Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 280

Today is Wednesday, the 28th of February.

In my old days, the white mouse said after she and her twenty-seven cousins scared 

away the elephants, the month of February used to have twenty-eight days.
The twenty-eighth day used to be the last day of February.
Why is it suddenly the penultimate day?
What is wrong in this world?

Don't worry, squeaked her cousins. Take our hands and waltz.

And they danced.

🐁🐁🐁     🐁🐁🐁🐁
🐁🐁🐁     🐁🐁🐁🐁

🐁🐁🐁🐁     🐁🐁🐁
🐁🐁🐁🐁     🐁🐁🐁

"Bromford Waltz"

I've been sitting here patiently,
I've been talking to myself
Trying to shake that sinking feeling,
Wishing I was somebody else

And I know it's not easy,
When you don't get what you deserve
You can say that you love me,
But that's not what I've heard

Tonight in Bromford
Tonight in Bromford
Well it's got to be that way
Tonight in Bromford

Maybe I'll get right out of here,
All the way back to Turnpike Lane
Find me a girl who can calm me right down,
It's been such a fucked up year

And I know it's not easy,
When you don't get what you deserve
You can say that you love me,
But that's not what I've heard

Tonight in Bromford
Tonight in Bromford
Well it's got to be that way
Tonight in Bromford

Maybe I'll get myself together,
Or fall to pieces and run back home
Get me a ticket for an airplane,
I'm tired of being alone

I was on Mulholland Drive with the radio on,
They played Augustus Pablo and the Kings of Leon

We sing, we know it's not easy,
When you don't get what you deserve
And you can say that you love me,
But that's not what I've heard

Tonight in Bromford
Tonight in Bromford
Well it's got to be that way
Tonight in Bromford

I think of you,
How we own each other
I think of you,
Yeah we own each other
Own each other
Tonight in Bromford
Tonight in Bromford
Tonight in Bromford
Tonight in Bromford
Tonight in Bromford
Tonight in Bromford

Mars and the U.S.A.
In fall, and the Milky Way
It's got to be that way
Kinski's on Broadway
Home a million miles away, away, away

You've met your match
Stars catch your eyes
You've tried I'll bet
You've met your match
You burn like fire
I hide your love
You trust your nerve
You burn like fire
I steal I lie
I tried the thrill
You build me up
You steal you lie
And love me still
Like me you tried
You've cried I'll bet
You've met your match
 

Snow Moon …

»Do you think it is really up there?« I ask standing at the door to the roof-terrace of my penthouse apartment above the fifteenth floor of the building on 666, Whitaker Lane, in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside. Did I really once write it was above the fiftieh floor? I am afraid of heights. With shady twirly thoughts I am looking through the glass at the grey, cloudy sky.

The llama is lying on the couch chewing on a crust of bread.

»What do you mean, dude?«

»The moon, animal. I am talking about the moon. It's the Snow Moon and it must be full somewhere up there in the sky behind all those dark clouds.«

»Do you still think there's something magical in a cycle of twelve full-moons?«

The animal is scratching its back against the backrest of the couch.

»You don't really think mentioning the names of the different moons will magically open doors to other worlds and you will meet a faun called Mr. Tumbleweed disguised as a black sheep again, do you, human?«

»Don't be silly.«

As it starts raining I am returning to my armchair and my mug of tea, Earl Grey, hot.

»The faun was fiction, just a flick of my imagination. The Snow Moon is the last full-moon of winter, isn't it?«

The llama is now bouncing up and down with all four legs on the couch now. In not so past times this would have bothered me but I hardly notice that it does not bother me now.

»Doesn't feel like winter to me, dude.«

»It's a very early and stormy spring out there, animal. We are getting close to seasons' end. I heard somebody say, that it might never snow again in Bromford. I miss the snow, animal. I miss the snow.«

Like lots of many times before the llama is leaving the living room not without another sarcastic remark.

»You are a lunatic, Bromford Bibble. Don't forget to take your pills and potions.«

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

Today is Saturday, the 24th of February 2024.

