1379 – Frank 6 | Read With Me (SWM+ Sneak Peek)

Episode 1379 – Frank 6 | Read With Me (SWM+ Sneak Peek)

[START OF RECORDING]

SCOOTER: Friends beyond the binary, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s time to page through a catalog one page at a time as you drift off. It’s time for Sleep With Me, the podcast that puts you to sleep.

INTRO: [INTRO MUSIC] 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, physical sensations…so, thoughts would be stuff you’re thinking about or that your brain’s thinking about from the past, present, or future, whether it’s work or regular…work life or personal life, a past life, a dream life. I actually have a…I have a tangent to go on that I’ve made a personal…part of my personal journey that involves thinking.

But it could be thoughts, could be feelings, anything emotionally coming up for you connected to the thoughts or driving the thoughts or independent, independent from the dreams that I’ve known, as somebody did not sing about Albuquerque. So, thoughts, feelings, physical sensations, anything you’re experiencing physically, it could be something else. It could be changes in your routine, your time, your temperature, your weather, work schedule. Whatever it is that is keeping you up, I’d like to take your mind off of stuff and keep you company while you drift off.

What I propose to do is I’m gonna send my voice across the deep, dark night, I’m gonna use lulling, soothing, creaky, dulcet tones, pointless meanders, superfluous tangents, all to create a place where you could set aside whatever’s keeping you awake, so you can fall asleep and drift off. So, that’s the plan. Now, it does take some explanation if you’re new, and what I’ll do is I’ll explain things, then I’ll show things by just talking about my…what I call the old authentic method, being myself, and then I’ll wrap it up. So, a couple things to know if you’re new right away, and this is backed up by hundreds of thousands of comments, is this is a podcast that takes a few times to get used to.

So when you first get here, just like most sleep stuff, you might be skeptical or doubtful or you got that doubtful-hopeful thing going where you’re hoping it’ll work but you’re also like well, I’ve been through this sleep solution before, the old sleep solution washing machine rigmarole. If I could count the number of times my mom said, did you put rigmarole in the washing machine? I say, no, rigatoni, mom. I did put some rigatoni in there. Once again, I tried to create my own band, and I was singing I Got A Pocket Full of Rigatoni Tonight. So, yeah, no, I didn’t put…what’s rigmarole? I thought…are you giving…are we experiencing rigmarole right now, mother, from me putting rigatoni…? I didn’t put rigatoni directly in the washing machine this time.

I did last week when I made a song, I Got A Washing Machine Full of Rigatoni Tonight. I actually attempted to make rigatoni in the washing machine, so…yeah. So, yeah. Believe it or not, I think it is a viable method, because the washing machine is like a colander or whatever. How come no one ever thinks about that? I’m sure there’s people out there that have made pasta in wash…if you’re listening, don’t do it, because it…unless you found a washing machine on…out there…somewhere out there like Fievel did. If you did…I mean, I’ve seen something recently where people are using a washing machine for something, but you could…would you eat at a restaurant where the pasta was prepared in a rig…they say, yeah, we got washing…machine-washed rigatoni and prepared…’cause think about it; if you had the right temperature water…I mean, that might just work.

Again, we’d want a food-grade washing machine. Well, last time I asked the store, they just looked at me and they said, for getting food stains out? I said, no, no, food grade. Restaurant-grade washing machine? I finally…they said, get Sandy to talk to this guy, ‘cause I persisted. Then Sandy came over and they said, what do you want…what are you trying to do? I said, well, eventually I’d like to make rigatoni in a washing machine, but for starters, I’ll just start with cooking pasta. They said, why? I said, because I could. They said, what do you mean, because you could? I said, well, I’d like to know if it’s possible to make rigatoni or just cook pasta in a washing machine. I think it is. Oh, also, I’m making a sleep podcast, so Sandy, I’ll have to get back to you. So, oh, this podcast takes two or three tries to get used to.

I have no idea where any of that came from, other than it’s something I’d…now it’s on my bucket list. If there’s anything that YouTube’s good for, I guarantee that when I get off of here, I’ll look it up and somebody will be cooking pasta in a washing machine, and they’ll be way more industrious than me. Talk about…they’ll say, oh yeah, no, we found a food-grade washing machine. I’d say, well, now it’s a pasta machine, ‘cause you really…I don’t think I want to wash my clothes…most people would say, I wouldn’t want to eat any pasta from a washing machine. I’d say, understandably; it was never used to wash clothes, and we got a filter on there or whatever. But I wouldn’t want to…would you want to wear clothes that were washed in pasta water? Wouldn’t that…? You say, Scoots, how come you can’t move anymore?

Why is your…? You say, where do you starch your shirts? They’re so crisp. I’d say, these are pasta water…yeah, there’s a lot of starch in my shirts because they’re washed in pasta water. Okay, so to get back; if you’re new, this podcast takes some getting used to. Another thing which I probably made clear, this is a podcast you don’t really need to pay attention to. You just kinda listen, because most of the stuff I talk about only makes partial sense. So, you say, well, okay. Hot water churning; water gets drained out through holes. All those things are somewhat like you would do in production of pasta. Or noodles; you could say, yeah, we make noodles, too.

I wouldn’t want to do ramen…I would just…for the time being, I think we should just stick to straight cooking of noodles or pasta products in my…yes, definitely only in my imagination. Okay, so this podcast takes some getting used to. It’s a podcast you don’t really pay attention to. Also, it doesn’t really put you to sleep, believe it or not. I’m here to keep you company while you fall asleep versus putting you to sleep, but you drift off. That’s why the shows are over an hour, to give you plenty of time to drift off, or if you can’t sleep, that you have some confidence or some reassurance ‘cause you know I’m gonna be here for you for the next hour. If you need more episodes, you could just queue them up episode after episode. So, that’s part of it. What else do you need to know?

Oh, structure of the show can also throw new people off, so I’ll tell you about that next. The show starts off with a greeting so you feel seen and welcome. Then there’s listener support, like support resources for you and our community. Then there’s sponsors; that’s what supports the show being free, are the listeners who support the sponsors, then there’s a intro. The intro goes from about minute six or minute eight to about minute twenty-something. At first it could kinda be…some people really have strong feelings about it, ‘cause they say, what is this intro? Is it an ad? Is it a…? I’d say, no, it’s kind of a show within a show. I mean, this one very clearly is a show within a show, ‘cause you say, holy mackerel, Scoots is serious about this pasta…fresh-washed pasta. Maybe I could do that.

I don’t think that would be a very good selling technique, but I could see myself out there with the buskers of the world, next to somebody selling newspapers. I could say, fresh-washed pasta. Starch your shirts, fill your belly, all in one machine. Not at the same time, though, so I need about an hour and forty-five minutes for the complete deal. But you could eat pasta with your shirt off while I wash your shirt. Then we air dry it, and while it air dries, it becomes incredibly starched and stiff. So, no takers? Okay, get back to the sleep podcast. So, don’t listen to me, no pressure to fall asleep…yeah, and if…I’m here to be your bore-friend, your companion in the deep, dark night.

