1475 – Gratuitous Yawns | Pickwick 2 | Read With Me | SWM+ Sneak Peek

Episode 1475 – Gratuitous Yawns | Pickwick 2 | Read With Me | SWM+ Sneak Peek

 

SCOOTER: Friends beyond the binary, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, readers, read…if you're readers and…readers and…if you're read to, are you read? Are you a reader? Not…you're a receiver of reading? I mean, that’s a question I’m just…not the best time to be asking myself, but it just popped in my head. There’s readers. I’m in the process of reading. Hey, I’m a reader. I’m gonna read to you. I’m in the process of reading. Listener…I'm listening. I’m in the process of listening. I don't know. Oh boy, yeah, I could do this all day…actually, I kinda do do it all day long. Welcome to Sleep With Me, by the way. If you're new, you may already be confused, which is kind of not really the point to confuse you. The confusion is secondary to the going off topic and me getting mixed up.

 

This is a podcast that’s here to keep you company and take your mind off of stuff so you could fall asleep, to be your friend in the deep, dark night, just friendly background noise, friendly banter, like a show you're not interested in to distract you from whatever keeps you awake and to break through the loneliness or whatever feeling it is like that, to have a mild presence, a person you're not accountable to entertaining and who’s not necessarily entertaining on their own, either. ‘Cause you say, if I’m read to, is there…? I mean, there…I just don't have an extensive vocabulary. I mean, I have an extensive familiarity with words, which could be construed — there’s a vocabulary word — as a large vocabulary. But I don't know if it’s familiar. That it’s like, yeah, no, I’m familiar with a lot of birds that I’ve seen before. Couldn't name any of them. A lot of times in my head, they're…you say, well, there’s one with a red…it’s got a red patch and then it’s got…it’s got some yellow under its chin.

 

Sir, no birds have chins. Well, you know what I’m talking about. You know what I’m talking about. It’s got that red thing on…I don't know if it’s a shoulder. It’s on his shoulder? Sir, I don't think you're familiar with birds at all. It’s one of those birds…it makes…it’s on…I’ve seen it on a branch before. I just lost the birder with my brain. But anyway, welcome to Sleep With Me. It’s a podcast to be your friend in the deep, dark night. Give it a few tries if you're new. Regular listeners, glad to have you back once again. Read, rang, rung…if I was trying to…can you conjure…? What is that called, congregate? Con…I can't say it. Don't know what it means, can't say it. Congregate. Conjugate. I think it’s conjugate. You say…I was just gonna make a joke with conjugate and con…something, and then I said, no, don't do it, man. You've already dug yourself a deep enough…that’s enough confusion for one beginning of an episode. So, if you're new, just see how the show goes.

 

I’ll be here for about a hour doing stuff like this. What we got coming up is support so paying for the podcast is optional and just for those people who get the most out of the show. Then there’s a long, meandering intro meant to ease you into bedtime, and then eventually we’ll be reading from the Pickwick Papers or paraphrasing, para-reading. That’s pretty much what I’ll be doing, para-reading. I’ll be reading and making…not a running commentary, but…especially this part. So, I’m glad you're here. Whether you're new or you're coming back for your thousandth, two-thousandth, three-thousandth time, I really hope I can help you fall asleep. If this podcast has changed your life, it makes your life better on a regular basis, you're already falling asleep, you normally don't pay attention to what I say, you're the kinda listener…you listen all night long, this is already your fifth episode; you just happen to be hearing me now, you're the people we need to support the show back, only you, only if the podcast has changed your life for the better for a while, like six months or more. So, if that’s a yes, please consider…you say, how can I support this thing that makes my life better? These are the ways we could use it. Thanks.

 

Intro: Hey, are you up all night tossing, turning, mind racing? Trouble getting to sleep? Trouble staying asleep? Well, welcome. This is Sleep With Me, the podcast that puts you to sleep. We do it with a bedtime story. Alls you need to do is get in bed, turn out the lights, and press Play. I’m gonna do the rest. What I’m going to attempt to do is create a safe place where you could set aside whatever’s keeping you awake. It could be thoughts on your mind, thoughts about the past, the present, the future, thoughts you're thinking about, feelings, anything coming up for you emotionally related to those thoughts, feelings from…about the past, the present, the future, feelings that are there, physical sensations, changes in time, temperature, routine, you could be going through something, you could be getting over something, in the middle of something, traveling, be a guest, work a different schedule, just be in the middle of it. Whatever it is that’s keeping you awake, I’m here to try to help.

 

The only reason I run through some of that stuff is so you feel seen and you get the sense you might be in a place where you're somewhat understood. I don't want to say you're totally understood, but that myself and the other listeners here, we…I don't know if you've…whatever it is that’s keeping you awake, you've ever told somebody about it and they're like, nah…what? Or you even think about it in your head; you're like, I’m not gonna tell…how’d you sleep? You say, well, I’d just rather keep it to myself, because the times I’ve shared it in the past, I’ve felt like…I'm not sure if…I'm sure this is the incorrect use of ‘diminutive’, but I felt diminutived. You say, can you explain that metaphor in another metaphor? Yeah. So, let’s say…they say, hey, hey, Scoots. Double pointy fingers at you. You ready to level up your sleep? I’m not sure. Well, how’s your sleep? We gotta first determine your level before you can level it up. I say, well, my sleep, it’s…sometimes it’s okay. Oh, that’s not gonna be…no, no, no.

 

Okay? That’s not…what kind of…? We gotta reframe your intentions there. Okay. You're doing it…clearly you're doing it wrong, so we have to…we’ll have to start from zero. Okay, well, if I start from zero, aren't I levelling…? I thought we were gonna be doing a levelling up. Aren't we gonna be…? I guess if I do anything, is that levelling up, then? But I don't know if I want to…I think I’m fine at the…the level I’m at is good. Oh, that sounds like somebody that’s…I don't know if you've ever had that, but that person, when they were done…they don't know it, but they say, dim…there’s probably a word in there. Dim…I can't even say that word. Diminutive? I don't think that’s the word, either. Diminutived. I guess you could say that, diminutived. That would be like in…it just reminds me of the guild. Diminutived. Anyway, what was I…?

 

Oh, so if you're new here or you're a regular listener, I just like to remind you that whatever is keeping you awake, a lot of us know or can relate to how it feels, whether it’s deep down or only in the middle or only on the surface or all of those things, 'cause I know what it feels like for me. Trouble getting to sleep; oh boy. I thought last…last night I was exhausted. Well, not quite exhausted, but really tired 'cause I hadn't slept for a couple days very well. I was like, oh, this one’s a lock, man. Nope, it was not a lock, falling asleep. So, I had trouble getting to sleep and then trouble staying asleep later on. So, I know what it feels like for me, and at different stages in my life and different things, it feels different ways. None of it feels great. None of it is something I’m like, oh…you know what? I don't have a lot of nostalgia. I mean, the only time you'd have sleepless nostalgia is if you get some transcendent moment where you're looking at the moon, but I think you could do that anyway.

