1408 – Frank 10 | Read With Me | SWM+ Sneak Peek

Episode 1408 – Frank 10 | Read With Me | SWM+ Sneak Peek

[START OF RECORDING]

SCOOTER: Friends beyond the binary, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s time for the podcaster who’s usually…his thoughts get stuck in the mud, or slowed down. Bogged down; that’s…bogged down’s my game; Scoots is my name. Putting you to sleep is what’s…hopefully we won't even…it’ll be…your thoughts I’m trying to tame. Rhymes are not my strong suit. That’s plain, but what do you say we slow it down…or what do we do next? Oh no, 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, whether it’s thoughts you're thinking about, things on your mind about the past, the present, or the future…so, thoughts, it could be feelings, anything coming up for you emotionally from the past, the present, or the future, or just emotions that are there. It could be physical sensations, changes in time or temperature or schedule, work stuff, travel.

You may have something big coming up, school or a life thing, or you could be going through something. Whatever it is that’s keeping you awake, I’d like to keep you company and take your mind off of that while you fall asleep. So, what I’m gonna do here is…here’s the plan. I’m gonna send my voice across the deep, dark night. I’m gonna use lulling, soothing, creaky, dulcet tones, and I’m gonna try to create a safe place, or a place that feels reasonably safe for you to be in here. I’ll be here to keep you company while you drift off. I’ll take some pointless meanders and superfluous tangents and repetitive stuff 'cause I get mixed up, all while you fall asleep. Now, if you're new, a few things to know. I’m not everybody’s cup of tea, and it takes a few episodes to get used to this podcast.

One of the reasons for that is just it’s very different. So, give it a few tries and see how it goes, 'cause…and one reason it’s different is…you've probably been through a lot of different options that say, hey, this is what’s gonna put you to sleep. Oh boy, is this gonna work. You know, whatever…I don't know what the latest thing is. I’ve talked about some of the ones I’ve tried to get going; dipping your elbows in milk. I’m sure that was one point…other than when I’ve given it as advice…at one point in the history of milk and saucers and sleep solutions. Or let’s say…let’s try a new one; dipping your elbows in mud. They say, oh boy, you know what works for my buela is dipping your elbows in mud.

She says…she keeps a pot of mud on a low simmer anytime I go to visit her, because she knows that sometimes I have trouble drifting off. You say, I’m sorry. Really? That sounds…that does sound refreshing, except the…especially if you're visiting someone’s house. The only place I would dip my elbows in mud is someone’s else’s house, because then I’d say…especially someone like a grandparental figure would be…because then I wouldn't have to…you say, why is there so much dirt in the bed? Well, once it was elbow mud. I’m sorry…oh, this also happened to me, just this part. They said, what’s…you have elbow mud? Oh, well, I had trouble sleeping. I got up, I was gonna fix myself some cereal, and then I realized…I said to myself, what would happen if I simmered some mud, brought it to…?

I brought it to a boil and then reduced the temperature below a simmer, technically, because it was…then I re-distributed it. You'd be amazed at the viscosity of the mud around your house and with your tap water. Then I dip my elbows in it. Also, I left some mud on. I turned it off last night. I left it to sit overnight. Nothing like a pot…a unwatched pot of mud never boils, especially if it’s turned off. So, yeah, when I went to bed I had…there’s probably some…there’s not just dirt in that bed, because there’s probably some…I’m sorry. Oh, this is only in my imagination, luckily. But I gotta get back to the new listeners. So, this podcast is very different because…then you might try…you might say, well, I’m just not…I don't see myself in a situation where I could dip my elbows in mud without…it sounds like a lot of work.

You're like, you're right. I agree with you. It was more work than I anticipated. It’s easier to imagine dipping your elbows in mud than to actually do it. But…so, you're right on that one. What else should I agree with you on? Oh, so, if you're new, the podcast is a bit different. Give it a few tries. Here’s a couple other things to know, though. One, this is a podcast you don’t really listen to, clearly. I mean, you figured that out on your own. This is a podcast that only barely makes sense. So, you just kinda listen, you kick back, you say, okay, uh-huh, uh-huh. Okay, elbows in the mud. Okay. Wow. Really? Okay. Well, sounds like a interesting idea.

So, you just kinda barely listen, just like if you were looking at the clouds or if…when you're a kid and you're playing with mud or an adult…that’ll be my new…one of my new…I think I already created that place. I don't know what we’d call it. So many places with mud…I think mud’s been used too pejoratively about destinations. So, I’d want to call it Mudville, but I’m like, well, people probably made fun of some place and called it Mudville, so I don't want to use that term. Maybe we’d just call it Mud’s, Mud’s Place, and we’d have a animatronic character. Probably a bucket, because it would say, you make mud pies inside…prepare…every visitor gets their own big bucket for filling up with mud. Because when you're playing with mud, it’s just kind of passive. I mean, there’s some basic stirring and forming. You know what I mean.

So, that’s kinda how you listen to the show, just like if you were making a mud pie. I’m sure there are people that have made well-structured mud pies, but for the…most of the time, you're just making a mud patty, and that’s about…compared to other podcasts, you say, well, that podcast is like a bouillabaisse. Oh boy, is that well…and I say…and Scoots is more like some sort of patty, word patty. It’s a bunch of words you smush…glob together. There’s a binder in there, but the binder is whatever’s going on in Scoots’ brain. So, this is a podcast you don’t really listen to. Also, it does not really put you to sleep. I’m here to keep you company while you fall asleep, which is a bit different.

So, that’s why the shows are over an hour, to give you plenty of time to drift off, and if you can't sleep, I’m gonna be here to the very end, so…'cause there is a small percentage of listeners who just can't sleep. So, I’m here to keep you barely entertained hour after hour after hour if you need it. So, those are two things you need to know. A couple other things for new listeners is…the structure of the show is also very different, and this can get a strong reaction. This is just how I make a sleep podcast based on the listener feedback over the years, and it is really not a one-size-fits-all thing. So, some people use the show in different ways, but for the majority of listeners…and there’s no wrong or right way to listen. This is just from the majority of feedback how we became the way the show is now.

The majority of people like to listen to the show for free, so we do it sponsor and patron-supported. So, the show starts off with a greeting so you know you're welcome and seen, then there’s support for listeners, then there’s sponsor stuff, then there’s an intro. So, the intro goes from like, minute six or minute eight to about minute twenty — and I’ll come back to the intro in a second — and then there’s business again. That’s where most of the sponsors like their business, in the first third of the show. Then there’s a story. Tonight it’ll be a board game unboxing. Then we have thank-yous at the end. So, that’s the structure of the show. Now, the intro throws people off 'cause they say, wait a second, why does the intro go from minute six or minute eight to minute twenty?