So yeah, if you can’t sleep or you wake up or you need help getting back to sleep or you just need something during the day, a friend to take your mind off of stuff, that’s my job. So, those are two things. Oh, structure; that’s what I was talking about. The intro goes on and on and on, and for new listeners, that could kinda seem a little pointless, ‘cause you say, can’t you get to the point? I say, well, that’s the point. The pointlessness is the point. Yeah, no, with this machine, we’re not multitasking. We’re working not in para…if I had two machines, I could work in parallel. I could drain…what if we did that, we drain the pasta water right into the shirt starcher? Shirt Starcher 5000, Gene. Oh boy, it starches your shirts with starch, actual starch, not Spray-n-Starch or something.

We use…depends. We have a bunch of different starches available. You got some semolina, we got other kind…we got a buckwheat. Would you like some buckwheat starch in your shirt, Gene? Oh, so…oh, the intro…the intro for the new listener, it’s to introduce you to the show, but for the regular listener, one, they kind of enjoy this nonsense. They barely enjoy it because they’re just kinda listening. You say, well, it’s half…it’s a half-brained idea. It’s both harebrained and half-brained, but I can see that someone with Scoots’…that he would believe…but think about it, ‘cause water drains somewhere, so…and it would already be hot because we would be using it to cook pasta. We may have to cook pasta in stages ‘cause I just thought of that; we don’t have a way to generate heat.

So, we could have about four or five…I guess we’d have to run it…well, it’s a work in progress. That’s like Sleep With Me. So, the intro goes on and on and on to ease you into bedtime, to give you some distance from the day. So, a lot of regular listeners are getting ready for bed or doing some sort of wind-down activity, or getting comfortable and cozy and drifting off during the intro. Then we’ll have the story. Tonight we’ll be paging through a catalog. When we talk about pointless meanders, holy moly…I recorded this episode yesterday. I said, man, four hundred pages of catalog. It only felt like five thousand. It really did, I think ‘cause I was waiting to get to the toys and I never did. A lot of…I’d say, what is that, a five-hundred page catalog?

What is that, a hundred and fifty pages of different kind of pajamas and slippers? They’d say, come on, Scoots, it’s only fifty pages of pajamas and slippers. I’d say, was there that much demand? But I guess you just…you say, we gotta have pajamas for anybody that wants pajamas. That’s how you get them in the door; pajamas and gifts that you would give to someone that you don’t…that you know but you don’t really know what they want. So you say, well, it’s a pipe and letter-opener stationery set for opening letters, for your pipe-smoking, and your stationery needs. Thanks, thanks again. Also, it comes with aftershave. Wow. So, okay, so the intro goes on and on and on to ease you into bedtime. I guess that was my point there.

So, 3% of people start the show at twenty minutes or twenty-two minutes or twenty-one minutes and try to skip the intro. But for most listeners, it’s part of their bedtime routine. Then there will be the…then there’s business between the intro and the episode. That’s, again, how I’m able to bring you the show free instead of behind a paywall. Then I’ll talk about this catalog. I’ll go through it page by page while you drift off. So, I do the work so you don’t have to listen. Then the show ends with some thank-yous and goodnights, so that’s the structure of the show. The other thing you need to know is the reason I make the show is, one, because I’ve been there. Tossing, turning; that’s where I was last night. Trouble getting to sleep? Yes. Trouble staying asleep? A little bit, but more trouble getting to sleep last night.

So, I know how it feels. Then also, the other thing is you deserve a good night’s sleep. You deserve a place where you can rest, a safe place where you could drift off so that you can live your life and your life can be fuller, and if I can help with that, it’s my honor. Now it does not work for everybody. I’m an acquired taste. Clearly, I would not call myself a visionary, but I would say I have out-of-the-box ideas because…while I don’t think I’m the only person that’s thought of cooking pasta in a washing machine, I will say that I probably am the one that talked to the most people about it, unless there’s a YouTube video with a million hits or views, because…like, I get…I mean…oh, the reason…oh, to wrap up that story is that when I talked to Sandy, Sandy explained to me that Sandy used to work in restaurant equipment.

Sandy said, you know, a washing machine’s five times as much as an industrial pasta basket cooker. I say, what’s that? It’s a bit like a deep fryer. You’ve probably seen it; you just didn’t notice it. It’s for cooking pasta. I say, you know what? I have seen it. Yeah. I say, yeah, it’s just…those cost one-third of just a…and I say, really? Sandy said, well, you’re imagining all this, so I don’t know, really. But that’s why I can’t sell you multiple washing machines to cook pasta in. Also, we don’t have food-grade washing machines. That’s why they’re called washing machines, not pasta machines. I said, but in a pinch, if I needed to cook five thousand pounds of pasta…Sandy? Hello? Oh, okay. So, that’s how that story concluded. I don’t think we’ll see…I don’t think I saw a…oh, I saw a pasta maker in this catalog coming up, but it wasn’t a pasta cooker.

Just thinking of a song; I’ve been a pasta maker, I’ve been a pasta cooker, but I never laid my pasta in the sun. I’ve been a pasta joker, I haven’t been a pasta toker, and I don’t eat my pasta on the run. So anyway, I’m glad you’re here. I really appreciate your time coming by and checking this show out. Give it a few tries. There’s nothing to lose. I mean, it doesn’t…if you don’t like the show, I hope you find something else. I got a ton of other great sleep podcasts listed at sleepwithmepodcast.com/nothankyou. But I really hope I can help you. I really appreciate you checking the show out. I appreciate your time. I really want to help you fall asleep, ‘cause it’s gonna make our world a better place if you’re rested. Yeah, thanks again for coming by. Here’s a couple ways for you regular listeners I’m able to be here for you twice a week for free.

Friends beyond the binary, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, this is the second time you get to hear me say that welcome, because this episode is constructed from a intro from the past and our Read With Me episodes here. It’s a Frankie and Victor episode with our friend Frank and his…so, I’m reading from the book Victor and Frankie, also known as a famous Mary Shelley novel, and this is a little bit different than episodes we’ve done with Sleep With Me, but we tested this out on Sleep With Me+. It was so popular we wanted to bring it to everyone. So, it’s me reading through a book, also paraphrasing, making stuff sleepy, but it’s not perfectly sleepy, just like everything else we make, you know? It exists within this world, but it’s pretty chill. So, I hope you enjoy it, and without further ado, more of Victor and Frankie. Thanks, everybody.