 

You don't have to be tired to do that. You say, well, yeah, 4:00 a.m….okay, I do…here's…people always want to have stuff that’s somewhat embarrassing, right? I can't believe I’m going on this topic…tangent within…we're like…I'm within four tangents. But I guess I do have nostalgia. Now, it wasn't…it wasn't the fact that I couldn't sleep, though. Koa couldn't sleep 'cause she’s going through it. My dog’s name is Koa, K-O-A. So, she’s…so, I said, hey, let’s…and we were dog-sitting, so we weren't at our home. But the place we were dog-sitting, it has a outdoor area where…that’s enclosed where I could just let her out to go to the bathroom, right? So, I was in what I go to bed in, which is minimal clothing; just the old shorts de boxers. My…what do you call it? My meanderwear, one-piece meanderwear. So, she goes outside, and there’s another dog that I’m dog-sitting that…I don't want to brag; the dog really likes me. So, it’s like, I’m coming with you. It’s a smaller dog.

 

So, me and this smaller dog are watching 'cause Koa’s just at the point in her life where she doesn't even necessarily…I have to make sure she goes to the bathroom 'cause she doesn't necessarily remember if she goes or not. So, we're watching Koa, and Koa can't quite…it’s a small, enclosed area. So, Koa, basically after a time decides…she either forgets that she had to go to the bathroom or she decides, none of these spots appeal to me. Now, we were already downstairs. It was like, 4:00 in the morning. Wow, this is like…if you're new…but this is the person that makes the podcast. So, at some point Koa had been out there trying to decide. She was clearly in a decision-making, sniffing mode, and it was cold. So, I wrapped myself in the one blanket I could find, which was a tartan plaid-type blanket, like one of those wool plaid blankets, 'cause I was not…I had shorts, like less…I had shorts…boxer shorts, I mean. Meanderwear. That’s actually me underwear, my…yeah. Oh boy.

 

So, I have it wrapped around my shoulders, and then I don't want to go back upstairs where I was sleeping, 'cause this house is carpeted. I said, well, I gotta take Koa outside. I had no clothing at my hand, so I had to…I took this tartan plaid blanket and I wrapped it around myself a bit like a kilt, a improvisational kilt. Then I put on my black jean jacket and then my running shoes, and Koa and I, we stepped out, man. Talk about stepping out on the town. I was dressed to do it. So, I’m holding this kilt on, because I say, oh boy, this better not fall off. Then we go outside, and Koa takes…we took a little stroll. I guess I do…I could…there’s the possibility, now that I’ve shared this so it will be more concrete in my mind, that I may have nostalgia for that moment.

 

But in the defense of the metaphor I was trying to make when I went off topic with the other metaphor, I don't necessarily know that that was my sleeplessness, 'cause it was kinda Koa…Koa’s…my care for Koa, my role as Koa’s care buddy kinda…so, I’ll look back on it with nostalgia, but it wasn't 'cause I just woke up 'cause I couldn't sleep, you know? So, alls I’m saying is whatever it is that’s keeping you awake…and maybe the…I mean, if someone was to come across me, they would have been like, I don't think I can unsee this. Are you a grown man? Do you have a shirt on? No, just a black jean jacket and a small blanket. Yeah, that’s what I’m wearing when I’m walking my dog, yes. And it is, yes, very early or late at night, depending on how you define it. So, whatever’s keeping you awake…I guess my main point was that I know how it feels, and even if I don't know exactly what you're going through, right, that’s a pretty unique situation.

 

Not everybody's been through that situation, walking their dog with…the old walking the dog with a jean jacket and a wool blanket at 4:00 a.m. and in a series of townhomes or whatever. But I can bet you know what I felt like, or you have a general sense of my internal state, which was…I mean, in the sleeplessness and everything else, right, because you have some experiences that are similar for you, and that’s what this show is all about. I know what it feels like for me. I can maybe relate to how it feels for you. Even if I can't, there are people listening right now across the world who can relate to what it’s like for you, right? Maybe you're not a pet owner, so you can't relate to me, but there’s a lot of other people that can, and that’s okay. But we're all rooting for each other with this show, whether you're a new or a long-time listener, to just get the rest you need on as regular a basis if you…that you can, because you deserve the rest you need so your life is more manageable and so that you could be out there eventually flourishing.

 

You don't have to dread bedtime anymore. You got this podcast to look forward to or at least feel neutral about, and you know a real human being…you say, wow, that’s some serious human-being stuff there. Yeah, that’s me. I’m out there. I mean, I won't be out there again the next night, believe me. I prepared. So, I said, okay, if this happens again, I’m putting a pair of shorts and my sweatshirt by the front door. So, again, live and learn, too. Actually, it did happen the next night, but I put on my shorts and then I put on my sweatshirt and then we went out in the world. So, what is my point? I’m glad you're here and I hope I can help you. Now, if you're new, the thing is that this does take some getting used to. This show is a bit different and it takes some time to get used to. So, just give it a few tries and see how it goes. You really have nothing to lose. That’s just what most regular listeners said. The first couple times they said, I thought this was a sleep podcast. You're talking about dog…?

 

This is…you're talking about dog walking and in some ridiculous manner. Can you imagine…? Say, who walks their dog in a…? That’s not…sir, that’s not a kilt. I work for Kilt International, and that is not a kilt…no, it’s like a wool blanket. It’s actually a little itchy, but I had…it’s for Koa’s sake, not mine. So, just doing my duty. Well, I was doing my duty so she could do her duty or non…you know, number one or her duty. So, yeah, pardon the pun. So, yeah, just see how it goes. Now, if you decide after a couple listens…like, for most people, they find out after two or three listens…they say, oh, I had no idea something like this could help me, but I fell asleep. I didn't know to look for something like this. I didn't know I needed a friend in the deep, dark night to just distract me. But if you figure out, no, you're not for me, this show is not for me, that’s okay, too.

 

I have a website set up, sleepwithmepodcast.com/nothankyou, with other sleepy stuff on there, so maybe something like that can help you out versus this show. So, just check that out. It has other sleep podcasts and stuff. But yeah, this takes a couple tries to get used to 'cause it’s a podcast you kinda listen to like background noise or a out-of-focus picture, and I’m not here to put you to sleep, either. I’m here to keep you company while you fall asleep, to be your bore-friend, your bore-bae, your bore-sib, your neigh-bore, your borebie, your bores, your boreman, your best bore-friend f’eva, to keep you company and take your mind off of stuff and distract you, because there’s people listening who can't sleep at all. There’s no pressure to fall asleep with this show. That’s why it’s over an hour. That’s why it comes out multiple times a week. That’s why there’s hundreds of episodes in the archive ready to go, so you don't have to think about when you're gonna fall asleep.

 

I’m gonna be here to keep you company, your Boris Borelaf. So, that’s…and the only other thing I like to run through is the structure of the show just in case you're new or you're like, why is the show structured the way it is? There is a lot of different ways to listen, but the way the most people benefit…it doesn't mean it’s the right way to listen; it just means this is the way most people listen. Most people would rather not pay for this podcast. They would prefer just an ad-supported version, and they listen to it linearly, which means they just let the episode play and it stops at the end. So, the structure of the show is built around that idea. If you decide…you become a regular listener, there are a lot of other ways non-most people listen. Like, there’s…whatever. I’m not good with the majority of…whatever those things…but you heard my vocabulary already.

