Rise Like A Grand Canyon …

Today is Friday, the 28th of June 2019.

Kylie is calling from Arizona.

Arizona, the llama says, is The Copper State. I felt like dyeing my hair red somehow.

The animal looks like a clown, Kylie says. Give it four super-sized shoes and the image would be perfect.

Well, I say, I do not want to be a spoilsport or an overprotective manager but how is your concert tour going?

Again I can almost hear Kylie roll her eyes.

We had a gig in the Springfield Golf Resort, the llama says.

Which is part of one of the Springfield Retirement Communities, Kylie adds.

And we played Golf music, the llama says.

What is Golf music, I ask.

I don't know, Kylie says. Something with piano and some singing.

The old folks did not listen to us, the llama says. They were looking for their golf balls they have beaten over the edge of the Grand Canyon. The whole Grand Canyon is filled with golf balls these days. But one day they will

RISE LIKE A PHOENIX FROM THE GRAND CANYON.

I have to hold the receiver away from my ear because the llama is so loud.

Everything alright with the animal, I ask Kylie after a while.

Don't ask, Kylie says. Take this new map and I will call you again next week.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 65

Today is Thursday, the 27th of June 2019.

This evening will be DARK.

And if there is a place to be it is the place to be. Come on. The sun is frying my brain. What do you expect from me?

"Goodnight Bromford"

I said goodnight BROMFORD

'Cause I'm awake in my room

I've been up for 38 hours

And it don't look like sleep's coming soon

'Cause I could break like a bird

Or I could swallow the sea

It seems like the daylight is coming

And no one is watching but me

But I don't mind the dark

Discovering the day

'Cause the night is a beautiful bright blue and gray

What brings me down now is love

'Cause I can never get enough

And what brings me down now is love

'Cause I can never get enough of love

And it's a dangerous time

For a heart on a wire

Shuttle from station to station

Noisily not knowing why

So I put my head on the ground

And the sky is a wheel

Spinning these days into things that I've lost

But you can keep all the years

But I don't mind the days

Gone rolling away

'Cause all this sunlight feels warm on my face today

But what brings me down now is love

'Cause I can never get enough

And what brings me down now is love

'Cause I can never get enough, never get enough

Never get enough, no no, never get enough, no oh no

And still I can never get enough of love

And what brings me, brings me down now is love

'Cause I can never get enough of love

I can never get enough of love

I can never ever get enough

I can never get enough of love

It grows as it goes …

Today is Monday, the 24th of June 2019.

Kylie is calling from New Mexico.

How is your tour going, I ask.

Do you still want to be our mananger, Kylie asks.

Let's pretend I am, I say.

This is a real Land of Enchantment, the llama shouts in the background. And tell him that crying and shouting is not the same in this Klingon language he wants us to use.

What's the llama saying, I ask.

Ignore it, Kylie says.

So what about your New Mexican gig last night, I ask.

Openair, Kylie says, on a field near Roswell, New Mexico.

Uh, oh, the llama says, all these UFOs in the latenight skies.

They were no Unidentified Flying Objects, Kylie replies; they were surveillance drones and police helicopters.

What happened, I ask.

We were performing for something like twenty people, Kylie says, with lightshow and playback with music on tape and costumes and so on. And the audience was - well - kind of interested.

What were you performing, I ask.

A kind of smaller version of Pink Floyd's THE WALL, Kylie says. You know with this one song

We don't need no education

We don't need no thought control

No dark sarcasm in the classroom

Teachers leave them kids alone

Hey, teachers, leave them kids alone

All in all it's just another brick in the wall …

So, what's the problem, I ask.

It's the political situation in the U.S. of A., the llama shouts.

At first, Kylie tries to explain, supporters of the Democratic Party thought we wanted to make a positive statement for Donald Trump's WALL on the border to Mexico. So they organized a protest march around the concert field.

All in all it's just another brick in the wall, the llama sings.

