusiasts.

Late one summer evening I get a call from an enthusiast, who had
a connection with the sole auto dealer in Montreal who dealt in
Italian models Luciani Motors.

That same night, like some cloak and dagger mission, we arrived at
the showroom. After introductions we are lead to an underground storage
facility. As I adjusted my focus, in the back of this large backdrop
of concrete and steel, I see the most beautiful, exotic jewel, a black
Fiat Spider with a tan interior and ragtop. The same color like the
title character in 'American Gigolo'.

FIAT 'Fabbrica Italiana Automobili Torino' was founded in Turin, Northern
Italy, in the year 1899, at the dawn of the Italian industrialization. Now
the FIAT group is a financial and industrial conglomerate that initially,
also manufactured aircrafts. In the year 1979, the FIAT 124 Spider came
to be known as the Spyder 2000. The 1980 Spyder 2000 came equipped with
a bigger and more powerful engine that provided good acceleration. It had
a wide rectangular mesh grille and a badge on the bonnet. It was a classic,
in the sense of Austin Healeys, and MGB Roadsters of the late sixties. It
had these incredible power bulges over each wheel rim. The aerodynamic body
of the vehicle was designed to minimize drag.

I was in Heaven, an instant bond between man and machine. I turned to
Mr. Luciani and said, "That's the one!"

My dad wasn't happy and so he let it be known it was my responsibility financially, of course. I had to come up with the funds, but I didn't care,
she was worth it.

"I like you Frank so I'll arrange for the car loan to be approved. Just
don't let me down, young man?"

Imagine what that felt like to an eighteen year old? Like, in 1492 when Christopher Columbus first saw land in the horizon.

Two days go by and I get a call from Mr. Luciani's secretary, who says, "Mr.Borsellino, Mr. Luciani wanted to let you know your car is ready."

I must have jumped 3 feet in the air, all the while trying to maintain
civil dialogue with the lady on the other end. "Come in to sign some papers
and you can drive her home."

I got a ride to the lot and went up to the office. Signed some documents,
and got my first set of keys. It was like getting your license for freedom.
You were now allowed to go anywhere, anytime and with anyone, day or night.
I don't think I had ever or since felt such an invigorating feeling of
'The world is your oyster'.

I crossed the lot and I saw her, she had been washed and was a shiny black
beacon amidst a sea of colour. Luciani had many cars in that lot but only
my little black diamond shone. The smile on my face was so pronounced it
was going to slice my cheek - through and through. I stopped and took a
moment to let this exciting event in the life of any young man or woman
to completely envelop me, because I couldn't believe this was my car.

Mr. Luciani says, "Now, son, be very careful. A convertible is not like
a hardtop, if you roll over, you'll get crushed."

As he began to show me the temperature cage, the lever that opens the
bonnet, the hidden key slot for the trunk, etc. I interrupt him and say,
"I don't care, I'll eventually read the manual and figure those things out."

"I understand, son."

"How do I put down the top?"

He went through the motions of reciting the instructions and pointing to
the lever to unhook the ragtop, while I’m settling in comfortably. I turn
the key and . . . voila. The engine came to life and it was like music to
my ears. The purring sound of that little Italian 'macchina' was like Angels

The first stop was a friend who lived across the river. Crossing the
bridge, with the wind in your hair, was very exhilarating. Being on an
open road was a profound liberation of the spirit.

My friend's dad is an avid car collector, mostly antiques though, but
one look at that little gem, and he loved me for the next 25 years. Every
time I went to pick her up, he'd take it for a spin, like he was reliving
his adolescence, while my friend and I sat around the house waiting. She
was half French-Canadian but had the soul of an Italian and so christened
her 'Genevieve', and the name stuck for the next several years.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

I, Grand Piano

As the spotlight bounced off the black-lacquered sheen, from the top
of my back, Madam came out of left stage and placed her soft posterior
gently on the bench. She caressed the softwood of the surface, then lifted
the cover to reveal my beautiful, glistening ivory black and white keys.

She glided her hands from side to side and admired my delicate craftsmanship.
She looked beneath this massive case of strings and hammers at the three
legs, curves and sturdy brass feet. Noticed the cashmere spread draped
across the back-end of my nine-foot frame, with the candelabra, which still
hadn't been lit.