 

But so, the show starts off for everybody with a greeting; friends beyond the binary, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, so you feel seen and welcomed in and you say, oh, okay, I’ll check that show out. I’ll give it a try. Then there’s a long, meandering…oh no…no, no, that’s…then there’s support so that paying for the show is optional. If you prefer something without ads, you listen all night long, the show makes your life better, you could support the show at Sleep With Me+. You get ad-free episodes and a ton of other stuff. But most people, they just prefer that. Then they…so, then there’s the support, then there’s a long, meandering intro, which we're like twenty minutes into now, and that’s like ten or twenty minutes long meant to introduce the podcast. It’s different every single time, but it follows a familiar structure so that it feels…you say, okay, it feels reassuring but it’s different so it doesn't…whatever keeps you awake can't quite adjust.

 

I can guarantee, even for the regular listeners, it’s been a long time since I talked about walking my dog in my…I mean, it was not…I was clothed. Yeah, I don't know if I’ve ever had an improvised kilt before. Or, it was more like a skirt than a kilt. Was it…? No, it was not complimentary, I don't think. I mean, I guess it kinda went with it 'cause I had a black jean jacket on. That was the worst part. If I saw somebody with a kilt or a skirt, I’d say, okay, that looks very smart. But then you see the jean jacket with nothing on underneath, and you say, you can't…I say, you know, walking the dog’s…too hard to button it up. Okay, so the intro goes on and on and on not just to introduce what the podcast is but also to ease you into bedtime, to wind down. So, you could listen as you're in bed getting comfortable, you're getting ready for bed, or you're chilling out doing some wind-down activity. That’s what’s just been shown to work. So, the intro is not meant to put you to sleep.

 

It could put you to sleep, or you could listen to Bedtime Stories from Sleep With Me, which is another podcast without intros, but the intro is meant to ease you into bedtime, and it’s a time we hang out together and we…I share…we get to know one another and you have a little guffaw. So, that’s the intro, then there’s support again so that podcast the can come out regularly and everybody can benefit from it, not just the subscribers, and then there’s a bedtime story. Tonight we’ll be reading from the Pickwick Papers. There will be a ball, there will be a doc with a quite…Doc Slammer. That’s really the name of the doctor in the story. It’s quite an entertaining…even though I didn't totally understand everything that was happening, I understood enough to be entertained. So, yeah. Then…yeah, that’s the structure of the show. That’s why I make the show. I’m really glad you're here. Myself and a team of people, we work really hard.

 

We really believe in the mission of the show, which is to ease your discomfort in the deep, dark night. So, thank you for coming by and giving us your time, whether you're a regular listener or you're new. If this podcast has impacted your life in a positive way, it has made your life better, please consider supporting the show back so we can be here for…continue to benefit you and all the other people who can't support the show or who just need the show for a little while. Sleep With Me doesn't make everybody's life better for six months or a year, two years, or three years. Sometimes people just need the show for a couple months. So yeah, if Sleep With Me has made your life better on a regular basis, particularly right now when you're hearing this — you'll hear me again right after this — we really could use your support back, and here's the ways you could do it.

 

Hey everybody, this is Scoots. This is a episode of our read-through of the Pickwick Papers. We’ve been doing this on Sleep With Me+ for about a year. Now it’s finally making its way out into the public feed. So, I really hope you enjoy it. If you're on Sleep With Me+ and you're hearing this, you got this episode about a year ago. So, make sure you're checking your full episode feeds or your story-only episode feeds, and don't forget to check your bonus feeds every once in a while. But this has been a really enjoyable series to cover with the friends meandering throughout England and friendship. So, I really hope you enjoy this episode with Sleep With Me and read with me the Pickwick Papers. Thanks, and goodnight, everybody.

 

Alright everybody, it’s Scoots here, and we're reading the Pickwick Papers. When we last left off they were talking about loading up the coach. Heavy luggage, getting on board, and the really good thing like the chit-chatting of the people in the audience. We’ll take it from there. Let’s go back to the…yeah, it’s rough here working. Yeah, the kids’ mother, eating sandwiches…I forgot the arch. Oh, watch that, children. Sandwiches, put them in…head of a family. Looking at Whitehall, sir? A fine place. A little window…somebody else’s head’s looking, too. Keep a sharp eye out, though. This is a small thing. Huh, sir? Huh? I am ruminating, said Pickwick, on the strange mutability of human affairs. Ah, I see. In the palace door one day; out the window the next. Philosopher, sir? An observer of human nature, sir, said Mr. Pickwick. Ah, so am I. Most people are when they've little to do and less to get. A poet, sir? My friend Mr. Snodgrass has a strong poetic turn, said Mr. Pickwick. So have I, said the stranger.

 

Epic poem, 10,000 lines…Revolution of July. Composed it on the spot. Mars by day, Apollo by night. Bang the field piece, twang the lyre. You were present at that glorious scene, sir? Said Mr. Snodgrass. Present, I think I was. Yes, with an idea. Rushed into a wine shop. I wrote it down, back again. Whiz bang, another idea. Wine shop again…pen and ink…back again. Yeah, time to get…and then some editing. Noble time, sir. Sportsman, sir? Abruptly turning to Mr. Winkle. A little, sir, replied that gentleman. Fine pursuit, sir. You like dogs as much as I do, sir? Not right this moment, replied Mr. Winkle. Ah, a dog’s good for any moment. Fine animals. Sagacious creatures. Dog of my own once, a pointer, surprisingly friendly. Oh, what a companion. I love to whistle, and the dog would listen when I whistled. I’d say, come on, buddy, and he’d come on. I’d say, stop, buddy, and he would stop. I called him Popo. Oh, Popo, oh, Popo.

 

Then one time I learned that Popo could read, 'cause Popo — my…that’s my dog, by the way — was staring at a sign. I’ve heard that this…in the future it will be even more famous. But he looked up at the sign and then I looked at the sign, for Popo had seen it before mine eyes had laid upon it. It said, No Dogs Allowed. No Dogs…I mean, it only said it once. No Dogs Allowed is what it said. I said, Popo, you reading that sign? It says No Dogs Allowed. I looked at Popo. Popo looked at me, that wonderful dog. So, we went on our way. No dogs were allowed. That is Popo. Valuable dog, that Popo, very. Huh, singular circumstance, that, said Mr. Pickwick. Will you allow me to take note of it? Oh, certainly, sir. I’ve got a hundred more anecdotes about that same dog. Fine…Popo is a girl. Sometimes people call dogs…I'd say, yeah, it’s Popo. Very, said Mr. Tupman. What’s that, Tupman? Can you keep your eyes in the carriage, please, sir? Certainly. Yeah, I get it, man, but I gotta run this thing.