I say, well, three percent of people skip the intro, and then a few thousand people listen to different types of episodes on Patreon, whether they listen all night or they listen to story-only episodes or intro-only episodes. So, those are alternative ways to listen. But most people…the intro serves a purpose if you're new to introduce you to the podcast. It doesn't really make a whole lot of sense. It doesn't really put you to sleep and has creaky, dulcet tones. But for the regular listener, the intro becomes a part of their wind-down routine or their relaxation or, whatever, getting-ready-for-bed routine. So, it slowly eases you into bedtime whether you're in bed already getting comfortable and relaxing or you're doing something else to wind down. For me, it takes me about an hour-and-a-half wind down.

That’s how long my wind-down routine really is. It can get down to forty-five minutes if I’m under…if I’m overthinking, let’s just say. But I mean, in a perfect world I start getting ready for bed and then I start doing my relaxing stuff over an hour-and-a-half period, and then it still takes me…after I’m doing with my hour-and-a-half period…or part of my hour-and-a-half period, really, maybe, 'cause I’ve been timing it with a sleep thing is…it still takes me another ten or fifteen minutes to fall asleep. So, the intro’s meant to be kinda part of that last twenty or thirty minutes of your wind down, wherever you are or however you want to work it in. But that’s kinda why the structure goes as it goes.

But give it a few tries, 'cause you might be one of those three percent of people that like to skip ahead, or maybe you want to become a patron, or maybe you say, well, like a lot of people, I’m just fine the way it is. I take my Sleep With Me straight as it comes. I’d say, well, with a thousand meanders? Exactly. So, that’s the structure of the show. The reason I make the show is, one, because I’ve been there. I know how it feels in the deep, dark night, tossing, turning, mind racing, trouble getting to sleep, trouble staying asleep. So, I’m happy to help if I can. So, that’s one thing. Then the second thing is you deserve a good night's sleep.

That’s why I make the show, because I believe that. I believe you deserve a safe place where you can drift off, where you can get comfortable and fall asleep. Then if you get a good night's sleep, our world’s gonna be a better place 'cause your world will be a better place. So, that’s why I make the show. I think that’s it. I’m really glad you're here. I really appreciate your time. I really yearn and I strive, and I hope I can help you fall asleep. Here’s a couple ways I’m able to do it for you free twice a week. Thanks again.

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. This is a little bit different than episodes we’ve done with Sleep With Me, but we’ve 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 19. London was our present point of rest. We determined to remain several months in this wonderful and celebrated city. Clerval desired the intercourse of the man…men of genius and talent who flourished at this time. But this with me was a secondary object. I was principally occupied with the means of obtaining the information necessary for the completion of my promise, and quickly availed myself of the letters of introduction that I brought with me, addressed to the most distinguished natural philosophers. If this journey had taken place during my days of study and happiness…oh, don’t you remember…? Do you remember me narrating all those days…? Who was happier, me or Frankie? Maybe I’m remembering my happiness in a different way.

But I did have those days of happiness during my study, and that…if it was like that mere chapters ago, it would have afforded me inexpressible pleasure. But a blight had come over my existence, and I only visited these people for the sake of information they might give me on the subject in which my interest was so terribly profound. Company was irksome to me. When alone, I could fill my mind with the sights of heaven and Earth. The voice of Henry soothed me, and I could thus bring myself into a transitory peace. Busy, uninteresting, joyous faces brought back despair to my heart. I saw an insurmountable barrier placed between me and my fellow people. The barrier was sealed with leaves and rainbow bridges.

William, Justine, compost, and those things reflected on the events connected with those names; compost and leaves, leaf-based beings. But in Clerval I saw an image of my former self. He was inquisitive and anxious to gain experience and instruction. Just like me, he worked so well with those professors. He was willing to learn and open to learning. He was malleable. He was teachable, just like I was. Now, the difference of manners which he observed was to him an inexhaustible source of instruction and amusement. He was also pursuing an object he long had in view. His design was to visit India in the belief that he had in his knowledge of its various languages and in the views he had taken of its society, and he thought he could be of service there. In Britain, he could only be in Britain, you know?

He was forever busy, and the only check to his enjoyments was my sorrowful and dejected mind. I mean, I tried to conceal this from him as much as possible, only sighing loudly and groaning and telling…just stating to him aloud on a regular basis; there’s nothing you can do, Clerval, to distract me or ease my woes. You could never understand them. I’m not here to bar you, Clerval, from the pleasures natural to one who is entering a new scene of life. To me, all may be bleak, but for you, undisturbed by any care or bitter recollection, it’s different. Also, often he’d get ready to go out, and I’d say, oh, no, no, no, don't worry about me. Don’t pay me any mind. I cannot accompany you. I may have another…I have an engagement, Clerval. I’m only in my dressing gowns right now. But really, I wanted to be alone.

I also began to collect the materials necessary for my new creation. The more leafs and compostable material, the better. But it was kinda unpleasant, almost like gathering single drops of water by letting them fall on your head. Each leaf I picked up, it was anguish. Every word I spoke to another in allusion to it caused my lips to quiver and my heart to beat and flutter. After some months in London, a letter came in from a person in Scotland who had formally been our visitor in Geneva. He mentioned the beauties of his country and asked us if there were not sufficient allurements to induce us to prolong our journey as far north as Perth, where he resided.

Clerval, of course…I mean, Clerval, man…eagerly desired to accept the invitation, and I, though I abhorred these things, I did wish to view those mountains and streams and all those wonder…and plus, plenty of leaves…but the wonderous works of nature where she adorns her chosen dwelling places. Plenty of compost in the woods. We had arrived in England in the beginning of October, but now it was February. We accordingly determined to commence our journey towards the north at the expiration of another month. In this expedition we did not intend to follow the great road to Edinburgh, but to visit Windsor, Oxford, Matlock, and the Cumberland Lakes, resolving to arrive at the completion of this tour about the end of July. So, we were taking our sweet, sweet time.

I packed up my instruments and the materials I had collected thus far, and I said, Clerval, you're gonna need to carry this, right? I resolved to finish my labors in some obscure nook in the northern highlands of Scotland. We quitted London on the 27th of March and remained a few days at Windsor, rambling in its beautiful forest. This was a new scene to us mountaineers. The majestic oaks, the quality of game, and the herds of stately deer; they were all novelties to us. From thence, we proceeded to Oxford. As we entered the city, our minds were filled with the remembrance of the events that had been transacted there more than a century and a half before. It was here that Charles I had collected his forces.

The city had remained faithful to him and after the whole nation had forsaken his cause to join the standard of parliament and liberty. Oh, liberty. Oh, that…the memory of that unfortunate king and his companions, everybody, it gave a peculiar interest to every part of the city which they might be supposed to have inhabited. The spirit of elder days found a dwelling here, and we delighted to trace its footsteps. If these feelings had not found an imaginary gratification, the appearance of the city had yet in itself a sufficient beauty to obtain our admiration. The colleges are ancient and picturesque. The streets are almost magnificent.