There was ninety minutes to the start of the concerto. As Madam verified
the tone and rhythm, I felt a sense of relief engulf me. That piano tuner,
earlier in the day, after I had been transported from our previous engagement,
had hands like sandpaper. With enough cuts and bruises that constantly scratched
my sensitive keys. Ivory, is not meant to be struck so forcefully, except
maybe by Madam.

I knew she would start with Mozart or maybe even Chopin, she enjoyed
the classics. I personally had a soft spot for that new music, Jazz. I
enjoyed that little place we played at last week, 'The Blue Note Café',
instead of this grand Concert Hall. I liked Louie, the upright base and
Sheila, the saxophone, they really knew how to liven up a room. The crowd
swayed and grooved to the sounds that we, as a trio, produced. I hadn't
seen Madam this alive in a long time. I even felt her swish her tiny
derriere on the bench. It was very exhilarating.

This vast auditorium is very imposing, even though I feel I'm dominating
this backdrop tableau very adequately. I’ve been here before, not this
particular place, but this sort of venue. This was a major factor in
European musical life since the early 18th century. I’m a descendant
and amalgam of different instruments and I consist of strings and hammers,
and I feel the felt that covers those hammers, very warmly. I enjoy
the way Madam allows them to fall to deaden the sound as soon as her
fingers release the keys.

My keyboard mechanism enables me to vary notes dynamically with crisp
brilliance, loudness and softness, encompassing a wide range. My beautiful
brass foot pedals allows me to increase, diminish, or sustain the sound,
which gives me that forceful sonority. My soundboard serves the function
to resonate and project.

Madam is really enjoying this session and I love to see her happy. When
she's feeling this way it perpetuates her sensuousness as the tips of her
fingers gently careen from one key to the next.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Family Heirloom

In 1924, my grandfather, being a proud Italian citizen, begins
his military service. It is between the wars, and so his duties
keep him out of harm's way. The commander of his regiment is Lt.
Victor Emmanuel II, son of the reigning King of Italy. On a routine
day of tank manoeuvres, the Lt. is sitting atop the steel beast
directing the helmsman which way to steer.

Unfortunately, the driver, being ill-equipped to handle this
behemoth machine, takes a sudden right turn and the Prince tumbles
to the ground in the path of the tank's continuous tracks. Grandfather's
instincts overtook his cerebral, and in fear for the Prince's life
of being crushed, bolts in to rescue him. After thrusting him out
of the tank's trajectory with such intensely, he now feared having
injured the heir.

As they slowly stand and dust themselves off, the Prince turns and
embraces my grandfather, while whispering out of any bystander's range,


He is taken away to the infirmary and not seen for some time.

Several days pass and my grandfather receives an emissary from
King Victor Emmanuel I. He hands my grandfather a box with a note
which carried the royal crest emblazoned on it. The king was thanking
my grandfather for having saved his son's life, and to accept this
little token of his gratitude. My grandfather opens the box and
it's a Patek Philippe watch.

Since 1844, Antoine Norbert de Patek and Jean-Adrien Philippe
created the first timepieces with stem winding and hands setting
mechanism. In the mid-1920s' it creates its first wristwatch with
split-seconds chronographs and perpetual calendar. A first among
Swiss manufacturers and the watch is a thing of beauty, which has
ever since, been associated with the rich, newly minted
industrialists and of course European royalty.

On my 18th birthday, he tells me this story and hands me this
watch and says, "Today you're on the cusp of manhood. Here is the
beacon which will guide you on your journey."

He says as he hands it to me, still the original box, and continues. . .

"Keep it safe, which is why I wanted you to know the history it
carries with it."

I opened the box, and there was this classic piece of exceptional
craftsmanship, a silver Patek Philippe.

"It's a beautiful piece?"

It had a black ostrich leather strap, very large numbers, with an
old world style fonts. The second hand moved with perfect synchronicity.
It was sleek, classic and when you had it on, you felt like royalty.

"It's absolutely beautiful Grandpa. I shall cherish it forever."

After the passing of my grandfather, the watch has been kept in the
safety-box at the bank. I don’t know its worth - should probably get
it appraised.

One day, in the distant future, on my brother's son's twenty fifth
birthday or when he graduates from university, I will sit him down and
after telling him the story of the man he never met, pass on the watch.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Diana Krall Cast a Spell. . . . .‏

Diana Krall invited her audience into the living room of her
childhood home in Nanaimo, B.C. and, alone at the grand piano
with only her dad's gramophone as a prop for company, played
the music she loved as a girl.