 

You've…have you travelled a lot, sir? Travelled a bit. You travelled to Spain, sir? I travelled a bit to Spain. Who are you? Mr. Tracy Tupman, sir. Did you live in Spain? I may have lived there for a bit, yeah. I may have even had a portmanteau there. But yeah, I’ve gone there before. I’ve travelled. But I’m not conversing about what you're conversing about, Tupman. Well, I just wanted to know some of your personal affairs. Tracy Tupman, I’m inquiring on your personal affairs. Well, it’s not…you can inquire, sir, but I won't explain. Sorry, I’ve gotta touch my right eye here with my handkerchief. Sometimes I get a tummy-tum-tum-tum. Well, could I ask you more about your personal affairs? No, Mr. Tupman, you may not. I’ve had my ups, I’ve had my downs, and…yeah, I even had tears at the public fountain and the great square. I mean, I will tell you this; I’ve searched the city for love just like everybody else has, and not just the love of another, but the love of the city, the love of the pigeons, the love of the moment.

 

I remember one time I was at that great square. The whole city, man, they were talking, and there was a stoppage. So, the fountain was stopped. I would say ceased playing, but maybe that’s not how you describe it. There was people in there cleaning it off, drawing the water off and getting it ready for another time so that when more people came they could be at the fountain. Well, that’s interesting, sir. Snodgrass here; do you mind if I write that down about that…? That’s very…almost poetic, a fountain…the idea of a fountain playing. It’s affected me. Certainly, Snodgrass. Go right ahead. I got fifty more of those if you'd like to hear them. I’ve lived a strange life. I’ve got a rather curious history; not extraordinary, but as your friend said, singular. You may say I was one…you could say I was one singular sensation. In all of this noise, with the occasional glass of ale by way of parenthesis, when the coach changed horses, this stranger proceeded until they reached Rochester by bridge, by which time the notebooks…so, this guy just went on and on and on in summary, and they drank ale.

 

Time passed, and the notebooks of Pickwick and Snodgrass were filled completely with selections from his adventures, tall tales told. We get to the point…we have exclamations underlying what I’ve just said. Magnificent ruins, said Mr. Augustus Snodgrass — not Gloop; Snodgrass — with all the poetic fervor that distinguished him when they came in sight of the fine, old castle. So, I guess he wasn't referring to that story. What a sight for an antiquarian, were the very words which fell from Mr. Pickwick’s mouth as he applied his telescope to his eye. Ah, fine place, said the stranger. Glorious pile, frowning walls, tottering arches, dark nooks, and maybe even some crannies, crumbling staircases, an old cathedral, too. Earthy smell. Pilgrims’ feet wore away the old steps. Little Saxon doors, confessionals almost like boxes at theatres.

 

These monks, popes, lords, and all sorts of old fellows with great, red faces, their noses turning up every day; match locks…you know, all the other accoutrements of a castle, old legends, too, strange stories. Capital. The stranger continued to soliloquize, which I’ve never heard before, but oh, he did soliloquize like a sleep podcaster until they reached the Bull Inn in High Street where the coach stopped. Do you remain here, sir? Inquired Mr. Nathaniel Winkle. Do you mind if I call you Nate, Nate Winkle? But here…not I, but you'd better. It’s a good house. Nice beds. Wright’s next house, dear. Very, dear. Half a crown in the bill if you look at the waiter. Charge you more if you dine at a friend’s than they would if you dined in the coffee room. Rum fellows very. Mr. Winkle turned to Mr. Pickwick and murmured a few words. A whisper passed from Mr. Pickwick to Mr. Snodgrass, from Mr. Snodgrass to Mr. Tupman, and nods of assent were exchanged. Mr. Pickwick addressed the stranger.

 

You rendered us a very important service this morning, sir, said he. Will you allow us to offer a slight mark of our gratitude by begging the favor of your company at dinner? Great pleasure. Not to presume to dictate, but broiled fowl and mushrooms; capital thing. What time? Let me see, replied Mr. Pickwick, referring to his watch. It is now nearly 3:00. Shall we say 5:00? Suits me excellently, said the stranger. 5:00 precisely. ‘Til then, take care of yourselves. Lifting the pinched-up hat a few inches from his head and carelessly replacing it very much on the other side, the stranger, with half the brown paper parcel sticking out of his pocket, walked briskly up the yard and turned into the high street. Evidently a traveller in many countries, a close observer of men and things, said Mr. Pickwick about the man. I should like to see his poem, said Mr. Snodgrass. Harrumph. I should have liked to see that dog, Popo, reading the sign, said Mr. Winkle.

 

Mr. Tupman said nothing 'cause he was in…trying to get into his personal business. But he thought of the stories he tried to get out of him, and the fountain, and he was overwhelmed with quietude. A private sitting room had been engaged, bedrooms inspected, dinner ordered, and the party walked out to view the city and the adjoining neighborhood. We do not find from a careful perusal of Mr. Pickwick’s notes of the four towns, Stroud, Rochester, Chatham, and Brompton, that his impressions of their appearance differ in any material point from those of other travellers who have gone over the same ground. His general description is easily abridged. The principle production of these towns, said Mr. Pickwick, appears to be soldiers, sailors, chalk, officers, docks, the commodities chiefly exposed for sale in the public streets or marine stores; hard-bake apples, flat fish, and oysters. The streets present a lively and animated appearance occasioned chiefly by the conviviality of the people in uniform.

 

It is truly delightful to a philanthropic mind to see these gallant people staggering under the influence of an overflow of ardent spirits, and especially when we remember that following them about, ingesting with them, affords a cheap and innocent amusement for the boy, for everyone around. Nothing, adds Mr. Pickwick, can exceed their good humor. It was the day before my arrival that one of them had been in…was in a pub insulted by the publician. They had refused to draw him any more pints, in return for which he had started to say things in jest. He’s…claims in playfulness only, and the woman working at the bar said, this is an unkind thing you're saying. Then the next day, the person came in and made apologies, expressed his readiness to overlook the matter and forget what had occurred. Oof, that’s a confusing story, Pickwick. The consumption of tobaccos in these towns, continues Pickwick, must be very great.

 

The smell which pervades the streets must be exceedingly delicious to those who are extremely fond of smoking. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, they’d…and even if…smoke ‘em if you need ‘em. If you don't, keep moving through town. A superficial traveller might object to the dirt on the ground, because that’s the leading characteristic. Sticks to your shoes. But to those who view it as a indication of traffic and commercial prosperity, this dirt is truly gratifying. Punctual to 5:00 came the stranger, and shortly afterwards the dinner. He had divested himself of his brown paper parcel but had made no alteration in his attire, and his attire…and was, if possible, more loquacious than ever. What’s that? He inquired as a waiter removed one of the covers over the food. Soles, sir. Soles? Ah, a capital fish. All come from the London stage coach. Proprietors get up, political dinners, even. Carriage of soles, hardy, har, har. Oh, S-O-L-E-Ss, friends, dozens of baskets. Glass of wine, sir? With pleasure, said Pickwick.

