Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 253

Today is Thursday, the 29th of July 2023.

Where is my mind?

Where is the time?

We will return to the Planet of the Apes one day,

the gorilla said to the orangutan.

Smart professor-move, said the orange one.

Is it a town? Is it a flower? Is it a town? Is it a tower?

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"Days Of Bromford"

Agatha and I go
Down to the courtyard slinging
Last year's Sundays in the river of time
Agatha and I go
Down to the citadel Sunday
Red church bells and the moon on the rise
If you were to tell her
The days are numbered
I'd break the teeth in your fake ass smile
Maybe in a rare wind
Maybe in a month of Sundays
Maybe in a war I would still read the wrong signs
But I don't mind it
Being in the darkness baby
To be by your side
I would walk the Nile twice
Days of Bromford
Each saint with a cross and a hammer
Radiation of the Cherenkov kind
So we go walking
Birds at the window talking
Jubilations in the faint June shine


Agatha and I go
Down to the citadel winning
Things that graciously came to mind
Gathering the day in
Some make arrangements
Some know the way and they just walk a straight line
Well, Curly's a baker's boy
Living for the harvest nights
Turns to me and says something like
"The world only turns twice
Once for the laughter
Once for the memories after
All the rest is just kicking through the weather and the fines"
So we go dancing
Twist turns and all things fancy
"I blame the baker boy", that's what I had on my mind
You in the here now
Me in the far bar
I'd wait forever if they gave me enough time
Outside walking
Birds at the window talking
Iterations of the faint June shine

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 252

Today is Wednesday, the 21st of June 2023.

WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF THOSE CITY-QUIZ-WEEKS,
the monkeys shouted and the Gorillaz were listening...

🎵Sha, sha-ba-da, sha-ba-da-ca, feel good🎵

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"Astonished (In Bromford)"

Out here on the sidewalk
At home in the rain
I count the staining gum spots.
If you connect those dots they spell your name
And I stand astonished.
Do we remain?

Way out here, even the odd matters,
Way out here in the rain.
Still at home here in these splatters
Even the rain spits out your name.
And I stand astonished.
And I remain.
You astonish me.
You astonish me.

Out here on the sidewalk, out here in the rain
I count the staining blood drops from some poor unfortunate.
But if you connect those dots
Even they spell your name.
I stand astonished. I refrain.
I stand astonished. We remain.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 251

 Today is Tuesday, the 13th of June 2023.

These aren't my paws, the monkey said.
I am not leaving such imprints.

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"Boomtown Bromford"

The Oscar goes to Glen Close tonight
She thanks the lord and her mum in the flashing light
I wonder why the academy has forgotten you
With all the brilliant shows you do
Pretending that you're loving me
Starring in my tragedy

So here we go on the walk of fame
The camera rolls, you appear and forget my name
Don't forget to save your tears for the crying scene
Drama queen on wide screen
The carpet's red it's made of blood
From the love that we once had
Still hear you say...


Our love's like Hollywood
Boomtown Bromford
Perfect smile for a while if it sells
Still hear you say
Our love's like Hollywood
Boomtown Bromford
And you're the nominated one
For the category (of) "sham actress"?
With no success
You close your eyes
And hope that god will bless
Your awfully expensive dress
And maybe he'll l forget the rest

The music swells as the hero dies
He gives his life for his love and the audience cries
There ain't no reason good enough to go on like this
A bad taste after every kiss
Fake tears are your speciality
So don't you cry for me

Still hear you say...

 

N ail-varnishs …

»Did you know that the people of Greenlion invented Tuesdays?«

The llama is tugging at the sleeve of Nigel's shirt.

»Leave me alone!« is all Nigel can say.

»The name Tuesday derives from the Old English Tiwesdæg and literally means 'Tiw's Day'. Tiw is the Old English form of the Proto-Germanic god Tîwaz, or Týr in Old Norse. Tîwaz derives from the Proto-Indo-European base dei-, deyā-, dīdyā-, meaning 'to shine', whence comes also such words as 'deity'.«

Nigel is confused and annoyed.

»What diet are you on, llama?« he asks the animal. »I don't know what you are talking about.«

»The god Týr or Tiw is identified with Mars, the god of war in ancient Roman histoy. The Greenlioners, former inhabitants of the island and continent of sunken Greenlion, discovered the Planet of Mars - which is named after the ancient Roman god - and it became the center of their worldview. That's why their week was full of Tuesdays. Seven Tuesdays, to be precise, also known as Tuesone, Tuestwo, Tuesthree …«

»Why are you telling me that? You are making my brain hurt, animal!« Nigel shouts out. »And didn't I hear you saying Saturn was the center of Greenlion's worldview? And by the way, today is Friday, not Tuesday!«

»… Tuesfour, Tuesfive, Tuessix and Tuesseven.«

Meanwhile Claude Sideburns and Kylie are having an other highly scientific conversation.