It was an intimate show Sunday night at Théâtre Maisonneuve,
as Krall put a sold-out hall at ease with standards and surprised
with some not-so-standards of the Great American Songbook.

Opening with Peel Me a Grape, she soon launched into a medley
of Fats Waller tunes, stamping her black stiletto heels as she
pounded away at the keyboard, boogie-woogie style, tossing her
blond curls to the rhythm.

Form-fitting, sleeveless black dress aside, it was a far cry
from that old Chrysler ad and The Look of Love, more a return to
the roots of Krall's 1995 fest debut when she proved her love for
Nat King Cole.

In between songs, she talked fondly of learning her chops from
Jimmy Rowles and jamming in Oscar Peterson's basement, recalled
how she was a disaster on third clarinet in her high-school band,
and reminisced about listening to jazz on her father's reel-to-reel
tape player and 78-rpm records.
If the audience didn't always get her jazz references, Krall
forgave them. "Thanks for listening to songs you might not have
heard before", she said after introducing something by Bix
Beiderbecke and getting no response.

No matter. Whether it was a familiar tune like Don't Fence Me
In or an unfamiliar one like the vintage ode to dope, Reefer Song
(loved that one), Krall's performance – her first full-length
solo concert ever – pulled the crowd into her world.

She closed her 15-song, 80-minute uninterrupted set with a
lovely but obscure 1938 movie tune called As Long As I Love and
came back for a three-song encore playing a ukulele. Why? Because
her childhood hero, Groucho Marx, played one.
She and her husband, Elvis Costello play the instrument in
bed, she explained, before softly strumming All I Do Is Dream
of You and encouraging her fans to sing along. Few knew the

Then it was back to the piano for Krall's own Departure Bay
and, as an adieu, a Prairie Lullaby for her twin boys, Dexter
and Frank. Sweet dreams, all.

* From Where I Sit! *
June 26, 2011

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Wine, Women & Passion

'There is no wine more intoxicating than an intriguing, sensual woman, able to leave in the mouth a long aftertaste of sweet passion.' ~ © Frank Borsellino™

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The Mayonnaise Jar Philosophy‏ by The Professor

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when
24 Hours in a day is not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and
the 2 cups of coffee.


A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in
front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very
large and empty Mayonnaise Jar and proceeded to fill it with
golf balls. He then asked the students, if the jar was full. They
agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into
the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open
areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the
jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.
Of course, the sand filled up all the empty spaces. He asked once more
if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous 'yes'.
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table
and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the
empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

'Now,' said the professor, as the laughter subsided, 'I want you to
recognize that this jar represents your life.

The golf balls are the important things - family, children, health,
friends, and favorite passions - Things that if everything else was
lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, house,
and car. The sand is everything else -- The small stuff.

'If you put the sand into the jar first,' He continued, 'there is
no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life.
If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will
never have room for the things that are important to you.

So. . . . .

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Talk with your parents. Play with your children.
Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner.
There will always be time to clean the house and fix the car.

'Take care of the golf balls first -- The things that really matter.
Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.'

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee
represented. The professor smiled. 'I'm glad you asked'. 'To show
you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room
for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.'

Monday, May 16, 2011

Woman in Red !‏

I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap.
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.

I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what's underneath.
I want to walk like I'm the only
woman on earth and I can have my pick.

I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm
your worst fears about me,
to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what I want.

When I find it, I'll pull that garment
from its hanger like I'm choosing a body
to carry me into this world, through
the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
and I'll wear it like bones, like skin. . . . .

Monday, April 11, 2011

Wind of Change Blows on my Face‏

The wind of change
Blows through our days
Sometimes can leave
Our minds with haze

When thinks do not
Go as expected
It is easy to feel
Quite dejected

If we live
With love inside
And never faith
We compromise

We can bring
Our dreams to reality
Transform that haze
Into clarity

Wind of change
Can be uplifting
And also gifting

A chance for
Love and new beginnings
When you believe
You end up winning.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Movie Review - 'Limitless'‏

'Limitless', is a clever, stylish little exercise in drug-fueled
paranoia. This film raises the question, 'If the apple from the
tree of knowledge fell right into your lap, would you take a bite?
And then what would you do?'

The apple in this case is an illicit designer drug, NZT. Now,
it isn't just another quick high, but instead, it makes a lie
of the old saying that we only use 20 percent of our brains and
cranks that percentage up to 100. Can you fathom that! The
possibilities are endless in theory and also for the purpose
of this story.