 

The stranger took wine first with him, then with Mr. Snodgrass, and then with Mr. Tupman, and then with Mr. Winkle, and then with the whole party together, almost as rapidly as he talked. Quite a mess on the staircase, waiter, said the stranger. Forms going up? Carpenters coming down? Lamps? Glasses? Harps? What’s going forward? Ball, sir, said the waiter. Assembly, eh? No, sir, not assembly, sir; ball. A ball for the benefit of charity, sir. Oh, has everybody come with a date? Said Mr. Tupman with great interest. But the stranger interrupted him. Splendid. Capital. Kent, sir. Everybody knows Kent; apples, cherries, hops, balls. Glass of wine, sir? With great pleasure, replied Mr. Tupman. The stranger filled and emptied. I should very much like to go to this ball, said Mr. Tupman, very much. Tickets at the bar, sir, interposed the waiter. Half a guinea each, sir.

 

Mr. Tupman again expressed an earnest wish to be present at the festivity, but meeting no response in the eye of Mr. Snodgrass or the abstracted gaze of Mr. Pickwick, he applied himself with great interest to the port wine and dessert which had just been placed on the table. The waiter withdrew, and the party were left to enjoy the cozy couple of hours succeeding the dinner. Beg your pardon, sir, said the stranger. Bottle stands. Pass it around. Wave the sun. Through the button hole. No heel taps, as he emptied his glass, which he had filled about two minutes before and poured out another with the air of a man who was used to it, much like your old sleep podcaster years ago. The wine was passed and a fresh supply ordered. The visitor talked. The Pickwickians listened. Mr. Tupman felt every moment more disposed for the ball. Mr. Pickwick’s countenance glowed with an expression of universal philanthropy, and Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass fell fast asleep.

 

They're beginning upstairs, said the stranger. Here are the company, fiddles turning; now the harp. There they go. The very sounds which found their way downstairs announced the commencement of the first quadrille. How I should like to go, said Mr. Tupman again. So should I, said the stranger. Confounded luggage. Heavy smacks. Nothing to go in. Odd, ain’t it? Now, general benevolence was one of the leading features of the Pickwickian theory, and no one was more more remarkable for the zealous manner in which he observed so noble a principle than Mr. Tracy Tupman. TT, we could call him if we wished, since he’s not here to argue with me. TT. I like how it sounds. The number of instances recorded on the transactions of the society in which that excellent man, TT, referred objects of charity to the houses of other members for left-off garments or pecuniary relief is almost incredible. TT said, I should very happily lend you a change of apparel for the purpose.

 

But one issue; you are quite slim, and I am like a grown-up Bacchus. You got it. Yeah…yeah, I’m not double distilled or double milled. Pass the wine. Now, whether TT was somewhat indignant at the peremptory tone at which he was desired to pass the wine, which the stranger passed so quickly away, whether he felt properly…said like…that he was among his Pickwickian club and compared to a dismounted Bacchus, this fact could never be ascertained, but he did pass the wine and coughed twice, and looked at the stranger for several seconds with a stern intensity. But that individual, the stranger — not TT — appeared perfectly collected and quite calm under his searching glance. He gradually relaxed and reverted to the subject of the ball. I was about to observe, sir, he said, that my apparel would be too large. A suit of my friend Winkle’s would perhaps fit you better. The stranger took Mr. Winkle’s measure with his eye, and that feature glistened with satisfaction as he said, just the thing.

 

Mr. Tupman looked around him. The wine, which had exerted its somniferous influence over Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle, like the voice of a sleep podcaster and his rambles, had also stolen upon the senses of Mr. Pickwick. That gentleman had gradually passed through the various stages which proceed the lethargy produced by dinner and its consequences. [Yawns] Gratuitous yawns on behalf of the Pickwickians. He had undergone the ordinary transitions from the height of conviviality to the depth of snoozy snoozery, and from snoozy snoozery back to conviviality like a gas lamp in the street. He had exhibited for a moment an unnatural brilliancy which sank so low as to be barely and scarcely discernible. After a short interval he showed up again to enlighten for a moment, then flickered with an uncertain staggering sort of light, and then winked out altogether.

 

His head was sunk upon his bosom, and perpetual snoring with cartoonish-like sound effects between the snores were the only audible indications of the great man’s presence. Meanwhile, the temptation to be present at the ball and to form his first impressions of everyone there and see who would come as a couple and who would not was strong upon Tupman, or TT. The temptation for TT to take the stranger with him was equally great, 'cause he didn't want to go solo since he was wholly unacquainted with the place and its inhabitants. The stranger seemed to possess a great knowledge of both as if he lived there from infancy. Mr. Winkle was asleep, and TT had sufficient experience in such matters to know the moment he awoke he would, in the ordinary course of nature, head to bed. He said, man, what are we gonna do? I can't wake him up to ask him for his clothes for you. I’m undecided. Fill your glass and pass the wine, said the visitor.

 

TT did as he was requested, and the additional stimulus of that last glass settled his determination. I got a bit of an idea here. Winkle’s bedroom is inside mine, said Mr. Tupman. I couldn't make him understand what I wanted if I woke him now, 'cause he’s probably a little bit lit and sleeping. But I know he has a dress suit in a carpet bag, and supposing you wore it to the ball and took it off when we returned, we could place it without troubling him at all about the matter. You've heard of that before, right? It’s a trope in fiction. Return it where…return it none the wiser. None the wiser. That’s capital, said the stranger. Famous plan, right? Odd situation. Fourteen coats in the packing cases, and obliged to wear another man’s. I got fourteen coats, but they're all packed up. It’s a very good notion, that. Very good. Well, we gotta purchase our tickets, said TT. Not worthwhile splitting a guinea, said the stranger. Let’s toss a coin. Who will pay for both? I’ll call you. Spin it the first time. He flipped it.

 

It was a sovereign with a puppy, puppy on it. Mr. Tupman rang the bell. Yeah, Tupman, you're paying, basically. Tupman, TT, purchased the tickets and rang the bell, and also ordered the chamber candlesticks. In another quarter of an hour the stranger was completely arrayed in a full suit of Mr. Nate Winkle’s. It’s a new coat, said Tupman, and the stranger surveyed himself with great complacency in the mirror with a Cheval gloss. The first that’s been made with our club button. He called his companions’ attention to the large gilt button which displayed a bust of Mr. Pickwick in the center and the letters PC on either side. PC? Said the stranger. PC? What is this? Who is this guy? PC? What does this stand for? Peculiar Coat? That was a mistake, 'cause TT, with rising indignation and great importance, explained the mystic device. Rather short in the waist, ain’t it?

 

Said the stranger, screwing himself around to catch a glimpse of…in the glass of the waist buttons and his rear end, which were halfway up his back like a general postman’s coat. Mysterious dispensations of providence; long coats…short coats, long coats. How come I can't get a quote that…coat that fits me? Running on in this way, coaty, coaty, coat…a bunch of stuff about the coats. Mr. Tupman’s new companion adjusted his dress, or rather the dress of Mr. Winkle, and accompanied by Mr. Tupman ascended the staircase leading to the ballroom. Ahem. What names, sir? Said the man at the door. Mr. Tracy Tupman was stepping forward to announce his own titles when the stranger prevented him. No, no, no. Trust me on this one, TT. No names at all. Then he whispered to TT, names won't do. Not known. Very good names in their way, but not great ones. Capital names for a small party, but won’t make an impression in public assemblies. Incognito; that’s the thing.