»Why do you keep calling Ursa Major an asterism?«Kylie asks.

»You can also call it a pattern or group of stars«, Claude answers.

»Can I call it a constellation of stars?«

»Constellations are based on asterisms, but unlike asterisms, constellations outline and today completely divide the sky and all its celestial objects into regions around their central asterisms.«

»I see«, Kylie says. »For example, the asterism known as the Big Dipper comprises the seven brightest stars in the constellation Ursa Major.«

»Yes«, Claude smiles. »Big Dipper is only a part of Ursa Major.«

»And who ate the bear?« asks the llama.

»Strange friends your son has«, Gilbert, the butler, says to Hildegard, the motherkeeper.

»He is not only my son«, Hildegard replies. »He is also your son, Gil!«

Whaaat?

But nobody is surprised anymore nor reacting to this dropped news.

Bored of the life in the City of Gold
He'd left and let nobody know.
Gone were the towers he had known from a child,
Alone with the dream of a life
He travelled the wide open road,
The blinkered arcade,
In search of another to share in his life.
Nowhere.
Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage
Beast that can talk, read the sign.
The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame
And questioned his story again.
But soon they grew bored of their prey
Beast that can talk?
More like a freak or publicity stunt.
Oh
No.

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Today is Friday, the 9th of June 2023.

Parents of the Stars

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 250

Today is Monday, the 5th of June 2023

Is this becoming a daily blockblog, now?

The pig asks.
I don't think so, said the animal leaving paw prints.

And I don't hope so.

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"From Bromford"

I finished writing this song in the summer,
now I'm watching the snowflakes fall.
As the years go by, I wonder if I really like it here at all.
Well, I woke up this morning in a strange town,
the truth is I thought I'd be dead by now.
I guess I'll keep on going until they find me out,
with love from Bromford.

I'm glad that I stayed out drinking,
put some medicine in my mind.
To distract me from this grain of sand,
in the middle of space and a time.
This morning my head is losing the war,
it's cold outside as I walk out the door.
And I get the feeling this has happened before,
with love from Bromford.

I can feel myself disappearing in the early morning sun.
I fade with the road that I'm walking,
with love from Bromford.


As the morning breaks over Southampton,
I'm wondering how long and how far.
Still thinking about that old friend, as the waitress trips over my guitar.
See he stopped singing songs and he moved away,
I can picture him now singing low lands away.
Heard he's picking apples down near Rattlesnake Bay,
with love from Bromford.

I remember early evening the first time Summer showed her face,
we were sat outside with a and wine,
talking about the golden days.
We woke up laughing in the Paris dusk,
and a man on the boat pulled a knife on us.
If time is money and money ain't much,
with love from Bromford.

And I could feel us disappearing in the early morning sun,
for we were just dead men walking,
with love from Bromford.


And I'll be moving on in the morning,
to go searching across this land.
Well, I don't know what I've been looking for yet
and I doubt that I'll ever understand.
I'm a copy of a copy,
in my own version of time.
I'll never see yours and you'll never see mine.
We still see the same sunsets,
walk the same lines,
with love from Bromford.

I started writing this song in the winter,
now I'm watching the spring blossoms fall.
Tell me how can the difference between hours and years,
feel so endless and yet so small.
Well, I left that house about four this morning,
I got a feeling to carry on going.
'Til the cigarettes freeze over and the whiskey stops flowing,
they'll be singing low lands away.

And if Bromford is the days gone by,
then they're the ones that I love.
If now is the place that I'm supposed to be,
it isn't long enough.

Some day soon I'll be a photograph,
underneath my grandson's bed.
I heard there's a universe somewhere,
where this song was written yet.
So, if you feel yourself disappearing in the early morning sun,
just smile and keep on walking,
with love from Bromford.

N ail-scissors …

 
As I follow the black sheep through a gap in the hedges I enter a real labyrinth made of a pulsating green of brenches and leaves which is far from being laurel. Who said or thought they were laurel hedges in the first place?

»They are looking at the wrong places, I hear a deep voice behind my back.«

I turn around. There is nobody there but the black sheep with the red shine in its' round and yet kind of square eyes.

»What is this?« I ask myself. »What do we have got here? Beast that can talk? More like a freak or publicity stunt. Go home to Farmer Farnsworth's farm, you new animal of misfortune.«

»I am not one of Farnsworth's sheep.«

I am losing my mind. After walking and talking llamas we have got a walking and talking sheep right here inside a living and growing hedge-labyrinth.

»Your friends are looking at the stars. They should be looking at the moon.«

The sheep is smiling and standing on its' hind-legs pointing at the sky with one of its' front-legs.

Why did it become night within the blink of an eye?