A thirty-something writer Eddie Mora (Bradley Cooper 'The A-Team'),
is divorced with a terminal case of writer's block. Here is a guy
who was just dumped by his most recent girlfriend Lindy (Abbie
Cornish 'A Good Year'), because he's going nowhere at the speed
of light. By circumstance, our slacker finds himself in possession
of a stash of the wonder pill.
Suddenly, Eddie -- seducing the worlds of writing, women and
Wall Street -- has got massive amounts of game and brains, attracting
the attention of both barons of the boardroom like Carl Van Loon
(Robert De Niro 'Little Fockers'), bullies on the street like
Russian mobster Gennady (Andrew Howard), and some mysterious
third guy who keeps giving him the side eye and chasing him
around Manhattan.
And did someone mention side effects? Baby, this apple bites
back. This is where Eddie might be starting to realize that
getting really smart really quickly may have been a dumb thing
to do.

Bradley Cooper is great and really plays up both sides of that
coin, the intellect and when the drug wears out, the pauper.
I have been a big fan of his since the series 'Alias'. I always
enjoyed him because he stretches and doesn't just skate on his
looks. He tries to be diverse in his choice of roles. Lately,
he's seen in raunchy fare like 'The Hangover' and plodding
rom-coms ('Wedding Crashers' – didn't you hate him? 'He's Just
Not That Into You' – again the cad and we loved him in
'Valentine's Day').

'Limitless', based on the novel 'The Dark Fields' by Alan
Glynn and directed with a nimble efficiency and sense of visual
humor by Neil Burger ('Interview with the Assassin'), is at
times reminiscent of the work of Danny Boyle ('127 Hours',
'Slumdog Millionaire'), it never takes itself too seriously
but still manages to be suspenseful and clever. Burger, Cooper
and De Niro opened up what was a very cluttered book and
injected it with a jolt of cinematic electricity.
Smart move - smart movie.

* From Where I Sit!
March 27, 2011

Sunday, April 3, 2011

'Evolution' Dinner Observations‏

Ladies & Gentlemen,

'I have called this principle, by which each slight variation,
if useful, is preserved, by the term 'Natural Selection.' ~ Charles
Darwin (Father of Evolution)

What a night! The guests reached a zenith of Forty-One. . . . WOW!

'Our hearts are drunk with a beauty our eyes could never see.' ~ George W. Russell

The following could have been my observations of the launch of
the 2011 season of dinner parties. I could have mentioned how the
'Evolution Dinner Party' far surpassed anything I envisioned or
could have imagined, but instead . . .

'Great effort from great motives is the best definition of a happy
life.' ~ William Ellery Channing

As is the case, with each shindig, the dynamics and especially
the landscape varies, not more discernible than this recent
eclectic ensemble. I have always been a big proponent of 'Evolution',
and how we must always evolve or perish.

Oscar Wilde said, 'Move forward or die!'

I could be writing about how this evening was elegant, without
being formal, like my attorney, gracious and a warmth and love
hard to surpass, but instead. . .

'To feel the love of people whom we love is a fire that feeds
our life.' ~ Pablo Neruda

I could be mentioning how after all this time and space our little
group is a true testament to class acts and how I should be as happy
has a little girl, but instead. . .

I could be thanking all the newcomers, who are far too many to mention
individually, and wish them to return, but instead . . .

The ladies who were jaunting along like little girls in a playground,
while at the same time exuding such fiery sultriness, were palpable.
Luigi was having trouble concentrating on any one lady, the beautiful
and gorgeous came out in droves. One lady in particular, who has blessed
me with her friendship, is a loving creature. The hair, the cheekbone,
the way she smiles, even her posture, is unpretentious. Teresa Silvano
looked 'Good Enough to Eat!' Delicious! I could be dispensing admiration
of that sort, but instead . . .

'Camminando le donne può tutto mostrare...Ma niente non lasciare
vedere!' ~ Marcello Mastroianni
(Sensual women can show everything, without revealing anything!)

I could be singing from the rafters how this little kid from the
other side of the tracks, had Quebec Royalty grace his table in the
form of a 'Disco Diva'. How Patsy Gallant became a raconteur and
entertained her coterie, but instead. . .

I could be mentioning the camaraderie I witnessed on numerous
occasions, as I glimpsed at little cliques that formed. Gabrielli,
Latino, Fiorante, and Garone to name but a few. Groups of
people I would not have matched or others I had not seen together
since my adolescence, but instead. . .