 

We're gentlemen from London, distinguished. We have a air of mystery. And the door was thrown open. Mr. Tracy Tupman, TT, and the stranger entered the ballroom. It was a long room with crimson-coated benches and wax candles and glass chandeliers. The musicians were securely confined in an elevated den, and quadrilles were being systematically got through by two or three sets of dancers. Two card tables were made up in the adjoining card room, and pairs of people and a corresponding number of people were playing games within. The finale concluded and the dancers promenaded the room. TT and his companions stationed themselves in a corner to observe the company. Charming, said TT. Wait a minute, said the stranger. Fun, presently. Knobs not come yet. I don't know this place. I don't know these people. I’m feeling superior myself. Small gentry, maybe? Commissioners? I don't know. Who’s that over there? They're dressed quite fancily, said TT. Hush.

 

That…those are fancy pants on a…those are fancy pants, yes. This is nonsense. 97…oh boy, that’s honorable Wilmont Snipe. That’s a great family, the Snipes, very. Over there, Sir Thomas Clubber, Lady Clubber, and the Mrs. Clubber. They're about to come in the front door. A sensation was created when they entered. It was a tall gentleman in a blue coat and bright blue buttons, the lady in blue satin, and two young ladies in fashionably-made dresses of the same hue. Oh boy, that’s the commissioner of the yard. Remarkably great man. Great man, whispered the stranger to TT. Thomas Clubber and his family went to the top of the room. The honorable Wilmont Snipe and other distinguished people crowded to render homage to the Mrs. Clubber. Sir Thomas Clubber stood bolt upright and looked majestically over his black handkerchief at this assembled company. Mr. Smithie, Miss Smithie, and the Mrs. Smithie was the next announcement. What’s Mr. Smithie? Said TT. I don't know, man.

 

Mr. Smithie bowed deferentially to Sir Thomas Clubber, and Sir Thomas Clubber acknowledged the salute with condescension that could be detected at a distance. Lady Clubber took a telescopic view of Mrs. Smithie and family through her eyeglass, and Mrs. Smithie turned Mrs. Somebody Else whose husband was not in the room yet. But then they were. Bulder, Mr. Bulder, and Mrs. Bulder, and Miss Bulder were the next arrivals. Yeah, they're in charge of people in the uniforms out there, said the stranger to TT’s inquiring look. Miss Bulder was warmly welcomed by Mrs. Clubber, and the greeting between Mrs. Bulder and Lady Clubber was one of the most affectionate. Bulder and Clubber exchanged snuff boxes and looked very much like a pair of Alexander Selkirks, monarchs of all they surveyed. While the aristocracy of the place, the Bulders, the Clubbers, the Snipes, were thus preserving their dignity at the upper end of the room, the rest of the room was imitating their example in other parts of it.

 

People in uniforms devoted themselves to the families of other functionaries; solicitors, wine merchants, brewers, post office keepers. One of the most popular personages of their own circle present was someone with a ring of upright black hair around his head, and that was Doc Slammer. Doc Slammer took snuff with everybody, chatted with everybody — this is not my fiction; it’s actually Doc Slammer — danced, made jokes, played, did everything and was everywhere. Doc Slammer. To these pursuits, multifarious as they were, doc seemed more important than anybody. He was indifigible and paying even the…and paying the most unremitting and devoted attention to everyone, no matter who they were, even one with a profusion of ornament that bespoke her desirable addition to a limited income. Upon the doctor and the people he doted on, as he was doing the doting, were the eyes of TT and his companion. Then the stranger broke silence. Lots of money, that lady there.

 

That guy’s pompous, Doc Slammer. Yeah. Mr. Tupman looked inquisitively at the stranger. I’ll dance with her, too, said the stranger. Who is she? Inquired Tupman. Don't know. I guess she’s a stranger, too. I’ve never seen her in all my life. I’m gonna cut in on Doctor Slammer. Here it goes. The stranger forthwith crossed the room and first, leaning against a mantle piece, continued…commenced gazing with an air of respectful and melancholy admiration at the countenance of this woman. TT looked on in mute astonishment. The stranger progressed rapidly. The little doctor danced with someone else. The woman dropped her fan. The stranger picked it up and presented it; a smile, a bow, a curtsy, a few words of conversation. The stranger walked boldly up to and returned with the master of ceremonies. A little introductory pantomime, and the stranger and Miss Budger took their places in the quadrille.

 

The surprise of Mr. Tupman at this summary proceeding, great as it was, was immeasurably exceeded by the astonishment of the doctor. The stranger was young and flattering to those he danced with. The doctor’s attentions were now unheeded, and the doctor’s indignation was wholly lost on his imperturbable rival. Doctor Slammer was stuck. He, Doctor Slammer, extinguished in a moment by a man nobody had ever seen before and whom nobody knew even now. I, Doctor Slammer, rejected? Impossible. It could not be. Yes, it was. There they were. What? Introducing his friend? Could he believe his eyes? He looked again and was under the painful necessity of admitting the veracity of his optics. Miss Budger was dancing with Mr. Tracy Tupman. There was no mistaking the fact. There was the other woman before him, bouncing bodily here and there with unwonted vigor.

 

TT, hopping about with a face expressive of a most intense solemnity, dancing, as many good people do, as if a quadrille were not a thing to be laughed at but an expression of feelings, which it requires an inflexible resolution to encounter. Silently and patiently did the doctor bear all of this, and the handings and the watching and the grabbing his glasses, the darting for biscuits, the coquetting that ensued. But a few seconds after the stranger had disappeared to leave Mrs. Budger to her carriage, he darted swiftly from the room with every particle of his hitherto bottled-up indignation effervescing from all parts of his countenance in a perspiration of passion. The stranger was returning, and TT was beside him. He spoke in a low tone and laughed. The little doctor thirsted for action. He was exalting. He had triumphed. Sir, sir, said the doctor in a strange voice, producing a card and retiring it into an angle of the passage. My name is Slammer, Doc Slammer, sir. I run this town. Doc-wise, I do.

 

This is my card, sir, my card. He would have added more, but his indignation prevented him from speaking any more. Ah, said the stranger coolly. Slammer? Hm, much obliged, I guess. Polite intention, but I’m doing good, man. Don't need it. But when I do, yeah…I mean, are you the only doc in this town? I mean, if I need it, though, I’ll look you up. I’m sorry, what? Sir, you're a shuffler, sir, gasped the furious doctor. A poltroon, a coward, a liar. Will nothing induce me to give me your card, sir? Oh, I see, said the stranger half aside. Wow. You're like…I prefer lemonade to this. It’s hot in here, man. You sure you're alright, Doc Slammer? Who do you go see? I mean, maybe you should go to bed or something. I gotta…I'm gonna step away and let you cool down, doc. You are stopping in this house, sir, said the indignant doctor. You are intoxicated now, sir. You shall hear from me in the morning. Shall I find you out, sir? Shall I find you out, sir? You found me, man. I’m right here.