»Look at the moon, Bromford Bibble. Look how full and round it is. This month they call it the Strawberry Moon.«

»But why?« I think. »It doesn't even look like a strawberry from my point of view.«

»And this is why you made me break my Blockblog-posting routine?« I ask the wooly animal. »What is this? Are we in a fairy-tale now? A lunatic fairy-tale with speaking sheep?«

»I am not a sheep, you know, Bromford Bibble? You should call me by my name.«

My head starts to ache and I am trying to bury my eyes in the palms of my hands to ease the pain.

»Well«, comes a huge sigh out of my chest, »what or who are you then if you aren't a sheep?«

»You can call me Mr. Tumbleweed.«

Are these cicades I can hear singing in the distance?

Bored of the life in the City of Gold
He'd left and let nobody know.
Gone were the towers he had known from a child,
Alone with the dream of a life
He travelled the wide open road,
The blinkered arcade,
In search of another to share in his life.
Nowhere.
Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage
Beast that can talk, read the sign.
The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame
And questioned his story again.
But soon they grew bored of their prey
Beast that can talk?
More like a freak or publicity stunt.
Oh

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Today is Sunday, the 4th of June 2023.

Strawberry Moon

I ce-bounds …

 
»The answer is seven, you know?« I can hear Claude Sideburns whisper to Kylie.

They are standing next to the stone circle pointing at the engraved symbols.

The others of our little company are standing or walking around without sense or direction, myself included.

»Seven?« Kylie asks.

»Seven stars«, Claude mumbles. »Ursa Major is primarily known from the asterism of its main seven stars, which has been called the 'Big Dipper', 'the Wagon', 'Charles's Wain', or 'the Plough', among other names.«

»I see«, Kylie says. »Like in the 'Great Wagon' to differentiate it from the 'Little Wagon' or 'Little Dipper' which shape this stellar configuration mimics.«

»Sounds smart.«

Nigel is passing the other two, kicking stones and sand into the mud around the stone circle.

»So«, Sideburns asks Kylie, »did you see it, too?«

»Did you know that the people of Greenlion invented Saturdays?«

The llama is tugging at the sleeve of my shirt.

»What?« is all I can say.

»The Greenlioners, former inhabitants of the island and continent of sunken Greenlion, discovered the Planet of Saturn and it became the center of their worldview. That's why their week was full of Saturdays. Seven Saturdays, to be precise, also known as Saturone, Saturtwo, Saturthree, Saturfour, Saturfive…«

»I see where you are going«, I try to interrupt.

»Satursix and Saturseven.«

The animal is unstoppable.

»That's what Professor Burnside taught us in llama college in Caracas for archaeology.«

»So there is indeed a person called Professor Burnside?« I want to know. »Or there was?«

Llama is pointing in the direction of Claude Sideburns.

»There he is. The one and only.«

»Oh, animal«, I shake my head. »We already found out that this man's name is Claude Sideburns, not Burnside, and that he isn't a professor for archaeology at all, only an educated layperson. Meanwhile I doubt that you ever studied archaeology or any other subject.«

The animal is just shrugging its' shoulders and wanders off into the front yard of the Castle.

And I just overhear Claude Sideburns' latest words to Kylie, his former archaeologist's assistant, »… and when you connect these seven points on this dial of stone you see…«

»Ursa Major and the Big Dipper!« Kylie shouts out.

»Here, There and Everywhere.«

And from the laurel hedges around Brompton Castle and Brompton Estate the black sheep is giving me a wink. Does it want to me to follow? But why?

Bored of the life in the City of Gold
He'd left and let nobody know.
Gone were the towers he had known from a child,
Alone with the dream of a life
He travelled the wide open road,
The blinkered arcade,
In search of another to share in his life.
Nowhere.
Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage
Beast that can talk, read the sign.
The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame
And questioned his story again.
But soon they grew bored of their prey
Beast that can talk?
More like a freak or publicity stunt.

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Today is Saturday, the 3rd of June 2023.

Laurel Hedges

N ails …

»What are you staring at, folks? Do you mind Hildegard being my mother and not my housekeeper? Or what?«

»And I feel more like his housekeeper and not like his landlady, to be honest.«

»You are his housekeeper not his landlady?«

»Mrs Hudson?«

»Who is Mrs Hudson?«

»Kate Hudson? Leave my analyst out of this!«

»We are not talking about your analyst, dear.«

»Can we go back on track, please?«

»You mean back in line?«

»What line, dude?«

»The storyline, folks! Ursa Major. The dial of stone. The Great Bear in the Northern Sky…«

»Do you still think we have got a storyline here?«

And from the skies above a great bear is grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

Bored of the life in the City of Gold
He'd left and let nobody know.
Gone were the towers he had known from a child,
Alone with the dream of a life
He travelled the wide open road,
The blinkered arcade,
In search of another to share in his life.
Nowhere.
Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail
They don't even know of our existence.
Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold
That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage
Beast that can talk, read the sign.
The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame
And questioned his story again.
But soon they grew bored of their prey
Beast that can talk?

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Today is Thursday, the 1st of June 2023.

Chesire Bear