Snow Moon

Yes, I′m being followed by a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow
Leaping and hopping on a moonshadow
Moonshadow, moonshadow

And if I ever lose my hands
Lose my plow, lose my land

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 279

Today is Tuesday, the 20th of February 2024.

This is no "i" in a blue quadrat, says the elephant.
And suddenly the author realizes that this was supposed to be a deviding symbol
for another time and post. Would an elephant be the perfect animal companion?


🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘

🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘🐘

"Bromford Whores"

There were four old whores from Bromford
Drinking the blood red wine
And all the conversation was
“Yours is smaller than mine.”

Through me roly, poly, tickle my hole-y
Smell of my slimy slough
And drag your nuts across me guts
I’m one of the whorey crew

“You’re a liar,” said the first whore
“Mine’s as big as the air
The birds fly in, the birds fly out
And never touch a hair.”

“You’re a liar.” said the second
“Mine’s as big as the sea
The ship sails in, the ship sails out
Never troubles me.”

“You’re a liar,” said the third whore
“Mine’s as big as the moon
The men jump in, the men jump out
Never touch the womb.”

Swab your decks, me hearties
Slice them up with pride
Light your oars, you sons of whores
Yours is smaller than mine
“You’re a liar,” said the last whore
“Mine’s the biggest of all
The fleet sailed in on the first of June
And didn’t come back till Fall.”

Bromford and Butterfly - Part 2

 

OH MY GOODNESS !!! THE SILENCE OF THE BROM !!!

Who are you, human? Clarice Starling or Animal Lecter?

OK, OK. This butterfly won't be my new companion. I'll keep on searching...

🔤🔤🔤🔤
🔤🔤🔤🔤
🔤🔤🔤🔤
🔤🔤🔤🔤

Today is Friday, the 16th of February 2024.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 278

Today is Monday, the 12th of February 2024.

Rhododendron is a strange word, says the badger.
Is it a rhododendron plant blooming? Rhododendron flower?
Is badging a word and a thing? The badger is badging a bad badge...


But now for something completely different...

🦡🦡🦡🦡
🦡🦡🦡🦡
🦡🦡🦡🦡

"Bromford"

Dancing like the nights are down in Nashville
But I seem to know the ghosts who like to run
I got a call to go to a late night picture show
So I traded in the darkness and i'm already glad
I'm already there

And i'm trying to make some friends
So if you see that movie star and me
If you see my picture in a magazine
Or if you fall asleep by the bedroom TV

Well honey i'm just tryin' to make some sense
Outta me

I left a lot of ghosts in San Francisco
And now you wanna say you see through me
But what you wanna see ain't your memories of me
So why you turn around tonight
But i'm already there
I'm already there

And i'm just trying to make some friends
So if you see that movie star and me
If you should see my picture in a magazine
Or if you fall asleep while you're watching TV

Well honey i'm just trying to make some sense
Bromford
Bromford gets cold this time of year
Seems like each day just leaves me numb
I gotta get out of here
Go walking in the sun

Well if you see that movie star and me
Or if you should see my picture in a magazine
Or if you fall asleep by the bedroom TV

But honey i'm just trying to make some sense
Honey i'm just trying to make some friends
Baby i'm not trying to make amends
For coming to Bromford
Oh Bromford

No more Bromford, no more Nashville, no more Oakland
Oh baby come on out to the sea
Come on take a walk down sunset with me

Oh we gonna get drunk, find us some skinny girls, and go street walking
Street walking baby in Bromford!

And man its a really good place to find yourself a taco

Bromford and Butterfly - Part 1

Butterfly?

Yes.

You have never seen a butter fly.

Well, when throwing a piece of butter out of the window you can see it fly, at least for a while. Depends on the height and the storey or floor.

OK, what do you think, how long would it take the butter to smash on the floor if I threw it from the roof-terrace?

Don't you dare, animal! We have been there. We do not throw things from the roof of the apartment-building on 666, Whitaker Lane. We care about our fellow citizens and do not want to hurt innocent passers-by.

Well, speak for yourself, human. And your heading is wrong. It should be 'Bromford and Butterflies'. I count at least four of them.