Chapter 10. I spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood beside the sources of the Arveiron which take their rise in a glacier, that with slow pace is advancing down from the summit of the hills to barricade the valley. The abrupt sides of vast mountains were before me. The icy wall of the glacier overhung me. A few shattered pines were scattered around, and the solemn silence of this glorious presence chamber of imperial nature was broken only by the brawling waves or the fall of some vast fragment, the thunder sound rolling in the valleys or the creaking reverberated along the mountains of the accumulated ice which, through the silent working of immutable laws, was ever and anon rent and torn as if it had been but a plaything in their hands.

These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They elevated me from all littleness of feeling, and although they did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquilized it. In some degree also, they diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for the last month. I retired to rest at night. My slumbers, as it were, waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I had contemplated during the day. They congregated around me, the unstained snowy mountaintop, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods and the ragged bear ravine, the eagle soaring amidst the clouds. They all gathered around me and bade me be at peace. Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke?

All of the soul and spiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every thought. The rain was pouring in torrents and the thick mist hid the summits of the mountains so that I even saw not the faces of those mighty friends. Still, I would penetrate their misty veil and seek them in their cloudy retreats. What were rain and storm to me? Right? I mean, my middle name is Rain and Storm to me, me, and Rain and Storm. My mule was brought to the door. Hurry up; let’s get that mule to the door, eh? This might sound like I’m out roughing it, but read between the lines, 'cause my mule was brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend the summit of Montanvert. Montanvert; excuse me. I didn’t have someone to tell me the correct pronunciations for this place I was roughing it.

I didn’t have someone to tell me the correct pronunciations. I did say I was roughing it. I remember the effect that the view of the tremendous and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it. It had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the soul and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy. The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the effect of solemnizing my mind and causing me to forget the passing cares of life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was well-acquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary grandeur of the scene. The ascent is precipitous, but the path is cut into continual and short windings which enable you to surmount the perpendicularity of the mountain.

Perpendicularity…I say with very little hilarity, but I like saying perpendicularity. Oh, verity, in a scene terrifically desolate, in a thousand spots, the traces of winter and snowfall and snow tumbles may be perceived, where trees lie sleeping and strewn on the ground, some no longer trees but just now part…future parts of the loamy soil, others bent, leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountain or transversely upon other trees, snuggling, if you will, but snuggling in the harsh weather. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of snow, down which stones continually roll, like rolling stones. Some make the slightest sound and some, like your Rolling Stones, speak in a loud voice, producing air sufficient to draw sounds upon the speaker. Like a speaker, I guess.

The pines are not tall or luxuriant, but they are somber…I said, can you get some…can we get some luxury pines here? I’m sorry, Mother Nature, but I’m used to something a little bit more luxuriant. Well, this is near the peak of the mountain, son, so it’s just…so, I don't know if you know the way the world works. Oh, by the way, Mother Nature, I’ve unlocked all your secrets, so I do actually…I actually created my own tree-based being. Oh, really? Were they luxuriant? Anyway, I’ve gotta get back to…sorry, Mother Nature, I gotta get back to my hike. I mean, but these trees are somber. They add a air of severity to the scene. Sounds familiar, doesn't it, Victor? By the way, I don't know if I need you…are you gonna be sub…are you…what, is this a sub-tweet of my story now, Mother Nature? Please proceed.

I looked on the valley beneath. Vast mists were rising from the rivers which ran through it. Was that Brad Pitt’s breakout role…? No, he was in two…he had breakout roles in two previous films. It was curl…it was in curling and thick wreaths around the opposite mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniform clouds. What were the breakout roles? Victor, can you stay in your timeline, please? While rain poured from the dark sky and added to the melancholy impression I received from the objects around me, alas, why does someone boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the tree-based being? It only renders them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free, but now we are moved.

Every wind that blows and a chance word or seen, that word may convey to us. We rest. A dream has the power to mess…not go for…good for sleep. We rise. One wandering thought pollutes the day. We feel, conceive, or reason, laugh or wheat…or weep. Weep about wheat, even. If you're allergic to wheat, you may even weep…embrace fond woe or cast our cares away. It is the same, for be it joy or sorrow, the path of its departure still is free. People’s yesterday may never be like their morrow, nought may endure but mutability. It was nearly noon when I arrived at the top of the ascent. For some time I sat upon the rock that overlooks the sea of ice. A mist covered both that…the surrounding mountains. Presently a breeze dissipated the cloud, and I descended upon the glacier.

The surface is very uneven, rising like the waves of a troubled sea, descending low and interspersed by rifts that sink deep. The field of ice is almost a league in width, but I spent nearly two hours in crossing it. The opposite mountain is a bare perpendicular rock. From the side where I now stood, Montanvert was exactly opposite at a distance of a league, and above it rose Mont Blanc in awful majesty. I remain in a recess of the rock, gazing on this wonderful and stupendous sea. The sea, or rather, the vast river of ice, wound among its dependent mountains, whose aerial summits hung over its recesses. Their icy and glittering peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds. My heart, which was before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy.

I exclaimed, wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander and do not rest in your narrow beds, allow me this faint happiness or take me as your companion on a trip away from…you know what I’m saying? Because I don't know if I have it in my heart for these joys. Suddenly as I said this, I beheld the figure of a person at some distance advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevasses of ice or crevices of ice depending on if you…depending on the luxury with which you state your words. I would say crevasses or crevacier. These are the same crevasses among which I had walked with caution. His stature, also as he approached, seemed to exceed that of a human. I was troubled. A mist came over my eyes, and I felt a faintness. But I was quickly restored by the cold gale of the mountains.

Old, cold gale, she did blow down my shirt sleeves, or up my shirt sleeves, and down my shirt from. I perceived as the shape came nearer, sight tremendous and aboard, that it was the tree-based being whom I created. Leaf-based being, I guess. Tree-based being, leaf-based being…I trembled with displeasure, resolving to wait his approach and then close in him. I said, well, if this is just…if this being is just a pile of leaves and roots and trees, I’m gonna do more than peep it when it gets close to me. He approached. His countenance bespoke bitter anguish combined with disdain and malignity, while his unearthly appearance…I mean, earthly in general, but in a combination state…and this was before Fraggle Rock, by the way.

Because you say, I have traversed all timelines, that heaps of leaves and compost…I mean, this being was not a heap of leaves or compost but was similar. It was almost too hard on my eyes, the color of the leaves combined with my strong feelings about everything. But it was so strong, I scarcely observed this for my displeasure that had first deprived me of utterance. But suddenly I recovered, only to overwhelm with words expressive of furious detestation and contempt. Lumpy leaf pile, I exclaimed, do you dare approach me, and do you not fear my fierceness as I spread…as I may spread your leaves about this mountain plain? Begone, leaf-based being. You know, begone. Or rather, stay. Now I’ll walk on you as if I’m trampling on regular, old leaves, and maybe they’ll be crunchy and they’ll turn into leaf dust.