Sounds…, I say, exciting.

Wait for it, Kylie says. After we could convince them we were only doing a performance of a very old piece of music from an old British rockband, supporters of the Republican Party thought we wanted to make fun of Trump's WALL and started another protest.

Yeah, the llama shouts, that was fun, all those rednecks circling the field with their roaring trucks shooting the air with their guns and riffles. Yeehaw!

The police ended it all, Kylie says. And now we are sitting here in the desert of Roswell looking for aliens.

Illegal aliens, I ask.

Don't even try to be funny, Kylie says.

And the llama sings again.

♫ Come to New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment … ♫

Nil sine numine …

Today is Saturday, the 22nd of June 2019.

Kylie is calling from Colorado.

The gig in Springfield, Colorado last night was a disaster, Kylie says. It was hell or high water.

What happened, I ask. And I think you are using 'hell or high water' in a wrong way. I fact it is informal used to say that something will definitely happen or be done even though other events or situations might make it difficult like 'I will be there on time, come hell or high water'.

Do you think this is the right time to be a smart-ass, Kylie asks.

Am I allowed to take off this poncho now, the llama asks.

Why is the llama wearing a poncho, I ask.

Yeah, answer that question, you queen of stereotypes, the llama grumbles.

The mayor opened the Town Hall around 8.00 p.m., Kylie says, but the only paying visitor that came was Martha, an elderly librarian from Prichett on the route 160. She tried to dance during the first fifteen minutes of our concert and than fell asleep.

Does not sound funny, I say.

I always told you I cannot sing, Kylie says, and I do not play any instruments.

No musician can these days, I say, and they fill the greatest stadions. Try it with a great lightshow next time. What did you do in the first fifteen minutes of that gig?

I tried a little folk music, Kylie said. Like Joan Baez or Lonely Mitchell.

This land is your land; 

this land is my land 

from California to the New York Island…

Sounds…, I say.

Terrible, the llama shouts in the background.

Than, Kylie continues, the llama made its grand entrance with poncho, sombrero and the only instrument the stage saw that night.

What instrument, I ask.

Panpipe, Kylie says.

Stereotypes, the llama shouts out, this girl is full of stereotypes.

The panpipes are gone, Kylie says. The llama ate them. As I said it was a disaster. But the mayor and the librarian went home early, together and after the major gave us the keys to the Town Hall to lock up the door after ourselves.

They are engaged now, the llama shouts. And they will marry next month. And those panpipes tastes like toothpicks.

Time to make some good weather, I think, may come what may or hell or high water.

Hey, remember, I say, only six states to go.

Ah, bite me, Kylie says and hangs up.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 64

Today is Thursday, the 20th of June 2019. Happy Cadaver.

That is no rain, that is a flood. What have we done to you, Raingod?

(But I am cheating. Want to post this early tomorrow because of Happy Cadaver. So today is in fact Wednesday. But I will never ever tell you that.)

What's the city? What's the city? What's the city?

"Bromford, I'm Yours"

There is a city by the sea

A gentle company

I don't suppose you want to?

And as it tells its sorry tale

In harrowing detail

Its hollowness will haunt you

Its streets and boulevards

Orphans and oligarchs

And here's a plaintive melody

A truncated symphony.

An ocean's garbled vomit on the shore:

Bromford, I'm yours

O ladies, pleasant and demure

Hollow-cheek'd and sure

I can see your undies)

And all the boys you drag about

On empty, fallow fount

From Saturdays to Mondays.

You bridge and tunnel crowd

Hanging your trousers down at heel.

This is the realest thing

As ancient choirs sing

A rushing rabble revels from above

Bromford, my love.

O what a rush of ripe elan!

Languor on divans

Dalliant and dainty!

But the smell of burnt cocaine,

The dolor and the drain

It only makes me cranky

O great calamity,

Den of iniquity and tears

How I abhor this place

Its sweet and bitter taste

Has left me wretched, wretching on all fours

Bromford, I'm yours

The Road to Equality …

Today is Sunday, the 16th of June 2019.