Almost, you know, almost magnificent, and the lovely ices which flows beside it through meadows of exquisite verdor is spread forth into a placid expanse of waters which reflects its majestic assemblage of towers, spires, and domes and blossomed among aged trees. I enjoyed this scene and yet, my enjoyment was embittered both by the memory of the past and the anticipation of the future. I was formed for peaceful happiness. During my youthful days of discontent…not dis-incontent. Discontent. But when I was a youth, I was never discontentful, right? You've been listening to my story thus far.

I was never overcome by malaise, and the sight of what is beautiful in nature or the study of what is excellent and sublime in the productions of beings like humans like me, those could always interest my heart and communicate elasticity to my spirit. But now I am a blasted tree, like a lightning strike in me, into…deep into my cambium and my…whatever, my core. I felt that I should still stand to exhibit what I shall soon cease to be, a miserable spectacle of humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself. Did I mention Clerval? I forgot about…I wonder if I forgot Clerval. I did a few…quite a few times as I wandered on, thinking. But, you know, sometimes I needed to think without moving, too.

So, we passed a considerable period at Oxford rambling among its environs and endeavoring…he would walk behind me while I was thinking. But I endeavored to identify every spot which might relate to the most animating epoch of English history, in my opinion. Our voyages of discovery were often prolonged by the successive objects that presented themselves. Clerval mentioned his schedule and all that, but…whatever, man. We visited the Hampton and Fields. My soul was elated from its debasing and miserable thoughts, contemplating divine ideas of liberty and self-sacrifice these sights and monuments were remembrances for. I started to think of myself and my greatness, and for a instant, I dared to shake it off and look around me with a free and lofty spirit.

But the iron that weighed on me, it had weighed on me quite a bit. So I sank again, sank lower and lower, trembling, into myself. So, it was with regret we left Oxford and proceeded to Matlock. That was our next place of rest. The country and the neighborhood of this village resembled to a greater degree the scenery of Switzerland, but everything is on…no offense, but it’s on a lower scale. The green hills want the crowns of the distant white alps, which always attend on the piney mountains of my home. So, I mean, eh. We did visit a wonderous cave and little cabinets of natural history, where curiosities are disposed in the same manner like my home sweet, sweet mountains. But then I thought of Henry, the rain…I said, is the rainbow bridge on a mountain or over a stream?

I hastened to quit Matlock because…I don't know how that…I started associating Matlock with myself. So, I said, let’s hit the road, Clerval. From there, Derby, still journeying northward, we passed two months in Cumberland and Westmorland. I could now almost fancy among my…being among the Swiss mountains again. The little patches of snow which lingered on the northerned side of the mountains, the lakes, the dashing of the rocky streams, they were all familiar and dear sights to me. Here we also made some acquaintances, who almost contrived to trick me into being happy. Of course, simple Clerval…the delight of Clerval was proportionally greater than mine.

His mind expanded in the company of people of talent, and he found in his own nature greater capacities and resources than he could have imagined to himself to have possessed while he was with people that were not on my level or…you know, regular people. I could pass my life here, he said to me, and among these mountains I should scarcely regret Switzerland and the Rhine. But he’s a kid, and he found that a traveller’s life is one that includes frowny faces, too, even amidst its enjoyments. Clerval, man, his feelings are always forever on the stretch. Then he begins to sink in repose. He finds himself obligated to quit that on which he rests in pleasure for something new and that which again engages his attention and which he also forsakes for other novelties. He just doesn't have the depth that I have, which is fine.

It’s fine. We’d scarcely visited the various lakes of Cumberland and Westmorland and conceived an affection for some of the inhabitants when the period of our encompaniment with our Scotch friend approached, and we left them to travel on. For my own part, I was not sorry. I had now neglected my promise for some time, and I feared the effects. I was like, well, I haven't really done…I’ve been procrastinating. Is that gonna catch up with me? I mean, my leaf-based-being friend could be in Switzerland. Maybe he’s talking to my family. This idea pursued me at every moment. Even though I was procrastinating, it bugged me. The times I was trying to relax instead of getting work done…right when I was about to have peace and repose, it snapped me out of it. I waited for letters with feverish impatience.

If they delayed, I was miserable and overcome by…well, what if the leaf-based being’s back there asking for his leaf-based partner that I haven't really started to work on even though I promised I would? I definitely promised it 100%, cross…you know. Oh, man. But when the letters arrived and I saw something from Elizabeth or my father, at first I didn’t even want to read them. I procrastinated on reading them so I could imagine what my procrastination had done for them to write me. But sometimes I thought the leaf-based being was following us, you know, and I wondered what that would mean. Maybe he was keeping an eye on Clerval. When this thought about me, I’d stay at Clerval’s side.

I’d say…instead of walking behind me loudly, I’ll walk behind you quietly and only groan as often as I…is only grown in response to your enjoyment of the forest, Clerval, or your laughter with other people. So, I fancied things about…I said, well, if the leaf-based…I can't keep putting this off, but it’s gonna have consequences. But I focused on the leaf-based being, not on myself. See, the thing is, I was guiltless. Maybe I promised, maybe I procrastinated, and maybe I created a leaf-based being, but it was my poor luck, all of this, you know? I was innocent and it was just luck. So, by the time we got to Edinburgh, I had languid eyes and mind. Yet, the city might have interested the most unfortunate being. Clerval did not like it as much as Oxford, for the antiquity of the latter city was more pleasing to him.

But the beauty and the regularity of the new town of Edinburgh, its romantic castle and environs, it was delightful. Sir Arthur’s Seat, Sir Bernards Well, the Pentland Hills, they compensated him for the change and filled him with cheerfulness and admiration. But even though I had caused us a lot of delays…you know, I was really impatient to get to the end of our journey. So, we left Edinburgh in a week, passing through St. Andrews, along the banks of the Tay to Perth, where our friend expected us. But here’s the thing; I was in no mood to laugh and talk with strangers or enter into their feelings or their plans or have good humor or behave as a good guest or even as an expected guest. Accordingly, I told this to Clerval; I was gonna make a tour of Scotland alone. I said, why don’t we rendesvouz?

I’m gonna be gone a month or two. But do not interfere with me, Clerval. I entreat you, leave me to my peace and solitude for just a short time. Actually, this time I mean it. I don't mean like when you go out and I say, oh, go ahead and have fun, and I don't mean it. This time, just in case the leaf-based being’s following us, maybe he’ll follow you. I mean…but I’ll return, and I hope when I do I’ll have a lighter heart and be more congenial to your good temper. Henry wished to dissuade me, but seeing me bent on this plan, he ceased to remonstrate. He entreated me to write often, like you do…like I do with my family, of course. I was a great writer of letters. I was always curteous and prompt. I’d rather be with you, he said, in your solitary rambles than with these people who I do not know.