Oh, that I could, with…to do that, to send you far, far away, maybe beyond this realm, and also to restore those who you helped to cross over. Then he spoke, and I have trouble…I may…I have to enter a method so that I don't put my own spin on it. I expected this reception, said the leaf-based being. You know, no respect you have for someone different than you. How, then, must I be disliked to who I am different beyond all living things? Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy pet to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by one of us leaving this realm. You propose to send me away, but how dare you sport thus you created? Do your duty towards me and I will do mine towards you and the rest of humanity.

If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace, but if you refuse, I will glut, oh, gluttonously glutting like a maw, and I’ll be satiated with the falling of leaves in a way not pleasant like leaf-peeping. A bored, leaf-based being, fiend that thou art, a world beyond that’s very unpleasant is too mild for thy. Wretched, you approach me with your creation. Come on, then. Bring it, bring it. I mean, I’m saying this with my words, but I’m not so sure, but bring it that I might spread you out like a leaf…like, jump into you like a leaf pile and then not rake you back up. My displeasure was without bounds, so I dove as a child does into a pile of leaves after making sure it’s…but I didn’t make sure.

I was impelled by all the feelings that one can have against a pile of sentient leaves which one has strong feelings about, which I guess has never happened on Earth before. He easily eluded me and then I…luckily I don’t jump very high. It was kind of…I made it sound like it was…it was a very…it was more of a roll than a jump. I didn’t really leave the ground. So, I just kinda rolled on the ground some more. Be calm, he said. I entreat you to hear me more before you give vent to your displeasure on my devoted pile of leaves, which is also I. Have I not been through enough that you seek to increase my misery? Life, although it may be only a accumulation of anguish, is dear to me. Yeah, I’m not gonna let you just spread my leaves around willy nilly.

Remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself. My height is superior to thine, my joints more supple, by the way, 'cause I’m a leaf-based…and I got roots, I got cambium, I got filum, xylem, phloem. I’ve got a lot. I’m a tree, leaf-based being. I wondered to myself, could anyone’s joints be more supple than mine? But this leaf-based being seemed to think so. I’ll not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. I am thy creation, and I will be even mild and docile to my natural creator if thou wilt also perform thy part, the part thou…which thou owest me. Oh, Frankie, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice and even thy clemency and affection is most due. Remember, I am thy creature. I ought to be thy Adam. But rather, I am thy fallen angel, like a fallen leaf. You get it?

Whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed? Here’s a part of my tale, man. Everywhere I see bliss from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good. Misery made me full of displeasure. Make me happy and I shall again be virtuous. That was the leaf-based being speaking, and I said, begone. I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and me. We are opposites. Begone, or let us try our strength, I mean, ‘cause you're made of leaves, dude. I guess I’m not seeing your insides, but in a dance-off, one must fall and one must catch and then be spread about the ground. In return, the leaf-based being said, how can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favorable eye upon thy creature who implores thy goodness and compassion?

Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent. My soul glowed with love and humanity. But am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor me, and what hope I gather from your fellow creatures who owe me nothing, they spurn me. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days the caves of ice, which I only do not…I can go in them. I don't mind…I mean, well, I mind them. They're a dwelling to me, and they're the only one which humans do not grudge these bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder to me than your fellow beings. If the multitude of mankind knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and they would say, begone, leaf-based being, forever. So, how am I supposed to feel about those who abhor me? I will keep no terms with those who loathe me.

I am miserable, but some…if you call me wretched, you may have to share my wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompence me and deliver me from a fate which only remains for you to make so great that not only you and your family but thousands of others could get caught up in the whirlwind of…leaf-based whirlwinds. Let your compassion be moved and do not disdain me. Listen to my tale. When you have heard that, abandon or commiserate me as you shall judge that I deserve. But hear me; the guilty are allowed by human laws to speak in their own defense before backs are turned upon them. Listen to me, Frankenstein, you accuse me of stuff, and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, spread me around the ground and let all my leaves dry out and crunch away. Oh, praise the eternal justice of humans.

Yet I ask you to spare me, to listen to me, and then if you can, if you will, do as you wish. What do you call to my remembrance, I rejoined, circumstances of which I shudder to reflect, that I have been the miserable origin and author? Cursed be the day, leaf…leaves not worthy of peeping in which I first saw light, you in the light, and you saw the light. Cursed — though I curse myself — be the hands that formed you. You have made me, me, me, wretched beyond expression. You have left me no power to consider whether I’m just to you or not. Begone. Relieve me from the sight of your detested form. Oof, that’s harsh. Thus, I relieve thee, my creator, he said, and placed his hands before my eyes, which I flung from…don’t touch me with your leaf-based hands. Well, I was just trying to take from you a sight which you so abhor.

Still, thou can listen to me and grant me thy compassion. By the virtues that I once possessed, I demand this from you. Hear my tale. It is long and strange. The temperature of this place is not fitting to your fine sensations. I heard you earlier saying you were roughing it. So, come to the hut upon the mountain. The sun is yet high in the heavens before it descends to hide itself behind your snowy precipices and illuminate another world. You will have heard my story and can decide. On you it rests whether I quit forever the neighborhood of humans and lead a harmless life or become a scourge of leaves that no one loves, and by the way, the author your speedy ruin. I’m working on a book; it’s called The Speedy…Frankie’s Speedy Ruin. Right now it’s 8,000 pages. As he said this, he led the way across the ice. I followed.

My heart was full and I did not answer him, but as I proceeded, I weighed the various arguments he had…all in seconds, the way my brain processes, all the various arguments that he had used and determined, at least, to listen to his tale. I was partially urged by curiosity, and my boundless compassion confirmed my resolution. I had hitherto supposed him to be up to no good, but I eagerly sought a confirmation or denial of this opinion. For the first time, also, I felt what the duties of a creator towards their creature was, and that I ought to render him happy before I complained of his wickedness. These motives urged me to comply with his demand. Across the ice, therefore, and ascended the opposite rock. The air was cold and the rain, again, began to descend. We entered the hut, the fiend with an air of exaltation and I with a heavy heart and depressed spirit, but I consented to listen and, seating myself by the fire which my odious companion had lighted, he begun his tale.

Chapter 11. It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original era of my being. All the events of that period appear confused and indistinct. A strange multiplicity of sensations seized me, and I saw, felt, heard, and smelt at the same time. It was indeed a long time before I learned to distinguish between the operations of my various senses. By degrees I remember a stronger light pressed upon me so that I was obliged to shut my eyes. Darkness then came over me and troubled me, but hardly had I felt this when, by opening my eyes, as I now suppose, the light poured in upon me again. I walked and I believe descended, but I presently found a great alteration in my senses. Before, dark and opaque things had surrounded me, impervious to my touch or sight.