Frippery frills...

And why 'Part 1'? Is this going to be another multi-parted post? Open the window and let the butterflies out. They may be beautiful in their own way. But they are also very, very, very, very… BORING!

We will see, animal, we will see.

And the human in the picture is still not quite you, dude. Only the eyes. Creepy as always. Like ones of those zombie's from that movie you haven't watched yet.

The Butterfly Effect?

No! WORLD WAR Z!!!

🔡🔡🔡🔡🔡
🔡🔡🔡🔡🔡

Today is Saturday, the 10th of February 2024.

Bromford and Kangaroo …

- NO?

* NO!

- No, I see it. I cannot pick this animal.

* It would be wrong for so many
reasons. Pick it and I will call Marc-Uwe.
Or Friedrich-Wilhelm. Or Hertha.
Or the Hauptman or Captain or
whatever this rank is called in Klingon
military.

- It's not plagiarism, it's a homage!

* A what?

- Call it a tribute. I am not stealing.
There won't be any Kangaroo
Chronicles from my side. But isn't my
tiny, little blockblog without any
readers and its homaging tendencies
a little better than a book called
The Elephant Epics by an author called
Quark-Uwe Klingeling, obviously
copying and an imitation, a rip-off in
so many ways?

* Why don't we leave Marc-Uwe Kling
alone?

- And his kangaroo?

* And his kangaroo, who would start
a discussion about ownership
relationships and the system of
capitalism in general right after you
would have called it 'his' kangaroo.
And Bromford, my human companion
and - yes, I dare to say - my friend,
why don't you give up your great
plan? Why start searching for a new
animal companion? Hasn't the Great
Coincidence brought you the best
animal companion, already?

- Nah, don't think so, animal. This will
be the beginning of the cha… cha…
cha… changes I was talking about
earlier and David Bowie was singing
about.

* But what will become of me if you
find a new companion? Would you
ask me to leave your penthouse and
your life, dude?

- You could go back to where you
came from, animal. Live a life of
nature and freedom, the life of a wild
rover all over again.

* Back to Vietnam?

- You are not the Kangaroo, not a
former member of the Vietcong and
no former foreign worker in the GDR -
The German Democratic Republic.
And you do not have a bottomless
kanagroo's pouch.

* Sorry, dude. I tend to forget that.
Another cup of oats tea, dear? I can
fly and make another pot.
 

And as the animal is leaving the living-room I can hear it mumble,

»And the human dude on the picture is still too thin and too young.«

🔠🔠🔠🔠🔠🔠

Today is Tuesday, the 6th of February 2024.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 277

Today is Sunday, the 4th of February 2024.

In Bromford, on Sunday, the skunk is pale and thin, like you...

Skunk Anansie?

🦨🦨🦨🦨

"In Bromford"

In Bromford
On Sunday
No traffic
On the avenue
The light is pale and thin
Like you
No sound, down
In this part of town
Except for the boy in the belfry
He's crazy, he's throwing himself
Down from the top of the tower
Like a hunchback in heaven
He's ringing the bells in the church
For the last half an hour
He sounds like he's missing something
Or someone that he knows he can't
Have now and if he isn't
I certainly am


Homesick for a clock
That told the same time
Sometimes you made no sense to me
If you lie on the ground
In somebody's arms
You'll probably swallow some of their history

And the boy in the belfry
He's crazy, he's throwing himself
Down from the top of the tower
Like a hunchback in heaven
He's ringing the bells in the church
For the last half an hour
He sounds like he's missing something
Or someone that he knows he can't
Have now and if he isn't
I certainly am

I'll be the girl who sings for my supper
You'll be the monk whose forehead is high
He'll be the man who's already working
Spreading a memory all through the sky

In Bromford
On Sunday
No reason to even remember you now


Except for the boy in the belfry
He's crazy, he's throwing himself
Down from the top of the tower
Like a hunchback in heaven
He's ringing the bells in the church
For the last half an hour
He sounds like he's missing something
Or someone that he knows he can't
Have now and if he isn't
I certainly am

In Bromford
In Bromford