Kylie is calling from Wyoming. Who put the 'E' in 'Quality', she wonders.

So we are going back to the North-East, the llama asks.

Yes, Kylie says, we can still make it in one flow although we got the wrong turn the other day. We should have gone from Montana to Wyoming and not to Idaho. We can still get there. Although we will have to change the goal of our journey through the United States of America.

There is a goal, the llama asks.

There is a new goal, Kylie says. Bromford, would you explain it to us?

How I hate these three persons telephone conversations.

Yes, I say. There was this thought in my head. But I cannot figure it out. It was something like you two being on concert tour through all fifty states with all these cover songs about the wonderful city of Bromford. And there was this big festival as the highlight at the end of your journey. But it felt more natural or organic when it first came to my mind.

Did you know that magpies are serious killers, the llama asks. Really. Don't raise your eyebrows, you two. I saw one of them kill a blackbird chick last year, in the garden. At first I though it was a really big worm the magpie was ripping apart but it was a blind and featherless chick it stole from the nest. And the blackbird parents attacked the magpie with shrill sounds and sharp beaks. It was a massaker.

The other idea, I try to ignore the animal and its violent fantasies, was about all these cities called Springfield in the United States of America. What about a concert in every Springfield in every State?

What is this with you and the concerts, Kylie asks me. Llama and I are no musicians. We do not play instruments and I am quite sure nobody wants to hear us sing.

Lionesses are serious killers, too, the llama says. They eat gnu babies and zebras. And polar bears, they hunt down penguins and have them for barbecue.

What is this with you and the killer animals, Kylie asks the llama.

Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, the llama says. Let's practice that song from last Thursday's song quiz. I once knew a girl in Harrisburg. She called herself Sugar and had a dog called Pepper. Or maybe I knew a girl from Germany and she called her dog Sugar. Or maybe both.

So that is set, I say. I will book you two more concerts as your home-based manager from here. Start your rehearsals. It is gonna be a huge success. I will hear you if you won't hear me first.

And as always I am very strong in ignoring protesting sounds from the other end of the line.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 63

Today is Quizday, the 13th of June 2019. World will end on a Thursday, the thirteenth. So maybe we'll have to face the end of the world later. Be prepared!

I jumped like Michael Jordan but never quite as high, because KrissKross will make you jump... JUMP... Strange days these are...

"Bromford"

Romero got married on the fifth of July

In our Lady of Immaculate Dawn

Could have got married in the revival man's tent

But there ain't no reviving what's gone

Slipped like a shadow from the family he made

In a little white house by the woods

Dropped the kids at the mission, with a rose for the virgin

She knew he was gone for good

It's a long way to Heaven, it's closer to Bromford

And that's still a long way from the place where we are

And if evil exists, it's a pair of train tracks

And the devil is a railroad car

Could have stayed somewhere but the train tracks kept going

And it seems like they always left soon

And the wolves that he ran with moaned low and painful

Sang sad miseries to the moon

It's a long way to Heaven, it's closer to Bromford

And that's still a long way from the place where we are

And if evil exists, it's a pair of train tracks

And the devil is a railroad car

Rose at the altar withered and wilted

Romero sank into a dream

He didn't make Heaven, he didn't make Bromford

He died in a hole in between

Some say that man is the root of all evil

Others say God's a drunkard for pain

Me I believe that the Garden of Eden

Was burned to make way for a train.

[What a bitter note you are singing here, Mister ...]

Empty Beehive States…

Kylie is calling from Utah.

Who is this Uta, the llama asks.

I don't know, Kylie says, maybe another one of Bromford's female friends.

I don't like these female parts of your split personality, dude, the llama shouts.

Calm down, animal, Kylie says. This is Utah, another one of the United States of America. Do you want to talk about Mormons?