But now I found that I could wander on at liberty with no obstacles which I could not either surmount or avoid. The light became more and more oppressive to me, and the heat wearying me as I walked. I sought a place where I could receive shade. This was the forest near Ingolstadt, and here I lay by the side of a brook, resting from my fatigue until I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. This roused me from my nearly dormant state. To use your terms, it’s similar…I’m a plant-based being, so I get my nourishment from the soil and the sun and the air. But let’s just say I ate some berries that I found hanging on trees and laying on the ground, to make it simple for you. This one I actually did; I slaked the old thirst at the brook and then, lying down, I was overcome by sleep.

It was dark when I awoke, and I felt cold, also, and surprised, as it were, instinctively finding myself so desolate. Before I had quitted your apartment on a sensation of cold, I had covered myself with some clothes, but these were…and my leaf-based body were insufficient to secure me from the dews of night. I was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch, and I knew and could distinguish nothing. But feeling feelings on all sides, I sat down and wept. Soon, a gentle life stole over the heavens and gave me a sensation of pleasure. I started up and beheld a radiant form rise among the trees. I know what you're thinking, Victor, 'cause I can see it on your face. It’s the moon. But to me it was new. I gazed with a kind of wonder. It moved slowly but enlightened my path, and I again went out in search of berries.

It was cold when under one of the trees, I found a huge cloak which I covered myself with, and I sat down upon the ground. No distinct ideas occupied my mind. All was confused. I felt light and hunger and thirst and darkness. Innumerable sounds rang in my ears, and on all sides, various scents saluted me. The only object I could distinguish was the bright moon, and I fixed my eyes on that with pleasure. Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of night had greatly lessened when I began to distinguish my sensations from each other. I gradually sought plainly the clear stream that supplied me with drink and the trees that shaded me with their foliage.

I was delighted when I first discovered that a pleasant sound, which often saluted my ears, proceeded from the throats of the little winged animals who had often intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe with greater accuracy the forms that surrounded me and to perceive the boundaries of the radiant roof of the light which canopied me. Sometimes I tried to imitate the pleasant songs of birds, but was unable. Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the uncouth and inarticulate sounds which came out of me made me silent once again. This was a bummer, but the moon had disappeared from the night, and again, later with lessened form, showed itself while I still remained in the forest.

My sensations had by this time become distinct, and my mind received every day additional ideas. My eyes became accustomed to the light and to perceive object in their right forms. I distinguished birds from herbs and by degrees, one herb from another. I found the sparrow uttered none but harsh notes whilst those of the blackbird and the thrush were sweet and enticing to me, at least, in my opinion. One day, when I was really getting cold, I found a fire which had been left by some wandering people. I was overcome with delight at the warmth I experienced from it. Now, in my joy, I didn’t realize what it was, so I was surprised. How strange, I thought, that something so warm could also not be so great to be around. Such opposite effects.

I examined the materials of the fire, and to my joy, I found it to be composed of wood. Now, while I’m a plant-based being but…I’m not dried out. So, I quickly collected some branches, but they were wet even though they had fallen off a tree, so that didn’t work. I was pained at this, and I sat watching the operation of the fire. The wet wood which I had placed near the heat had dried itself and then sparked it right up. I reflected on this, and by touching various things as I walked around, I busied myself in collecting a great quantity of wood that I might dry and have a plentiful supply. When night came on and brought sleep with it, I was wondering, is this fire…? I had already started…I had fire, but with it came worry. Would it go out while I was sleeping?

But I covered it carefully with dry woods and leaves, dried leaves; not my leaves, and then I placed wet branches upon it. Then, spreading my cloak, I laid on the ground and sank into sleep. It was morning when I awoke, and my first care was to visit the fire. I uncovered it, and a gentle breeze quickly fanned it into a flame. I observed this also and contrived of a fan of branches which roused the embers when they were nearly extinguished. When night came again, I found with pleasure that the fire gave light as well as heat and that the discovery of this element was useful to me in my food, for I had found some of the leftovers travelers had left behind, roasted. This is proverbial for you, Victor. I wasn’t actually eating things that are more savory than berries. Or was I?

Tasty treats I gathered from the leftovers and the…then I could supplement those with the stuff I gathered from the trees and the bushes. I tried to make my food in the same way as the leftovers. They cooked it over the live embers, but I found with the berries, this wouldn't work. But the nuts and roots were much improved by cooking. Food, however, became scarce, and I often spent the whole day searching in vain for a few acorns to assuage the pangs of hunger. When I found this, I resolved to find a place that had hitherto inhabited…get rid of it and move on and seek one where the few wants I experienced would be more easily satisfied. But in this immigration, I exceedingly lamented the loss of fire which I had obtained through accident and knew not how to reproduce.

I gave several hours serious consideration of this difficulty, but I was obliged to relinquish all attempt to supply it, and wrapping myself up in my cloak, I struck across the wood towards the setting sun. I passed three days in these rambles, and at length discovered the open country. A great fall of snow had taken place the night before, and the fields were one of uniform white. The appearance was disconsolate. I found my feet chilled by the cold, damp substance that covered the ground. I would say ‘no’ to snow if I knew what it was called at the time I’m telling you what I knew not. But I did…a good judge of time. So, this was about 7:00 in the morning, and I longed to obtain food and shelter.

How I knew that, I knew not, dear Victor, but though I did not know the name of snow, I had a estimate of what time it was. You're retelling…I don't know if you know this, Victor, if you can hear me, but you're retelling my tale in a way that makes me even more displeased with you. But anyway, at length I perceived a small hut on a rising ground which doubtless had been built for the convenience of some shepherd. Yeah, I don't know what snow is, but I know what a shepherd is, dear Victor. This was a new sight to me, and I examined the structure with great curiosity. Finding the door open, I entered. An old man sat on it…in it…on a chair, in it…on the chair in the cabin near a fire over which he was preparing his breakfast.

 He turned, hearing a noise, and perceiving me, said, whoa, whoa, whoa, and ran out across…ran out of the hut, ran across the fields with a speed of which his debilitated form hardly appeared capable. His appearance, different from any I had ever before seen, and his flight somewhat surprised me, but I was enchanted by the appearance of the hut. Here, snow and rain could not penetrate. The ground was dry, and it presented to me then as an exquisite and divine a retreat as anything. I finished off the shepherd’s breakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese, milk, and wine. The latter, however, I did not like, luckily. Then, overcome by fatigue or maybe some wine, I lay down on some straw and fell asleep.