 

You could find me here or you could find me at home. Doctor Slammer was speechless, and he fixed his hat on his head with an indignant knock, and the stranger and Mr. Tupman assembled to the room of the latter to restore the borrowed plumage to the unconscious Winkle. The gentleman was fast asleep. The restoration was soon made. The stranger was still rolling, but TT, quite bewildered with wine, was ready for bed. He thought this whole thing was a big joke. He was ready to turn in. His new friend departed. After experiencing some difficulty finding the orifice in his nightcap originally intended for the reception of his head and finally bumping into a bunch of stuff, Mr. Tracy Tupman managed to get into bed after a series…he tossed, he turned, and he washed his face. It was…and then he…oh, I forgot to do this. But shortly afterwards he sank into a deep repose, getting more and more comfortable and hearing the chatter of the party and ball at a distance, as well as the snoring and sleeping of each of his friends. He gave one or two gratuitous yawns before he fell deep asleep. Goodnight.

 

[End of recording]

Transcription performed by LeahTranscribes

Read With Me

 

Kilt History

https://www.lochcarron.co.uk/our-journal/the-history-of-the-kilt/?srsltid=AfmBOoojLZYRQCIICMtXCuQDWhV1tuJqJNQWSEO0mt2Px3GzghRAta_K

https://www.metmuseum.org/essays/the-kilt

https://www.scotsman.com/heritage-and-retro/heritage/why-do-scots-wear-kilts-explained-4379909

 

Ranking Dickens Character Names

https://entertainment.howstuffworks.com/arts/literature/18-memorable-character-names-from-the-works-of-charles-dickens.htm

https://lithub.com/10-dickensian-character-names-deciphered/

​https://www.charlesdickenspage.com/best-characters.html

 

Quadrille

https://interlude.hk/dance-dance-dance-the-quadrille/

https://www.richardpowers.com/early-quadrille-prompting

https://squaredancehistory.org/items/show/1663

 

Blazer Buttons

https://methuenlife.com/blazer-buttons-are-as-varied-unique-as-their-wearers/

https://alittlebitofrest.com/2020/10/18/the-navy-blazer-with-brass-buttons/

https://www.collierandrobinson.co.uk/blog/the-history-of-the-humble-blazer/

 

DOWN TO BUSINESS

Readers and read-ers

A receiver of reading

Friendly background banter

Talking bird chins

I just lost the birder within my brain

Read, Rang, Rung

Don’t make any conjugating jokes, please, brain

Para-reading from the Pickwick Papers

 

PLUGS

Sleep With Me Plus; SleepPhones; Story Only Feed; Emily Tat Artwork; Crisis Textline

 

SPONSORS

Helix Sleep; Zocdoc; Progressive; AquaTru; AirDoctor; Talkiatry; DripDrop; Cozy Earth

 

INTRO

Just being in the middle of it

I won’t say you’re totally understood

But we can relate

Incorrect use of “diminutive”

Assessing your sleep readiness level

An unhelpful sleep level expert

I’ve been diminutive-d

I don’t know why that phrase reminds me of The Guild

Last night I was exhausted

But I still had trouble getting asleep

I couldn’t sleep

Koa couldn’t sleep

We were dogsitting, so we weren’t home

Shorts de boxer

My one piece meanderwear

Taking Koa out to the enclosed space

I have to make sure Koa goes to the bathroom

None of the spots appealed to her

I wrapped myself in a Tartan Plaid blanket to keep warm

Me Underwear oh boy

The apartment is carpeted, so I needed her to go outside

Improvisational Kilt

And a jean jacket

A real stepping out outfit

But I will look back in this moment with nostalgia

Someone out there can relate to what you’re going through

Some Real Human Being Stuff

You really have nothing to lose

Sir, that’s not a kilt

Representing Kilt International

Doing my duty so Koa could do her duty

Your Boris Boreloff, et al

Explaining the show structure

I guess it was more skirt than kilt

The black jean jacket was honestly the toughest part

Reading from the Pickwick Papers tonight

Doc Slammer

It’s entertaining, even though I don’t fully understand what’s happening

 

STORY

Loading up the coach with heavy luggage

Looking out at Whitehall

I am ruminating on the strange mutability of human affairs

An observer of human nature

Snodgrass has a strong poetic turn

The stranger wrote an epic poem – “Revolution of July”

Discussing sagacious dogs

Popo, the pointer

Popo could read!

No Dogs Allowed!

My very valuable Popo

Pickwick wants to take notes on Popo

Asking more questions of the stranger

He’s traveled and lived in Spain

Tracy Tubman, inquiring on personal affairs

Remembering tears in the great square

Cleaning the fountain

A poetic fountain idea

So many anecdotes from a strange life

A singular life

One Singular Sensation

Reaching Rochester by bridge

Pickwick and Snodgrass’s are filled up with this stranger’s Tall Tales Told

August Snodgrass, not Gloop

Passing magnificent ruins

Fit for an antiquarian

The coach stops

They invite this stranger to dinner at the inn

Meeting in 2 hours for dinner

The stranger heads to the high street for the afternoon

They’re impressed with the man

Dinner ordered and sights seen

Impressions of the four towns they viewed

Producing soldiers, sailors, and chalk

The streets are wide and convivial

Staggering under the influence of an overflow of ardent spirits

Following them is just plain fun

A publican refused to serve a drunk soldier

That’s a confusing story, Pickwick

A ton of tobacco smoke in the town

The dirt sticks to your shoes

This dirt is truly gratifying

Sole for dinner!

A capital fish!

A carriage of soles, hardy har har

A ball is going on in the main room

A ball for the benefit of charity

They can buy tickets at the bar

Half a guinea each

They drank and fell fast asleep at dinner

The commencement of the first quadrille

Leading Features of the Pickwickian Theory

Tracy Tubman aka TT

TT will lend people clothes for the ball

TT looks like a grown-up Bacchus

TT is too big

Maybe Winkle’s clothes will fit the stranger better

Gratuitous Yawns on behalf of the Pickwickians

Snoring like a cartoon

Winkle was asleep

How will they get clothes from Winkle

TT knows where Winkle’s suit is in his room

They could just put it back

None The Wiser

That old TV Trope

They flip a coin to figure out who’s paying

TT pays

The stranger dresses up in Winkle’s new coat

The first coat made with the Pickwick Club button

PC (Pickwick Club) (Peculiar Coat)

Explaining the Pickwick Club

It’s a rather short coat

Heading to the ballroom

They have to announce their names

Stranger says not to announce their names

Let’s go incognito

An enticing air of mystery

Entering the ballroom

Dancers, card tables, people

They don’t know anyone here

Fancy pants on that fancypants over there

The Honorable Wilmot Snipe

The Clubber family

Rendering homage to the Clubbers

The Smithee family

Acknowledging a salute with condescension

The Boulder family – they’re in charge of the uniformed people

Boulder and Clubber are friends

Doc Slammer talked with everybody

Doc Slammer is a real name, I swear

Doc seemed more important than anyone else

Doc Slammer is pompous

A strange woman

The stranger cuts in on Doc Slammer

Respectful, melancholy admiration of the strange woman

Stranger bows to the strange woman

A Little Introductory Pantomime

Doc Slammer is indignant that he’s losing out on this young stranger

I, Doctor Slammer, rejected?? What??