Hasten then, my dear friend, to return, that I may again feel myself somewhat at home, which I cannot do in your absence. Having parted from my friend, I determined to visit the remote spot of Scotland and finish my work in solitude. I did not doubt that the leaf-based being was with me and would discover himself to me when I should finish, and that he might receive his new companion. With this resolution, I traversed the northern highlands and fixed on one of the most…remotest of the orogenies as the scene of my labors. It was a place fitted for such work, being hardly more than a rock whose sides were covered in waves. The soil was barren, scarcely affording the pasture of cows and oatmeal for its inhabitants, which consisted of five persons, gaunt and scraggy.

Vegetables and bread were luxuries to them, and even fresh water had to be procured from the mainland five miles distant. On the whole island there was just three huts, and one of those was vacant when I arrived. I said, that will…is that the nicest hut you have? I’ll take it. It contained but two rooms, and these exhibited squalidness. Thatch had fallen in. The walls were unplastered. The door was off its hinges. I ordered it repaired, and I said to bring some furniture. There I took possession. This was something that would have doubtless occasioned some surprise not…had not all the senses of the cottagers been surprised by their own downness. As it was, I lived ungazed, and nobody bugged me, hardly thank for the pittance of food and clothes which I gave. But they had the coarsest of sensations, these people.

In this retreat I devoted the morning to labor, but in the evening, when the weather permitted, I walked on the stony beach of the sea to listen to the waves as they roared and dashed at my feet. It was a monotonous yet ever-changing scene. I thought of Switzerland. It was far different from the desolate and appalling landscape. Its hills are covered with vines and its cottages scattered thickly in the plains. Its fair lakes reflect a blue and gentle sky, and when troubled by the winds, their tumult is but as the play of a lively infant when compared to the roarings of a giant ocean. In this manner I distributed my occupations when I first arrived, but I as I proceeded in my labor, it became every day more irksome to me. You see, this was a place that was barren, but I had brought my own compost, obviously. Sometimes I could not prevail on myself to enter my laboratory.

I was like, I can't work today. I just don’t feel like entering my laboratory. Several days would go by, and then other times I toiled day and night to complete my work, back and forth. It was indeed a compost-filled process I was involved in. During my first tests, kind of enthusiastic frenzy had blinded me the first time to what I was doing. I mean, when I made the first one, my mind was intently fixed on the consummation of my labor, and my eyes were shut to what was happening, saying, should there be a compost leaf-based being? But now I went to it in a cold manner, my heart turned off, and just working with my hands. But thus situated and employed in an occupation I was not happy about, I was immersed in a solitude where nothing could for an instant call my attention from the actual scene in which I was engaged.

My spirits became unequal. I grew restless, and every moment I wondered when the leaf-based being would show up. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, not looking up to see them, because they were one that I dreaded so. I didn’t wander much around anymore because I didn’t want to see him and say, hey, I’m here for my companion. Is my companion ready like you promised me? So, in the meantime I worked on, and my labor was considerably advanced. I looked towards the completion with tremulous and eager hope. This hoped I dared not entrust myself to question, but it was intermixed with obscure forebodings that made me very, very sleepy. So, there were times I would rest and get comfortable and get sleepy until I continued once again.

Chatper 20. I sat one evening in my laboratory. The sun had set and the moon was just rising from the sea. I had not sufficient light for my employment, and I remained idle in a pause of consideration of whether I should leave my labor for the night or hasten its conclusion by an unremitting attention to it. As I sat, a train of reflection occurred to me which led me to consider the effects of what I was now doing. Three years before, I was engaged in the same manner and had created a leaf-based being I strongly disliked, whose unparalleled compostiness had desolated my heart and filled it forever with the bitterest remorse. I was now about to form another being whose dispositions I was like ignorant. They might become ten thousand times more compostish than their mate and delight for its own sake in stinking up the town.

Sometimes it’s warm. Maybe…who knows? Compost free to roam. He had sworn to quit the neighborhood of human beings and hide himself in deserts, but this being I was working on had not. They, in all probability who was to become a thinking and reasoning, sentient leaf-based being, might refuse to comply. I was looking for an out, basically, 'cause I was…I wanted to go to bed. They may refuse to comply with the compact I made before they were created. What if they didn’t keep their promises like somebody else I know? They might even…what if they don’t even get along, right? I made them to be partners; doesn't mean they will be partners. I mean, the leaf-based being already had to deal with Frankie. He was like…he already had issues.

What if this being I was working on…what if there was some other great, even stronger feelings about themselves or one another? Like, what if, when they laid eyes on one another, it was like…it was the wrong side of the magnets? The poles, the opposite poles that don’t…or, you know, not opposite poles. They're both compost…who is to say two leaf-based beings would attract one another just 'cause I was told that by a leaf-based being that that’s what they wanted as a mate? That’s what I promised to do, and it was kind of a simple promise…that, yeah, just do this for me and you'll never see me again. I said, whoa, whoa, whoa. What if they turned from one another and say, you know who’s good looking? Those humans. Like, that one sciencey human. No, no, no. No, no, no, not that one.

The one…our creator and their intelligence. Why would I want a compost or a leaf-based being when I could…? I’d say, no, no, no. Or what if it was someone just like me, as rare as that could possibly be? Then my original creation is alone again, exasperated by the fresh provocation of being deserted by one of his own, and even if they were to leave Europe and live in the deserts of another world…yet one of the first results of those sympathies would be hanging out with people, and what if my creations…I was so good at creating stuff that they could then create themselves, like a leaf-based version of a stork, a stork made of compost, if you will? Then the Earth may be propagated with…you say, wait a second, you're supposed to be composting, not running around town.

I mean, this was precarious, a precarious position that this leaf-based being had placed me in. Had I right for my own benefit to do this for generation after generation after generation? I had been moved before by the sophisms of the being I had created, and I had been struck senseless by him. I wasn’t thinking straight when I made that promise. But now, for the first time, the frowniness of my promise burst upon me, and I shuddered to think of future ages who might say, it was that Victor that did all this. He was so…if only he wasn’t so brilliant. But he was also selfish. He didn’t…he was so selfish, he was blinded to his brilliance. If only he had been more shortsighted and less humble.

If only he had known the gravity of his genius and he had hesitated to…instead of buying his own peace at the price, perhaps, of the existence of the whole world. I trembled. My heart was down when, on looking up, I saw by the light of moon you know who, right at the window casement. A grin was on his lips, his leafy lips, as he gazed upon me, where I sat fulfilling the task which he had allotted to me. Yep, he had followed me in my travels. He had loitered in forests, hid in caves, taken refuge in wide and desert heaths, and now he had come to mark my progress and claim the fulfillment of my promise. As I looked upon him, his countenance expressed something, I don't know, that I strongly disliked. I thought with a sensation…I couldn't believe I was creating another like him.