It was noon when I awoke, and allured by the warmth of the sun which shone brightly on the ground, I determined to recommence my travels, and depositing the remains of the peasant’s breakfast in a wallet I found — the old breakfast wallet, Victor — I proceeded across the field for several hours until at sunset I arrived at a village. How miraculous did this appear. The huts, the neater cottages, and stately houses engaged my admiration by turns. The vegetables in the garden, the milk and cheese that I saw placed at the windows of some cottages allured my appetite. One of the best of these I entered, but I had hardly placed my foot in the door when these kids started yelling. A woman said, oh my goodness, I must lie down on this couch which is for…what you do after you say ‘oh my goodness’.

The whole village was roused. Some fled, some gave me a stern talking to, until grievously, they were trying to sweep my leaves around, much as you described, and tossing stuff at me like potatoes and tomatoes and maybe even lettuce. I had to escape to the open country and took refuge in a low hovel, quite bare, and making a wretched appearance after the palaces I had beheld in the village. This hovel, however, joined a cottage of a neat and pleasant appearance. But after my late dearly-bought experience, I dared not enter it. My place of refuge was constructed of wood, but so low I could with difficulty sit upright in it. No wood, however, was placed on the earth which formed the floor, but it was dry.

Although the wind entered it by innumerable holes, I found it an agreeable asylum from the snow and rain. Here, then, I retreated and lay down, happy to have found a shelter, however miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more from the disapproving speeches of humans, especially those dudes in the villages. They did a lot of ‘splaining about…leaves shouldn't be walking, leaves shouldn't be sentient. Who am I? Why am I so large and lumpy? What am I, mineral or vegetable or animal? So, I needed a break, Victor. As soon as morning dawned, I crept from my kennel. I thought it was cuter to call it a kennel than a hovel. I knew that, too. Even though kennels aren't…I said, this is cute as a kennel. It’s alliterative.

Though I do not know what snow was, now I know what alliteration is sometimes, but sometimes I get it wrong. But I got out of my kennel and I thought I might view the adjacent cottage and discover if I could remain in the habitation I had found. It was situated against the back of the cottage and surrounded on the sides which were exposed by a pigsty and a clear pool of water. One part was open, and by that, I had crept in. But now I had covered every crevice by which I must perceived, covered them up with stones and wood in such a matter…a manner that I could move them on occasion to go out. All the light I enjoyed came in through the pigsty, but that was sufficient for me. I was setting up my homestead.

Having thus arranged my dwelling and carpeted it with clean straw, I retired, for I had saw the figure of a human at a distance, and I remembered too well my treatment the night before to trust myself in this person’s power. I had first, however, provided for my sustenance for that day by a loaf of coarse bread which I purloined from the cabin, and a cup which I could drink more conveniently than from my hand of the pure water which flowed by my retreat. The floor was a little raised, so it was kept perfectly dry, and by its…had a vicinity to the chimney of the cottage, so it was tolerably warm. It was not paradise, but my piece of paradise. Thus being provided, I resolved to reside in this hovel until something should occur which might alter my determination.

It was indeed a paradise compared to the bleak forest, my former residence, the rain-dropping branches and the dank earth. I ate my breakfast with pleasure and was about to remove a plank to procure myself a little water when I heard a step. Looking through a hole, I beheld a young creature, a young being with a pail on her head passing before my hovel. Hovel? Hovel. You say hovel; I say hovel. You know what they…you know, if you take out the H and use the rest of the letters, dear Victor, what word can you make? Think about that. It’s not H-O-M-E. H…you know what I mean, Victor? Okay. Well, this girl, she was young and of gentle demeanor, unlike what I’ve since found cottagers to be and farmhouse people to be, palace people.

She was meanly dressed, and I mean that in a…not a…you know what I’m saying? It was a coarse, blue petticoat, linen jacket. That was her only garb. Her fair hair was plaited but not adorned, and she looked patient yet sad, kinda like me. Then I lost sight of her. In about a quarter of an hour she returned bearing the pail, which was now partially filled with milk. As she walked along, seemingly incommoded by the burden, a young man met her whose countenance expressed a deeper despondence. Uttering a few sounds with an air of melancholy, he took the pail from her head and bore it to the cottage himself. She followed, and then they disappeared. Presently, I saw the young man again with some tools in his hand.

He crossed the field behind the cottage, and the girl was also busied, sometimes in the house, sometimes in the yard. On examining my dwelling, I found that one of the windows of the cottage had formally occupied a part of it, but the panes had been filled up with wood, and one of these was a small and almost imperceptible hole through which my eye could just penetrate. Through the crevice a small room was visible, white-washed and clean, but very bare of furniture. In one corner, near a small fire, sat an old man leaning his head on his hands in a disconsolate manner and attitude. The young girl was occupied in arranging the cottage, but presently she took something out of a drawer which employed her hands.

She sat down beside the old man who, taking up an instrument, began to play and produce sounds sweeter than the voice of the thrush or the nightingale. It was a lovely sight even to me, a poor wretch who had never beheld beautiful before. The silver hair and benevolent countenance of the aged cottager won my reverence while the gentle manners of the girl enticed my love. He played a sweet and mournful air which I perceived drew tears from the eyes of his amiable companion, of which the old man took no notice until she sobbed audibly. Then he pronounced a few sounds, and the fair creature, leaving her work, knelt at his feet. He raised her and smiled with such kindness and affection that I felt sensations of a peculiar and overpowering nature.

There was a mixture of pain and pleasure, such as I had never before experienced either from hunger or cold, warmth or food, and I withdrew from the window, unable to bear these emotions. Soon after this, the young man returned, bearing on his shoulders a load of wood. The girl met him at the door, helped to relieve him of his burden, and taking some of the fuel into the cottage, placed it on the fire. Then she and the youth went apart into a nook of the cottage and he showed her a large loaf and a piece of cheese. She seemed pleased and went into the garden for some roots and plants which she placed in water and then upon the fire. She afterwards continued her work whilst the young man went into the garden and appeared busily employed in digging up and pulling up roots.

After he had been thus employed for about an hour, the young woman joined him, and they entered the cottage together. The old man had, in the meantime, been pensive, but on the appearance of his companions, he assumed a more cheerful air, and they sat down to eat. The meal was quickly dispatched. The young woman was again occupied in arranging the cottage. The old man walked before the cottage in the sun for a few minutes, leaning on the arm of the youth. Nothing could exceed in beauty the contrast between these two excellent creatures. One was old with silver hairs and a countenance beaming with benevolence and love. The younger was slight and graceful in his figure, and his features were molded with the finest symmetry, yet his eyes and attitudes expressed the utmost sadness and despondency.

The old man returned to the cottage, and the youth, with tools different from those he had used in the morning, directed his steps across the fields. Night quickly shut in, but to my extreme wonder, I found the cottagers had a means of prolonging light by the use of tapers, and was delighted to find that the setting of the sun did not put an end to the pleasure I experienced in watching my human neighbors. In the evening, the young girl and her companion were employed in various occupations which I did not understand, and the old man again took up the instrument which produced the divine sounds that had enchanted me in the morning.