TT starts dancing with some of the women

Doc Slammer thirsts for action

Doc Slammer runs this town

Doc introduces himself

The stranger refuses Doc’s services

A shuffler, a pultroon! A coward, a liar!

The stranger brushes off the Doc

The indignant Doc Slammer

They return home and return Winkle’s clothes

TT is ready for be

The stranger departs

TT bumps into stuff on his way to bed

Sinking into a deep repose of sleep

 

SUMMARY:

Episode: 1475

Title: Gratuitous Yawns | Pickwick 2 | Read With Me | SWM+ Sneak Peek

Plugs: Sleep With Me Plus; SleepPhones; Story Only Feed; Emily Tat Artwork; Crisis Textline

Sponsors: Helix Sleep; Zocdoc; Progressive; AquaTru; AirDoctor; Talkiatry; DripDrop; Cozy Earth

Notable Language:

• Read, Rang, Rung
• Para-reading
• Diminutive
• I’ve been diminutive-d
• K-O-A
• Shorts de boxer
• My one piece meanderwear
• Improvisational Kilt
• A real stepping out outfit
• Some Real Human Being Stuff
• Duty / Doody
• Popo
• Tall Tales Told
• Fit for an antiquarian
• A capital fish!
• S-O-L-E
• A carriage of soles
• Leading Features of the Pickwickian Theory
• Gratuitous Yawns
• None The Wiser
• Doc Slammer
• A Little Introductory Pantomime
• A shuffler, a pultroon! A coward, a liar!

 

Notable Culture:

• The Pickwick Papers

• • Charles Dickens

• The Guild

• Kilt International
• Boris Karloff
• “One” song – A Chorus Line
• August Gloop / Willy Wonka
• Bacchus
• Alexander Selkirk

 

Notable Talking Points:

• Just being in the middle of it
• I won’t say you’re totally understood
• But we can relate
• Incorrect use of “diminutive”
• Assessing your sleep readiness level
• An unhelpful sleep level expert
• I’ve been diminutive-d
• I don’t know why that phrase reminds me of The Guild
• Last night I was exhausted
• But I still had trouble getting asleep
• I couldn’t sleep
• Koa couldn’t sleep
• We were dogsitting, so we weren’t home
• Shorts de boxer
• My one piece meanderwear
• Taking Koa out to the enclosed space
• I have to make sure Koa goes to the bathroom
• None of the spots appealed to her
• I wrapped myself in a Tartan Plaid blanket to keep warm
• Me Underwear oh boy
• The apartment is carpeted, so I needed her to go outside
• Improvisational Kilt
• And a jean jacket
• A real stepping out outfit
• But I will look back in this moment with nostalgia
• Someone out there can relate to what you’re going through
• Some Real Human Being Stuff
• You really have nothing to lose
• Sir, that’s not a kilt
• Representing Kilt International
• Doing my duty so Koa could do her duty
• Your Boris Boreloff, et al
• Explaining the show structure
• I guess it was more skirt than kilt
• The black jean jacket was honestly the toughest part
• Reading from the Pickwick Papers tonight
• Doc Slammer
• It’s entertaining, even though I don’t fully understand what’s happening
• Loading up the coach with heavy luggage
• Looking out at Whitehall
• I am ruminating on the strange mutability of human affairs
• An observer of human nature
• Snodgrass has a strong poetic turn
• The stranger wrote an epic poem – “Revolution of July”
• Discussing sagacious dogs
• Popo, the pointer
• Popo could read!
• No Dogs Allowed!
• My very valuable Popo
• Pickwick wants to take notes on Popo
• Asking more questions of the stranger
• He’s traveled and lived in Spain
• Tracy Tubman, inquiring on personal affairs
• Remembering tears in the great square
• Cleaning the fountain
• A poetic fountain idea
• So many anecdotes from a strange life
• A singular life
• One Singular Sensation
• Reaching Rochester by bridge
• Pickwick and Snodgrass’s are filled up with this stranger’s Tall Tales Told
• August Snodgrass, not Gloop
• Passing magnificent ruins
• Fit for an antiquarian
• The coach stops
• They invite this stranger to dinner at the inn
• Meeting in 2 hours for dinner
• The stranger heads to the high street for the afternoon
• They’re impressed with the man
• Dinner ordered and sights seen
• Impressions of the four towns they viewed
• Producing soldiers, sailors, and chalk
• The streets are wide and convivial
• Staggering under the influence of an overflow of ardent spirits
• Following them is just plain fun
• A publican refused to serve a drunk soldier
• That’s a confusing story, Pickwick
• A ton of tobacco smoke in the town
• The dirt sticks to your shoes
• This dirt is truly gratifying
• Sole for dinner!
• A capital fish!
• A carriage of soles, hardy har har
• A ball is going on in the main room
• A ball for the benefit of charity
• They can buy tickets at the bar
• Half a guinea each
• They drank and fell fast asleep at dinner
• The commencement of the first quadrille
• Leading Features of the Pickwickian Theory
• Tracy Tubman aka TT
• TT will lend people clothes for the ball
• TT looks like a grown-up Bacchus
• TT is too big
• Maybe Winkle’s clothes will fit the stranger better
• Gratuitous Yawns on behalf of the Pickwickians
• Snoring like a cartoon
• Winkle was asleep
• How will they get clothes from Winkle
• TT knows where Winkle’s suit is in his room
• They could just put it back
• None The Wiser
• That old TV Trope
• They flip a coin to figure out who’s paying
• TT pays
• The stranger dresses up in Winkle’s new coat
• The first coat made with the Pickwick Club button
• PC (Pickwick Club) (Peculiar Coat)
• Explaining the Pickwick Club
• It’s a rather short coat
• Heading to the ballroom
• They have to announce their names
• Stranger says not to announce their names
• Let’s go incognito
• An enticing air of mystery
• Entering the ballroom
• Dancers, card tables, people
• They don’t know anyone here
• Fancy pants on that fancypants over there
• The Honorable Wilmot Snipe
• The Clubber family
• Rendering homage to the Clubbers
• The Smithee family
• Acknowledging a salute with condescension
• The Boulder family – they’re in charge of the uniformed people
• Boulder and Clubber are friends
• Doc Slammer talked with everybody
• Doc Slammer is a real name, I swear
• Doc seemed more important than anyone else
• Doc Slammer is pompous
• A strange woman
• The stranger cuts in on Doc Slammer
• Respectful, melancholy admiration of the strange woman
• Stranger bows to the strange woman
• A Little Introductory Pantomime
• Doc Slammer is indignant that he’s losing out on this young stranger
• I, Doctor Slammer, rejected?? What??
• TT starts dancing with some of the women
• Doc Slammer thirsts for action
• Doc Slammer runs this town
• Doc introduces himself
• The stranger refuses Doc’s services
• A shuffler, a pultroon! A coward, a liar!
• The stranger brushes off the Doc
• The indignant Doc Slammer
• They return home and return Winkle’s clothes
• TT is ready for be
• The stranger departs
• TT bumps into stuff on his way to bed
• Sinking into a deep repose of sleep