Then I became overcame and I started to tear the leafs up right in front of him, leaf by leaf, all the work on which I was engaged. He saw me, and this was a being on whose future existence he depended for happiness. He howled and withdrew. I left the room and locked my door and made a solemn vow never to resume my labors. Then, with slow steps, I sought my own apartment. I was alone, no one near me to dissipate the gloom and relieve me from my reveries that were not nice. Several hours passed and I remained near my window, gazing on the sea. It was almost motionless, for the winds were hushed and all the nature reposed under the eye of a quiet moon. A few fishing vessels alone specked the water, and now and then the gentle breeze wafted the sound of voices as the fishermen called to one another.

I felt the silence, although I was hardly conscience of its extreme profundity, until my ear could hear shores…oars near the shores, paddling, pa-pa-paddling towards my house. In a few minutes I heard the creaking of my door as if someone was coming in to say hello, and I wondered, but I didn’t get up. I felt a pre-sentiment of who it was, and I wished to rouse the peasants in the village. But I was overcome by a sensation of staying in bed and avoid it. So often you have that sensation in dreams when you in vain endeavor to fly from a situation. I was rooted to the spot. Presently I heard the sounds of footsteps along the passage, and the door opened. There he was, my leaf-based non-buddy, appearing in my doorway.

Shutting the door, he approached me and said to me in kind of a smothered voice, you've ruined the work which you began. What is it that you intend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and misery. I left Switzerland with you. I crept along the shores of the Rhine, among its willow islands, and over the summits of its hills. I have dwelt many months in the heaths of England and among the deserts of Scotland. I have endured incalculable fatigue and cold and hunger, and you're gonna destroy my dreams? I said to him, begone. I do break my promise. Never will I create another like yourself equal and leafy and composty. He got upset. He said, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power.

You believe yourself miserable, but oh, boy, can compost make your life wretched if I need to. If I choose that, even the light of day would be distasteful to you. You are my creator, but I am the one giving out the orders, so you must obey. The hour of my irresolution is passed, and the period of your power is arrived. I said to him, you can't move me to do anything I don't want to do. In fact, they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion. Shall I, in cool temperatures, set loose on Earth another composty being whose delight is…I don't know, whatever you call it? You're years from being fossil fuels or loamy soil. It’s unnatural. You should be loamy soil or on your way to being it, not walking around. I believe in the now that it’s affected me.

I believe in the natural order of things, the circle of life, as it’s been sung. The circle of life has no room for walking compost that’s sentient, so begone. I am firm, and your words will only exasperate me. My leaf-based frenemy now saw my determination and gnashed his leafy mouth together. Shall each person, he said, find a partner for his…and someone as his mate, but yet I will be alone? I had feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man, you human beings are rough. But beware; your hours will soon be compostable. Soon your happiness will be ravished from you for a long, long, long time, as long as you say it takes for me to become loamy soil and then…whatever that other stuff you said. Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensity of my…? Please…I said pretty please.

You talk about my other passions, but now only one remains. Henceforth, dearer than light or food is making you understand how it feels to be me, right? I don't…when you see the sun, I want you to say, ugh. I guess you already do that, but I’m really…I want you to feel like what it feels like to be compost. The thing is, I’m fearless and powerful. I will watch and I will be patient, really patient. I have the ability. You'll repent, dear Victor. I said, composty, cease and do not fill my air with your composty breath and the sounds of your voice. I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath words. I mean, in the…most of the time. But tonight, oh no. When I retract a promise made, I’m irresolute. So, leave me. I am inexorable.

It is well I go, but remember, I shall be with you soon, later, and soon again. I started forward and explained, compost, get out. But you, you're only made up of leaves, so remember that, my friend. I would have grabbed him and spread his leaves about the ground, but he eluded me and quitted the house with precipitation. In a few minutes I saw him in his boat, which went right across the waters with swiftnes, and it was soon lost amidst the waves. All again was silent, but his words rang in my ears. I burned with the temperature to pursue him and precipitate my peace as I followed him into the ocean. I walked up and down my room hastily, imperturbed, while my imagination conjured up a thousand images of compost all around me. Why had I not followed him just then?

Why did I procrastinate yet again in the moment, spread his leaves around? But I had let him depart, and he had directed his course towards the mainland. I wondered for a second, huh, I wonder who he’s gonna run across first, 'cause he’s really in a bad mood. Part of me was like, glad he’s not here. But then I thought about his words. He said…I think he said something about my wedding. He said, I wonder if there will be centerpieces at your wedding. What’ll those centerpieces be made of, autumnal things? Maybe it was in my head, but I could have sworn he said that; will there be centerpieces at your wedding? Then, that was the period fixed for the fulfillment of my destiny, then. Whenever…we’d have…I’d decide we’d have no centerpieces then.

In that hour, I guess I would satisfy…is he gonna ruin my wedding with centerpieces? I didn’t even quite get what he was up to, but I didn’t like it. So, the prospect did not move me to fear, yet when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tears and sorrow when she should find her tables at her wedding without centerpieces…we could do something not inorganic, I guess, but she would probably be upset, the first tears she’d shed in many months, and then mine shed from my eyes…I guess they were my tears, not hers, 'cause I was imagining her. But I resolved not to let my wedding…whether it was centerpieces or whatever other things he was up to without a bitter struggle.

The night passed away and the sun rose from the ocean, and my feelings became calmer, even if it may be called calmness when there’s something else going on deep below the surface. I left the house, the scene of last night’s contention, and walked on the beach of the sea, which at this time I almost regarded as an insupportable barrier between me and the other people of the world. Nay, a wish that such should prove the fact came across me. I thought, why should I bother with a wedding or other people? I could pass my life here on this barren rock. Wearily, it is true but uninterrupted by surprise or…you know, if I didn’t marry Elizabeth, then I wouldn't have to worry about the centerpieces. If I returned to the world, I’d have to deal with the consequences of my actions, which…I had created a leaf-based being.

I walked about the isle like a restless being, separated from all I loved and miserable in the separation. When it became noon and the sun rose higher, I lay down in the grass and was overpowered by a deep sleep. I had been awake the whole preceeding night, and I was up…I was on the edge. My eyes were inflamed by watching and misery. The sleep into which I now sank refreshed me, and when I awoke, I again felt as if I belonged to human beings. I felt human once again, and I began to reflect upon what had passed with greater composure. Yet still, the words of the leaf-based being rang in my ears and appeared in my dreams like a distinct and oppressive reality. The sun had far descended, and I still sat on the shore, satisfying my appetite, which had become ravenous.