So soon as he had finished, the youth began not to play but to utter sounds that were monotonous and neither resembling the harmony of the old man’s instrument nor the songs of birds. I since found that he read aloud, but at the time I knew nothing of the science of words or letters. The family, after having been thus occupied for a short time, extinguished their lights and retired as I conjectured to rest, as did I, dear Victor, rest. Let’s both of us rest, separate but together, for a bit, dear Victor, ‘til I return to my tale after some time resting. Goodnight.

[END OF RECORDING]

(Transcription performed by LeahTranscribes)

Frank / Read With Me

Cooking Pasta in a Washing Machine

https://www.digitaltrends.com/home/cook-food-in-washing-machine/

https://www.businessinsider.com/designer-cooking-washing-machine-2017-5

https://www.allrecipes.com/article/washing-machine-sous-vide/

Montblanc Pen

https://www.penshop.co.uk/blog/the-history-of-mont-blanc

https://inkstable.com/the-evolution-of-the-montblanc-meisterstuck/

https://penstylo.blogspot.com/p/history-of-montblanc.html

Leaf Litter

https://www.adirondackalmanack.com/2012/11/outside-story-the-ecology-of-leaf-litter.html

https://carnegiemnh.org/exploring-the-role-of-leaf-litter-in-our-forests/

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/bring-science-home-leaf-litter-biodiversity/

How humans captured fire

https://wonderopolis.org/wonder/how-was-fire-discovered

https://www.sapiens.org/archaeology/neanderthal-fire/

https://www.bbcearth.com/news/did-neanderthals-learn-to-make-fire-before-us

Breakfast Throughout History

https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2016/06/breakfast-the-most-contentious-meal-of-the-day/487220/

https://www.tastingtable.com/1096405/the-hazy-history-of-how-breakfast-came-to-be/

https://oldeuropean-restaurant.com/a-history-of-european-breakfast/

Episode Number: 1379

Title: Frank 6 | Read With Me

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

Sponsors: Helix Sleep; Zocdoc; Progressive; Kindred; Odoo; Uncommon Goods

Summary:

• Intro (1014)
• Some kind of mention of Albuquerque
• The old authentic method – being myself
• Sleep Solution Washing Machine Rigamarole
• A Washing Machine of Rigatoni
• Rigamarole
• Could you make pasta in a washing machine?
• Food Grade Washing Machine
• Would you wear clothes washed in pasta water
• A lot of starch in your shirts
• The pointlessness is the point
• Shirt Starcher 5000
• Types of Starch
• Both hare-brained and half-brained
• 400 pages in a catalog? It only felt like 5,000
• Didn’t even get to toys
• 50 pages of pajamas and slippers
• Sandy used to work in restaurant equipment
• Talking with Sandy
• An industrial pasta dip cooker
• Chapter 10
• I wandered through the valley
• Looking at the glacier of the Arvient
• The creaking of the ice
• Diverting the subject of my brooding
• The glittering pinnacle
• Where were these peaceful signs when I woke the next morning?
• It was so rainy and misty
• My middle name is Rain and Storm
• My mule is brought to the door
• It sounds like I’m roughing it, but read the lines between
• I remember the first time I saw this mountain
• Solemnizing My Mind
• I determined to go without a guide
• A precipitous assent
• Surmount the Perpendicularity
• Trees lie sleeping, strewn on the ground
• Snuggling in the harsh weather
• Can we get some luxuriant pines up here, Mother Nature?
• Is Mother Nature subtweeting my story now?
• Weeping About Wheat
• Nought May Endure But Mutability
• I finally reached the summit
• Montblanc, in awful severity
• Wandering spirits, take my soul!
• I see a figure in the distance
• The luxury with which you state your words
• Old Cold Gail
• It’s the Tree Based Being
• Er, Leaf Based Being
• I’m gonna do more than peep it when he gets close
• A generally unearthly appearance
• I started mouthing off to him
• Lumpy Leaf Pile!
• I’ll try to record his words without my own bias
• Why do you spurn me, my creator?
• Doing our duties towards one another?
• Gluttonously Glutting
• Bring it on, my creation
• I was impelled by strong feelings
• I rolled in the ground with a leaf pile
• The creature speaks
• Why increase my misery?
• Life is dear to me!
• Thou hast made me more powerful than thyself
• We can get along if you treat me as I’m owed
• I ought to be thy Adam
• How can I move thee??
• My soul glowed, loving Humanity
• These skies are kinder to me than my fellow humans
• How should I feel about those who abhor me?
• Leaf-Based Whirlwinds
• Hear my tale
• Frankie talks a lot about himself
• Relieve me from the sight of your detested form – that’s harsh
• I follow him, fearfully, to listen to his tale
• Partly urged by curiosity and, of course, my boundless passion
• I sat by the fire to hear his tale
• Chapter 11
• The Creature speaks
• I can’t remember the beginning of my being
• All senses assaulted me at once
• A stronger light pressed upon me
• Light and heat became oppressive to me
• I sought refuge in the Forest of Ingallstadt
• I needed to eat
• I ate some berries and slaked the old thirst by a brook
• It was dark when I awoke
• The clothes I had grabbed were not enough to fight against the dew
• I was a miserable wretch
• I saw a radiant form in the sky – the moon!
• I found a huge cloak
• No distinct ideas occupied my mind
• I could more easily perceive the boundaries around me
• I tried to imitate sounds, but my speech was unformed
• I distinguished birds from herbs and herbs from one another
• I found a fire left behind by some people
• I was entranced by its warmth and composition
• I started to collect wood for the fire
• I worried the fire would go out over night
• When I awoke, I was happy to see the fire was still going
• The fire gave light as well as heat
• I found some leftovers
• I kept moving, and missed the fire
• I did not know how to reproduce it
• I rambled for 3 days and then discovered the open country
• It had snowed the previous night and I did not like it
• I longed to obtain food and shelter
• Victor, I don’t like how you’re retelling my tale
• I found a structure
• An old man saw me, said “Whoa!” and ran across the fields
• I was enchanted by the hut
• I finished off the shepherd’s breakfast then fell asleep
• The Old Breakfast Wallet
• At sunset, I arrived at another village
• Villagers saw me and were roused
• Some fled and some gave me a stern talking to
• I had to escape to the open country and take refuge in a low hovel
• It was nice to a neat, little cottage
• An agreeable asylum from the snow and rain
• In the morning, I crept from my kennel
• As cute as a kennel
• I don’t know what snow is, but I am familiar with alliteration
• I covered every crevice of my hovel with stones and wood
• Setting up my homestead
• I saw a figure of a human in the distance
• I purloined some bread and a cup from the cabin
• My little piece of paradise
• I beheld a young being, passing by with a pail on her head
• She was young and gentle
• A young man works around the house
• I can just peep through a boarded up window
• A small, bare, clean room 
• An old man sits in there, disconsolate
• The man starts to play music
• I loved the music and the girl
• A mixture of pain and pleasure I had never experienced before
• The young man returns
• The youths share a loaf and some cheese
• The three of them sit down to eat
• The beauty of these creatures
• I was delighted to see they could use tapers and I could keep watching them
• The old man plays again
• The youth reads aloud, though I didn’t understand this at the time
• The family goes to rest, as did I, as we will now 

