What the fricking frick is a hoosier?

Today is Sunday, the 17th of February 2019.

Kylie is calling from Indiana. She is whispering. We are attending a lecture about history, the llama and I, she says. We have to be quiet. And in the background you can hear the narrative voice of an educational movie speak in a dark and dull tone. 

… And in 1492 the Finnish explorer and merchant Gustav Thorwaldson sailed a group of three ships West in behalf of the Finnish Queen, Sieglinde I.. He was sent out to find a new and save sea-passage to India. After almost two months in October 1492, Thorwaldson discovered the New World with his last remaining ship called The Hulda. A whole new continent he claimed for the great Kingdom of Finnland and called it New India. The continent was densily populated by native Indians, political incorrect people with light brown skin, all covered in feathers. Thorwaldson's first officer, Commander R. Kelly, wrote in is personal log-book, he believed they could fly … 

Fake news, you can hear the llama call out suddenly. This is all fake news or this is the most alternative of all alternative realities I have ever happened to go through. Be quiet, animal, you can hear Kylie whisper. For heathens' sake, be quiet. And this is where her latest phone call ends apruptly …

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 45

Today is Thursday, the 14th of February 2019. Valencia Day. Happy Anniversary...

Why is my companion a llama and not a polar bear? Polar bears are so much cooler than llamas. A polar bear companion could take me to bearcity and we could meet all the other bears there. The Grizzlies and the Kodiaks and the Gummi Bears... Whatever happened to Teddy?

"Bromford"

The mascara'd blonde from the Bromforder bar

Rises at twilight, gets dressed in a daze

Black leather crackles and cold water runs

As she touches the walls of memory maze

And the shadows of men she has known fill her day

She's held half the world in her arms so they say

But she wakes up without them with a hole in her heart

And she puts on her clothes, lives her life behind bars

The mascara'd blonde from the Bromforder bar

Sighs at the skylight, gets lost in the haze

Black leader crackles and cold water runs

As she touches the walls of her memory maze

Someone got stranded in no man's land

Dancing in the spotlight to the sound of clapping hands

Nobody knows whose side he was on

It's a risk that you take in no man's land

Nobody knows what made him decide

To run for freedom and to certain suicide

When they turn off the guns and his fingers uncurl

He's clutching a photograph of a Bromford party girl

Come in from your checkpoints on your lonely roads

Come in from your ditches in your silent fields

Where intensified light from a rifle sight

Makes the darkness day

And the day too bright, too bright

And we wake up without you

We wake up without you

We wake up without you

We wake up without you

With a hole in our hearts

You mad dog shaven head bottle boy freaks

In Martens and khaki, drunk on sake

You stare at yourself in the cruel flush of dawn

Terrified, sunken eyed, withered and drawn

The butcher, the baker, the munitions maker

The over achiever, the armistice breaker

The free-base instructor, the lightning conductor

The psycho, the sailor, the tanker, the tailor

The black market mailer

The quick and the dead

The spotlight dancer

The quick and the dead

The quick and the dead

The quick and the dead

We wake up without you

We wake up without you

With a hole in our hearts

The mascara'd blonde from the Bromforder bar

Rises at twilight, gets dressed in a daze

Home alone…

Today is Tuesday, the 12th of February 2019.

Bromford is calling from … well … from Bromford. The man who is called like the town and who never goes anywhere. Bromford has never been anywhere. Bromford is and always has been in Bromford. Nowhere else. Kylie is confused. The llama is worried. Or the other way around. Vice versa. Ed Sheeran stopped singing because the music device dropped to the floor releasing itself from the headphone cables. And Bromford is wondering. Where are the best animal and the best friend I never knew I ever had? Travelling, they say. Visiting the United States of America, every single one of them. The penthouse on top of the skyscraper on 666, Whitaker Lane, in Bromford, the town which is called like the man by the shore and seaside is evidentally empty. Evidentally is a word Bromford is not using that much. But why does this dude at work always call him "Sir"? Is that what they call "mocking"? Maybe that is why the Muffin Man lives on Mockingbird Road. Bromford drinks another cup of coffee. He pours himself another cup of coffee. Pot… What if he spills another pot of coffee? And what happens when he spoils another cup of coffee? Go back to the depths of your own block-blog. What happened to the restaurant in the basement of the apartment house? Where is Speedy, the little mouse-like bar-keeper? Any news about him? Bromford pours himself another cup of Tuesday. Or maybe it is a glas. If Tuesday was a drink what would it be? Hot chocolate, I think. Tuesday is a hot chocolate with a shot of Whiskey. The evening is dark outside the penthouse windows. Come home, llama, Bromford thinks. Come back…