I had an oat cake, and I saw a fishing boat land close to me. One of the men brought me a packet. It contained letters from Geneva, one from Clerval entreating me to join him. He said he was wearing away his time fruitlessly where he was, and that the letters from the friends he had formed in London desired his return to complete the negotiation they had entered into for his next job. He could not delay any longer his departure, but as his journey to London might be followed even sooner than he now conjectured by longer…by a longer voyage, he entreated me to bestow as much of my society on him as I could spare. He besought me, therefore, to leave my solitary isle and meet him at Perth, that we might proceed southwards together.

The letter, in a degree, recalled me to life, and I determined to quit my island at the expiration of two days, more or less. Yet before I departed, there was a task to perform, which I shuddered upon. I had to pack up my instruments, and for that purpose I had to enter the room which had been the scene of my odious work, that I must handle those utensils which I no longer…they repulsed me now. So, the next morning at daybreak, I summoned the sufficient courage to unlock the door of my laboratory. The leftover leaves and compost that I had spread around scattered on the floor, and I could almost sense something. I paused to collect myself and then entered the chamber.

With a trembling hand, I conveyed my instruments out of the room, but I reflected that I ought not to leave the relics of my work to excite the people of this island. Accordingly, I put them in a basket with a great quantity of stones, and then laying them up, threw them into the sea that very night. I guess I had a laugh about it. Probably was wrong. In the meantime I sat upon the beach employed in cleaning and arranging my tools. Nothing could be more complete than the alteration that had taken place in my feelings since the night of the appearance of the leaf-based being. I had before regarded my promise with a gloomy despair as a thing that with whatever consequences must be fulfilled. But I now felt as if a film had been taken from before my eyes, and for the first time, I saw things clearly.

The idea of renewing my labors did not for one instant occur to me. The thought about him messing up my wedding or whatever weighed on my thoughts, but I did not reflect that a voluntary act of mine could avert it. I had resolved in my own mind to create another like the one I had first made, but I didn’t agree with it. It seemed to be selfish. So, I banished from my mind every thought that could lead to a different conclusion. All or nothing, man, and I had chosen nothing. I don't know, about 2:00…between 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning, the moon rose, and then, putting my basket aboard a skiff, I sailed four miles out to the shore. The scene was perfectly solitary. A few boats were returning towards the land, but I sailed away from them. I felt as if I was up to something I shouldn't be.

I guess in a sense I was, and I didn’t want to encounter anybody else. At one time, the moon, which had been clear, was suddenly overspread by a thick cloud, and I took advantage of this moment to toss the basket full of compost into the sea. I listened as it sank, and then sailed away from the spot. The sky became clouded, but the air was pure, although chilled by a northeast breeze that was then rising. But it refreshed me and filled me with such agreeable sensations that I resolved to prolong my stay on the water. Fixing the rudder in a direct position, I stretched myself at the bottom of the boat. You know me and boats, man. I love sleeping in boats. Clouds hid the moon. Everything was obscure, and I only heard the sound of the boat as its keel cut through the waves.

The murmur lulled me, and in a short time, I slept soundly. I do not know how long I remained in this situation, but when I awoke, I found the sun had already mounted considerably. The wind was high, and the waves…continually splashing on my skiff. I found that the wind was northeast and must have driven me far from the coast on which I had embarked. I endeavored to change my course, but quickly found that if I again made the attempt, the boat would get splashy, splashed. Thus situated, my only resource was to drive before the wind. I confess that I felt a thrill, both the good thrill and a non-good thrill, and sensations within me. I had no compass, and I was so slenderly acquainted with the geography of this part of the world that the sun was of little benefit to me.

I may be driven into the wide Atlantic and feel every…man, what…my luck once again, right? Immeasurable waters roared and buffeted around me. I had already been out many hours, and I felt…I was thirsty, hungry, and I looked up on the heavens which were covered by clouds that flew before the wind, only to be replaced by others, and I looked upon the sea, and I cursed the sea just like I cursed the leaf-based being. Sea, I said, your task is already fulfilled. You were supposed to be of service to me. I thought of Elizabeth, of my father, of Clerval, all left behind. I’d be out in a boat. I wouldn't be able to help them. They needed me, right? They needed someone to lead them…that merciless compost, leaf-based being running around. What if the leaf-based being was at my wedding, but yet I was not?

This idea plunged me into a reverie so despairing that even now, when the scene is on…when I think about it, it makes…gives me the goosey, goosey goosebumps. Some hours passed thus, but by degrees, as the sun declined towards the horizon, the wind died away into a gentle breeze, and the sea became free from breakers. But these gave place to a heavy swell, and I was like, oh man, this is grossing me out now. I was barely able to hold the rudder with my tummy, tum, tum, tum. But then suddenly I saw a line of high land towards the south. Almost spent as I was by fatigue and suspense…I had endured this for several hours. The sudden certainty rushed towards me like a flood of warm joy to my heart, and tears gushed from my eyes.

How mutable are our feelings, and how strange it is that the clinging love we have of being out there in control of our lives…how it comes in excess of misery. I constructed another sail with part of my dress and eagerly steered my cruise towards the land. I had…oh, the land was a wild and rocky appearance. So was my appearance. Obviously I looked rugged, 'cause I had been rugged. But as I approached near, I perceived traces of cultivation. I saw vessels near the shore, and I found myself suddenly transported back to the neighborhood of civilized people. I carefully traced the windings of the land and hailed a steeple which at length I saw issuing from behind a small promentory. As I was in a state of extreme debility…debility? Yeah, debility.

I was resolved to sail directly towards the town as a place where I could most easily procure nourishment. Fortunately I had money with me. I was smart about that…at all times. As I turned the promentory, I perceived a small, neat town in a good harbor, which I entered, and my heart was bounding with joy at my unexpected…getting towards land. As I was occupied in fixing the boat and arranging the sail, several people crowded towards the spot. They seemed much surprised at my appearance, but instead of offering me any assistance, they whispered together in gestures. Those gestures at any other time might have procured in me a sensation of alertness. As it was, I merely remarked that they spoke English, and I therefore addressed them in that language.

My good friends, said I, I will be…will you be so kind as to tell me the name of this town and inform me where I am? You will know soon enough, replied a man with a hoarse voice. Maybe you've come to a place that will not prove much to your taste, but you will not be consulted as to your quarters, I promise you. Huh, I said. I was exceedingly surprised at so rude an answer. I was a welcoming friend, and this stranger was not nice to me. I was also disconcerted on perceiving the frowny and angry countenances of his companion. So, I got irritable. Like, why do you answer me so roughly, I replied? Surely it is not the custom of Englishmen to receive strangers so inhospitably. I do not know, said the man.