I don't want to talk about hormones, the llama says. Are you in love again, Kylie-Whiley?

I said Mormons not hormones, Kylie says. Wash you ears, animal. It says here they also call Utah the Beehive State.

Why do they call it the Beehive State, the animal asks. I haven't seen any bees lately. Only some big old mean killer wasps.

I am your travelling companion not your teacher, Kylie says. Find out for yourself why thinks are they way they are.

Does anybody want to talk to me, I asks no one in specific or maybe the telephone receiver.

Now I understand why there are no bees in Utah, the llama says after some time of silence. Bees prefer sugar.

I will not ask. I will not ask. I will not ask.

Bromford will not ask, Kylie says. They prefer sugar to what?

Salt of course, the llama says. And I can almost see it roll its eyes. These Hormones from Utah should have called their capital city Sugar Lake City and not Salt Lake City and the bees with their drones and queens they would be swarming this state for eternity.

To infinity and beyond, Kylie says.

And I only ask myself, why, why, why… again and again and again…

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 62

Today is Thursday, the 6th of June 2019.

I think it's time to wonder why this quiz part of the blog isn't called

Two-thousand-nineteen Shades Of Bromford.

Or did I write this already... once... in the past... whenever...

"Waiting In Bromford"

I got this thing in my head, when I awake in my bed

While I was thinking about when I wondered if you thought about me

I’ve got a pain in my heart whenever we are apart

I’ve got a pain in my head when I awake in my bed

And I was waiting there for you-u, you were waiting there for me-e

I was waiting there for you-u, you were waiting there for me-e-e-e

Ah-ahah ah-ahah ah-ahah

I took the underground, I went eastbound

I went to Bromford

While you were waiting to see me there, I really really want you to know

I’ll never forget your kindness (ah ah), I’ll never forget your grace (ah ah)

I’ll never forget your honor (ah ah), you make the world a beautiful place (ah ah)

I was waiting there for you-u, you were waiting there for me-e

I was waiting there for you-u, you were waiting there for me-e-e-e

Lalalala, lalalala-la, lalalala-la

(Ah-ah-ah) In Bromford, in Brom-ow-ford, Brom-ow-ford

I was waiting there for you-u, you were waiting there for me-e

I was waiting there for you-u, you were waiting there for me-e-e-e

Lalalala-la, lalalala-la

Lalalalaa lala, lalalalaa lalalalala

Lalalala, lalalala, lalalala

The Boise are back in Town...

Today is Wednesday, the 5th of May 2019.

Kylie is calling from Idaho.

I don't know what to tell you about Idaho, Bromford Bibble, Kylie says.

Let It Be, the llama says.

Everything alright with the animal, I ask. It sounds hoarse and bored.

It looks tired, Kylie says.

It's been A Hard Day's Night, the llama says. Everybody's Trying To Be My Baby.

Oh, I see, I say, so the llama is having groupies now?

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da, the llama says. Please Please Me. Roll Over Beethoven in Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. I Saw Her Standing There. With A Little Help From My Friends She Came In Through The Bathroom Window.

Oh, I see, I say. I must admit I am a little bit confused. Why is the animal talking in Beatles' songs, I ask.

Ask Me Why, the animal says. You Won't See Me. I'm Looking Through You. Why Don't We Do It In The Road While My Guitar Gently Weeps?

I don't know what is going on, Kylie says.

Ain't She Sweet, the llama asks. She's A Woman. She Loves You.

Who is loving who, Kylie asks.

You've Got To Hide Your Love Away, Sexy Sadie, the llama tells her. Happiness Is A Warm Gun, Honey Pie. I Am The Walrus. I Feel Fine. Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey.

I think the llama is broken, I tell Kylie. You've got to try to fix it.

I'll Get You Fixing A Hole Within You Without You When I'm Sixty-Four. I Want To Hold Your Hand, Rocky Raccoon, the llama shouts. Run For Your Life.

I'm So Tired, I think while hanging up.