We like wine . . . Everything about it . . . The cool feel of
the bottle . . . The pop of the cork . . . The splash of the pour
and the tip of the glass. Great wine has the power to make any
meal or moment memorable. It's magical that way.

I could be pointing out how the wine we had was such a magical
elixir. 'Arboleda' Cabernet Sauvignon de Chile, was full-bodied,
ruby red, deliciously dry, with a hint of a woody finish, yet
velour to our palette, but instead . . .

I feel it remise not to thank Gianni, and the personnel at
Cavalli, for consistently making us feel special. Those culinary
delights emanating from the kitchen, under the supervision of
chef extra-ordinaire Frankie Baby, like the lamb chops, the
sinful Mac&Cheese and the leafy Endive salad. All those exquisite
main courses from the Salmon, to the Sea Bass, to the Veal
chop, etc.

I could have acknowledged the succulence of those first
'Shrimps Tempura' and 'Raw Oysters'. Could have mentioned how
they made 'The Professor' utter, in a low breath . . .

'Frank, if this were the only dish it would be enough.'

Thank you for taking my hand and traveling with me on this
journey, when you suggested I go back to school. I couldn't
have done it without your guidance, fortitude and perseverance.
I hope I can inspire you as much as you have me.

'Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not
born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that
a new world is born.' ~ Anais Nin

I could have aggregated the following, 'Life's euphoria is
made up of little moments you steal away from the mundane'.
This night was such a moment, but instead . . .

'We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for after
a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.' ~ Marcel Proust

* From Where I Sit!
Friday, March 25, 2011

Saturday, January 22, 2011

'Enchantment' Dinner Observations‏

'We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who
begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at
once, before a word has been spoken.' ~ Dostoevsky

After a 45 minutes ride, which went by in a flash, I arrived
at my destination, 'The Food Porn Palace'. The anticipation had
been palpable for the past seven days, in part due to the fact
that this night had been in the pipeline for some time, on account
of some of the ladies that inspired this shindig were unavailable,
but ultimately, they did not even attend. Live and learn!

'Your primary purpose is to be here fully, and to be total in
whatever you do so that the preciousness of the present moment
does not become reduced to a means to an end. And there you
have your life purpose. That's the very foundation of yourè
life.' ~ Eckhart Tolle

A couple of decades earlier, on such a journey, on such an
evening, in the back of a limo, a young man reclined like a
Master of the Universe. A new friend I had met, in of all places,
a restaurant club in Ft.Lauderdale named 'Yesterday's', but who
actually lived on the South Shore of Montreal, in a tiny, very
Nationalist enclave called St.Jean-sur-Richelieu.
This man, let us call him Gaston Paradise, was the largest
builder of government subsidized housing, military barracks,
warehouses and office buildings in that town. He was the biggest
fish in a small pond. Gaston liked limos, blue ones, so he could
drink to his heart's content. Whenever he came down to Montreal,
either to party or dinner, it was always in a long, blue
limousine. In all the time I knew him, it was always the driver.
I would arrange outings, dinners, and the like with very
attractive, successful older women. He had confided in me,
back in Ft.Lauderdale that he had been observing me for some
time from a distance, within my entourage, and loved the way
I operated. He offered to bankroll me if I would include him
and his good friend in my circle. And that was the beginning
of a long, very interesting and fruitful friendship.

In the setting sun the striking skyline glitters, alight with
promise, dripping with possibilities.

For a while my neighbors did not know what to make of this
seemingly regular, clandestine visitor in this big blue car
picking up the kid down the street.

At first it seemed we were going to have one of my famous dinners
of seven, then a funny thing happened, people commenced trickling
in and before you knew it we became an ensemble. What began slowly
and with very little fanfare culminated into a most enchanting

'Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born
until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world
is born.' ~ Anais Nin

The motley group of fellow party diners soon gathered to party on.
We were able to amass quite a montage of bon vivants! The sparkling,
flashing, neon, lights twinkling brighter than the early-evening

'We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at
least once. And we should call every truth false which was not
accompanied by at least one laugh.' ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