Notable Language:

• Intro
• Albuquerque
• Fresh-Washed Pasta
• Sleep Solution Washing Machine Rigamarole
• Rigatoni
• Rigamarole
• Shirt Starcher 5000
• Solemnizing My Mind
• Surmount the Perpendicularity
• Weeping About Wheat
• Nought May Endure But Mutability
• Crevice / Crevasse
• Old Cold Gail
• Leaf Based Being (LBB)
• Lumpy Leaf Pile!
• Gluttonously Glutting
• Leaf-Based Whirlwinds
• The Old Breakfast Wallet
• Hovel

Notable Culture:

• • Intro
  • 1,014
  • JC Penney
  • Christmas
  • Albuquerque, NM

• Frankenstein

• • Mary Shelley

• A River Runs Through It

• • Brad Pitt
  • Montblanc
  • Corvoissier
  • Fraggle Rock

• Frankie’s Speedy Ruin

Notable Talking Points:

• Intro (1014)
• Some kind of mention of Albuquerque
• The old authentic method – being myself
• Sleep Solution Washing Machine Rigamarole
• A Washing Machine of Rigatoni
• Rigamarole
• Could you make pasta in a washing machine?
• Food Grade Washing Machine
• Would you wear clothes washed in pasta water
• A lot of starch in your shirts
• The pointlessness is the point
• Shirt Starcher 5000
• Types of Starch
• Both hare-brained and half-brained
• 400 pages in a catalog? It only felt like 5,000
• Didn’t even get to toys
• 50 pages of pajamas and slippers
• Sandy used to work in restaurant equipment
• Talking with Sandy
• An industrial pasta dip cooker
• Chapter 10
• I wandered through the valley
• Looking at the glacier of the Arvient
• The creaking of the ice
• Diverting the subject of my brooding
• The glittering pinnacle
• Where were these peaceful signs when I woke the next morning?
• It was so rainy and misty
• My middle name is Rain and Storm
• My mule is brought to the door
• It sounds like I’m roughing it, but read the lines between
• I remember the first time I saw this mountain
• Solemnizing My Mind
• I determined to go without a guide
• A precipitous assent
• Surmount the Perpendicularity
• Trees lie sleeping, strewn on the ground
• Snuggling in the harsh weather
• Can we get some luxuriant pines up here, Mother Nature?
• Is Mother Nature subtweeting my story now?
• Weeping About Wheat
• Nought May Endure But Mutability
• I finally reached the summit
• Montblanc, in awful severity
• Wandering spirits, take my soul!
• I see a figure in the distance
• The luxury with which you state your words
• Old Cold Gail
• It’s the Tree Based Being
• Er, Leaf Based Being
• I’m gonna do more than peep it when he gets close
• A generally unearthly appearance
• I started mouthing off to him
• Lumpy Leaf Pile!
• I’ll try to record his words without my own bias
• Why do you spurn me, my creator?
• Doing our duties towards one another?
• Gluttonously Glutting
• Bring it on, my creation
• I was impelled by strong feelings
• I rolled in the ground with a leaf pile
• The creature speaks
• Why increase my misery?
• Life is dear to me!
• Thou hast made me more powerful than thyself
• We can get along if you treat me as I’m owed
• I ought to be thy Adam
• How can I move thee??
• My soul glowed, loving Humanity
• These skies are kinder to me than my fellow humans
• How should I feel about those who abhor me?
• Leaf-Based Whirlwinds
• Hear my tale
• Frankie talks a lot about himself
• Relieve me from the sight of your detested form – that’s harsh
• I follow him, fearfully, to listen to his tale
• Partly urged by curiosity and, of course, my boundless passion
• I sat by the fire to hear his tale
• Chapter 11
• The Creature speaks
• I can’t remember the beginning of my being
• All senses assaulted me at once
• A stronger light pressed upon me
• Light and heat became oppressive to me
• I sought refuge in the Forest of Ingallstadt
• I needed to eat
• I ate some berries and slaked the old thirst by a brook
• It was dark when I awoke
• The clothes I had grabbed were not enough to fight against the dew
• I was a miserable wretch
• I saw a radiant form in the sky – the moon!
• I found a huge cloak
• No distinct ideas occupied my mind
• I could more easily perceive the boundaries around me
• I tried to imitate sounds, but my speech was unformed
• I distinguished birds from herbs and herbs from one another
• I found a fire left behind by some people
• I was entranced by its warmth and composition
• I started to collect wood for the fire
• I worried the fire would go out over night
• When I awoke, I was happy to see the fire was still going
• The fire gave light as well as heat
• I found some leftovers
• I kept moving, and missed the fire
• I did not know how to reproduce it
• I rambled for 3 days and then discovered the open country
• It had snowed the previous night and I did not like it
• I longed to obtain food and shelter
• Victor, I don’t like how you’re retelling my tale
• I found a structure
• An old man saw me, said “Whoa!” and ran across the fields
• I was enchanted by the hut
• I finished off the shepherd’s breakfast then fell asleep
• The Old Breakfast Wallet
• At sunset, I arrived at another village
• Villagers saw me and were roused
• Some fled and some gave me a stern talking to
• I had to escape to the open country and take refuge in a low hovel
• It was nice to a neat, little cottage
• An agreeable asylum from the snow and rain
• In the morning, I crept from my kennel
• As cute as a kennel
• I don’t know what snow is, but I am familiar with alliteration
• I covered every crevice of my hovel with stones and wood
• Setting up my homestead
• I saw a figure of a human in the distance
• I purloined some bread and a cup from the cabin
• My little piece of paradise
• I beheld a young being, passing by with a pail on her head
• She was young and gentle
• A young man works around the house
• I can just peep through a boarded up window
• A small, bare, clean room 
• An old man sits in there, dicsonsolate
• The man starts to play music
• I loved the music and the girl
• A mixture of pain and pleasure I had never experienced before
• The young man returns
• The youths share a loaf and some cheese
• The three of them sit down to eat
• The beauty of these creatures
• I was delighted to see they could use tapers and I could keep watching them
• The old man plays again
• The youth reads aloud, though I didn’t understand this at the time
• The family goes to rest, as did I, as we will now