I'm back to verbalize my reflections and laud the virtues of
our latest culinary tête-à-tête. As is customary let us welcome
the nubile Nicole, Linda, and that delicious birthday girl Teresa,
as well as 'The Lonewolf'. New male members of our cortege are
few and far between. Renato was a formidable addition as well as
a gentleman. I hope he along with those delightful dames continue
to grace our table.
I'm a big proponent of evolution, and this group has definitely
evolved. It was different and unique, as they always are. As is
the case with each gathering, the dynamics and especially the
landscape changes, and this time the changes were subtle. I mean
the splinters seemed to be grouped as though it was preordained
by affiliations, desires, wants and needs.
It's similarities to an ever-changing living organism that grows
as it absorbs particles it picks up along its journey like Teresa.
There's a fresh particle. She had had a working relationship with
'Madame Sotheby's, in the carriage trade, so it was a seamless effort
on either part. They hit it off. Along with Madame's beau, 'Monsieur
Arbitrage', both had recently flown in from down south. They are
so precious! Love them both. The lovely and effervescent 'Ivana',
who made her second trek to one of my dinners in recent memory.
What an exquisite and smooth accent. It plays off the ear like
its namesake.
'The Cat', to whom I shall add the prefix 'Sultry' from this
date forward, maybe because it had been so long we had not seen
each other but she exuded sensuality to a whole other level.
Speaking of sensual levels. Hilda, who from this moment on shall
be forever known as 'Boobs'. WOW! In all the time I have known
her, had never noticed the curvaceousness of that kitten. Also
in that corner was the always bodacious 'Biker Babe', Patricia
and 'The Lonewolf'.
Next to me sat the always constant in a sea of change Doris
and Patrick. Facing them, the 'Prodigal Son' returns, the always,
gregarious Frank Manzone. 'The Photographer' dazzled the ladies
with his Beatlesque look and who's attention was directed solely
at the delicious and vixenish 'Meryl'.
In the other wing, of this long train, there was Anna, 'The
Attorney', being amused by 'The Printer' and 'La Regina' holding
court. And I smiled!

'I have gotten to a point in my life where I don't want to have
dinner with someone I don't like.' ~ John Frankenheimer

There was a sweet smell of sensuality emanating from our mostly,
female coterie. I enjoyed that most of the ladies wore skirts, except
the ones that slipped through the cracks and I forgot to mention it
to, failed dramatically but for the most part I was privy to a bouquet
of stems. I relish in and appreciate the infinite beauty and exquisite
curvature of the female form. Show it, flaunt it, admire it and allow
it to blossom.

A special mention to 'The Attorney' who looked every bit une 'Femme
Fatale'... 'Camminando le donne può tutto mostrare... ma niente
lasciare vedere! (Sensual women can show everything, without revealing
anything!).' ~ Marcello Mastroianni

I feel it remiss not to thank Gianni and the personnel at Cavalli,
for consistently making us feel special. Our very own and personal
assistant Audrey, who time and time again as shown great stamina, in
the face of a constant barrage of requests from a spoiled bunch (or
maybe that's just me?). Kudos to the chefs, Frank and Nick, the dishes
were remarkable and sublime. The Swordfish with a smidgen of squash
concoct was exquisite, moist and mouth-watering. The Salmon Tartare
was devilish. The Filet Mignon was rich and rosy. Inspirations!
They say the measure of a great restaurant is the consistency of its
dishes. Once again, 'The Food Porn Palace' as proven that dictum,
and its King's altruism never cease to amaze me.

During the evening someone asked, "Are you going to mention me in
your 'Observations'?" To which I replied, "I don't feel inspired."
Well, what do you know here I am, again!

Love the music, love the sunshine love the whispering winds that
deliver fresh petals, to far away places. Adore subtle hues, the line
of a suit or an historic house draped in springtime. Nestle into
a trusting arm, on a cozy floor from which to gaze above at possibilities
in life, at stars that beckon dreamers all the while listening to
the whispers of friends' hearts and lovers' lips.

'I feel sorry for people who don't drink. They wake up in the morning
and that's the best they're going to feel all day.' ~ Dean Martin

Life is too short to wake up with regrets. So love the people who
treat you right. Forget about the ones who don't. Believe everything
happens for a reason. If you get a second chance, grab it with both
hands. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said life would be easy,
they just promised it would be worth it. Life is short, Break the rules,
Forgive quickly, Kiss slowly, Love Truly, Laugh uncontrollably, and
never regret anything that made you smile. Life may not be the party
we hoped for, but while we're here we should dance.

'A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to
us. To live is to be slowly born.' ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of
arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather
to skid in sideways, cigar in one hand, wine in the other, body
thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming, "Woo! What a ride!"

* From Where I Sit! *
January 14, 2011