The custom of the English it may be, but it is the custom of the Irish to have strong feelings towards non-nice people, especially people that don’t keep their commitments. I said, what? This strange dialogue continued, and I perceived the crowd to rapidly increase. Their faces expressed a mixture of curiosity and irritation, annoyment. This got my attention. I inquired the way of the inn, but no one replied. I then moved forward, and a murmuring sound arose from the crowd, and they followed and surrounded me. When a man looking…tapped me on the shoulder, he said, come, sir. You must follow me and Mrs. Kirwins to give an account of yourself. I said, who’s Mr. Kerwin, and why am I to give an account of myself? Is this not a free place? Aye, sir, free enough for most honest folks.

Mr. Kirwin is a magistrate, and you are to give an account to him, because something took place last night, and someone’s missing something. I said, what? What are you even talking about? I didn’t do anything, at least anything that can be proved. I didn’t touch any compost or whatever. But I followed my conductor in silence, and I was led to one of the best houses in town. This town…like where I’m from, but I was there…I said, hopefully they’ll serve me…I’m thirsty and hungry and tired and surrounded by a crowd. I thought it was all politic to rouse my strength, to show my strength and resilience to all. I’m not gonna be so tired that I come across as guilty. Little then was I to expect the calamity that a few moments would overwhelm me and totally blow my mind.

I gotta pause here, for it requires all my fortitude to recall the memory that I’ll take…I’ll take…I had to take a break is what I did before I relate it in proper detail as I remember it. I get to this town, I just want a bite to eat, warm…something warm, maybe some people to serve me some food, a bed, people to praise me, but they weren't…but I did rest, just like I rested earlier in the boat as it rocked me off to dreamland, back and forth, back and forth. Goodnight.

[END OF RECORDING]

(Transcription performed by LeahTranscribes)

Title: Frank 10 | Read With Me

Mud in Spas

https://www.piedmont.org/living-better/are-mud-baths-good-for-your-skin-1

https://www.wellspa360.com/spas/treatments/article/21153849/the-benefits-of-mud-and-clay-in-the-treatment-room

https://www.racked.com/2017/3/14/14755358/mud-baths

Oxford

https://www.ox.ac.uk/about/organisation/history

https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryMagazine/DestinationsUK/Oxford-City-of-Dreaming-Spires/

https://localhistories.org/a-history-of-oxford/

Edinburgh

https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryMagazine/DestinationsUK/Edinburgh/

https://hiddenscotland.com/journal/the-history-of-edinburghs-old-town

https://www.nidoliving.com/en-gb/blog/a-brief-history-of-edinburgh-all-you-need-to-know-about-scotlands-historic-city

“The Circle of Life”

https://editorial.rottentomatoes.com/article/the-story-behind-circle-of-life-the-lion-kings-incredible-opening-number/

https://johnblinco.wordpress.com/2016/03/10/deconstructed-the-circle-of-life-the-lion-king-1994/

https://thenerdsofcolor.org/2019/07/16/the-circle-of-life-of-he-lives-in-you/

Wedding Centerpieces

https://organiceventssupplyco.com/blogs/news/evolution-wedding-tablescapes?srsltid=AfmBOoo4_-Og4SBudIpMvdVkUdjv949-I7N0bPSdP5KiZbNYkY_L-pWt

https://dragonettiflorist.com/blogs/floral-inspiration/history-of-the-bridal-bouquet?srsltid=AfmBOop-zb9Wbw6flzsH2Pux1-fKT-B6eGOcIu-oLrRPQLBZbtmrB15_

https://www.bellesandthistles.com/history-of-wedding-flowers

Teaser:

Bogged down thoughts

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

Sponsors: Helix Sleep; Zocdoc; Everyday Dose; Progressive; Warby Parker

Intro:

• I’m not everybody’s cup of tea
• Dipping your elbows in milk
• Dip your elbows in mud – it works for my abuela
• Once it was elbow mud
• What would happen if I simmered some mud?
• You’d be amazed at the viscosity of the mud around your house
• An unwatched pot of mud never boils, especially if it’s turned off
• Mud is used pejoratively for destinations
• Welcome to Mud’s Place
• An Animatronic Bucket filled with Mud
• Even with a mud pie, most of the time you’re making a mud patty
• SWM is a word patty
• Give it a few tries
• I’ll take my sleep with me straight as it comes

Story:

• Chapter 19
• We’ll stay in wonderful London
• I’m trying to obtain the means to complete my promise
• Who was happier? Me or Frankie?
• Remembering days of happiness
• My dreaded interest
• I preferred solitude
• An insurmountable barrier between me and people
• I see my former self in Clervall
• Clerval is open to learning
• Clerval wants to go to India
• Don’t pay me any mind, Clerval
• Collecting compostable materials for my new creation
• A colleague in Scotland invited us to Perth in Scotland
• I wanted to view Scottish nature (and all those leaves)
• Plenty of compost in the woods
• We took the scenic route up to Perth
• Rambling in the beautiful forests of Windsor
• We went to Oxford, where Charles I gathered his forces
• Ugh, liberty
• The streets are almost magnificent
• The lovely river Isis
• My enjoyment was embittered by both my past and future
• Now I’m a blasted tree
• A miserable spectacle of humanity
• Did I forget Clerval? Of course I did
• Our journey was slowed down by so many cool discoveries
• Clerval’s schedule be darned
• Monuments to greatness reminded me of my greatness
• Proceeding to Matlock next
• Matlock resembled a poorer version of Switzerland
• Let’s hit the road, Clerval
• 2 months in Cumberland and Westmoreland
• A few people almost made me happy
• They, of course, made Clerval happy
• We get to Scotland finally
• I’ve been procrastinating
• Will my leafy friend show up?
• I’m growing paranoid about my creation
• I even procrastinated reading letters from my family
• I let Clerval go ahad so I could groan in peace
• Consequences will come
• I love Edinburgh
• I’m eager to finish my journey but I am not happy at all
• I told Clerval I would tour Scotland alone for a few months
• No psychology tricks, please leave me alone
• Hopefully I will return with a lighter heart
• The Remotest of the Orkneys
• The soil was barren and the island had only 5 inhabitants
• 3 huts, 2 occupied
• I’ll take the vacant hut to do my work in
• The morning was devoted to labor
• I walked on the shore at night
• I remember Switzerland fondly
• My labor became more irksome each day
• I’d brought my own compost, of course
• I’d go days without working, and then work for days at a time
• Turning off my heart and working with my hands
• I wondered when LBB would show up
• I was anxious and sleepy
• Chapter 20
• I didn’t have light to keep going one night
• Looking back on where I’ve been the last 3 years
• Unparalleled Compostiness
• What if this new being isn’t as well-behaved as my first?
• What if they refuse to comply with the compact I agreed to?
• What if they don’t get along
• Clearly, I’m looking for any way out
• What if they repel like similar magnet poles?
• And what if my original creation is alone again, aggravated at being abandoned?
• And what if they love the world so much they seek out people?
• What if they then create more composted beings?
• A compost stork
• What right do I have to do this? (I ask myself too late)
• I was so selfish I was blinded to my brilliance
• If only I’d known the gravity of my genius
• And, there in the moonlight, is my creation
• I’m gonna create another like him??
• I tore up the leaves in front of him
• And he howled as I locked the door!
• Then he appears in the doorway
• He questions if I dare to break my promise
• He followed me all the way from Switzerland
• Begone! I do break my promise!
• Frankie is now giving the orders!
• Oh boy, compost will make your life wretched
• Frankie and Vic debate the efficacy of this
• Just be loamy soil, not walking loamy soil!
• Man, human beings are rough
• How deeply must he grovel??
• Cease, Composty!
• I irresolutely withdraw my promise
• I try to grab him but he eludes me
• I see him out on a boat, escaping
• I burn to pursue him
• Why did I procrastinate even in following him??
• He directed his course towards the mainland
• He had said something about my wedding, I think
• “Will there be centerpieces at your wedding?”
• What’s he gonna do to my centerpieces??
• Elizabeth will be upset if we can’t have centerpieces
• I will follow him
• Maybe I’ll just spend my life on this barren rock
• I receive letters from Clerval urging me to join him in Geneva
• He needs to return me to London and wants me to meet him in Perth
• I will depart my island but first…
• I must pack up my instruments
• Entering the scene of my odious work
• Some Classic All or Nothing Thinking
• I dumped my tools into the sea
• I sailed away from the spot
• I decided to sleep again in yet another boat
• I next woke in much rougher weather
• I’m way off course
• I felt both a good and non-good thrill
• Just my luck!
• I cursed the sea!
• I finally saw land to the south
• Misery permeates my life
• The land was wild and rocky, just like me
• I start to see a town
• The Neighborhood of Civilized People
• A state of extreme debility
• Fortunately I had money
• I perceive a good harbor!
• People see me and whisper and gesture
• I receive a cold welcome
• The Irish are accustomed to have strong feelings to non-nice people! What??
• No one will help me
• I must give an account of myself to the magistrate
• Something took place last night and someone’s missing something
• I haven’t done anything wrong (that they know about)
• I need to pause here before I relay what happened next in proper detail
• I just want these people to house, feed, and praise me, is that so much to ask?

Summary:

Episode: 1408

Title: Frank 10 | Read With Me | SWM+ Sneak Peek

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

Sponsors: Helix Sleep; Zocdoc; Everyday Dose; Progressive; Warby Parker

Notable Language:

• Intro (1038)
• Abuela
• Elbow Mud
• Mud’s Place
• Word Patty
• Story
• My sorrowful and dejected mind
• Ugh, liberty
• Placid Expanse of Waters
• Malaise
• Leaf-Based Friend
• The Remotest of the Orkneys
• Unparalleled Compostiness
• Compost Stork
• The frowniness of my promise
• Cease, Composty!
• The Neighborhood of Civilized People
• A state of extreme debility

Notable Culture:

• • Intro (1038)
  • Action Park
  • Action Park Board Game
  • Mud’s Place
  • Story

• Frankenstein

• Mary Shelley
• Oxford
• Edinburgh
• “The Circle of Life”

Notable Talking Points:

• Intro (1038)
• I’m not everybody’s cup of tea
• Dipping your elbows in milk
• Dip your elbows in mud – it works for my abuela
• Once it was elbow mud
• What would happen if I simmered some mud?
• You’d be amazed at the viscosity of the mud around your house
• An unwatched pot of mud never boils, especially if it’s turned off
• Mud is used pejoratively for destinations
• Welcome to Mud’s Place
• An Animatronic Bucket filled with Mud
• Even with a mud pie, most of the time you’re making a mud patty
• SWM is a word patty
• Give it a few tries
• I’ll take my sleep with me straight as it comes
• Story
• Chapter 19
• We’ll stay in wonderful London
• I’m trying to obtain the means to complete my promise
• Who was happier? Me or Frankie?
• Remembering days of happiness
• My dreaded interest
• I preferred solitude
• An insurmountable barrier between me and people
• I see my former self in Clervall
• Clerval is open to learning
• Clerval wants to go to India
• Don’t pay me any mind, Clerval
• Collecting compostable materials for my new creation
• A colleague in Scotland invited us to Perth in Scotland
• I wanted to view Scottish nature (and all those leaves)
• Plenty of compost in the woods
• We took the scenic route up to Perth
• Rambling in the beautiful forests of Windsor
• We went to Oxford, where Charles I gathered his forces
• Ugh, liberty
• The streets are almost magnificent
• The lovely river Isis
• My enjoyment was embittered by both my past and future
• Now I’m a blasted tree
• A miserable spectacle of humanity
• Did I forget Clerval? Of course I did
• Our journey was slowed down by so many cool discoveries
• Clerval’s schedule be darned
• Monuments to greatness reminded me of my greatness
• Proceeding to Matlock next
• Matlock resembled a poorer version of Switzerland
• Let’s hit the road, Clerval
• 2 months in Cumberland and Westmoreland
• A few people almost made me happy
• They, of course, made Clerval happy
• We get to Scotland finally
• I’ve been procrastinating
• Will my leafy friend show up?
• I’m growing paranoid about my creation
• I even procrastinated reading letters from my family
• I let Clerval go ahad so I could groan in peace
• Consequences will come
• I love Edinburgh
• I’m eager to finish my journey but I am not happy at all
• I told Clerval I would tour Scotland alone for a few months
• No psychology tricks, please leave me alone
• Hopefully I will return with a lighter heart
• The Remotest of the Orkneys
• The soil was barren and the island had only 5 inhabitants
• 3 huts, 2 occupied
• I’ll take the vacant hut to do my work in
• The morning was devoted to labor
• I walked on the shore at night
• I remember Switzerland fondly
• My labor became more irksome each day
• I’d brought my own compost, of course
• I’d go days without working, and then work for days at a time
• Turning off my heart and working with my hands
• I wondered when LBB would show up
• I was anxious and sleepy
• Chapter 20
• I didn’t have light to keep going one night
• Looking back on where I’ve been the last 3 years
• Unparalleled Compostiness
• What if this new being isn’t as well-behaved as my first?
• What if they refuse to comply with the compact I agreed to?
• What if they don’t get along
• Clearly, I’m looking for any way out
• What if they repel like similar magnet poles?
• And what if my original creation is alone again, aggravated at being abandoned?
• And what if they love the world so much they seek out people?
• What if they then create more composted beings?
• A compost stork
• What right do I have to do this? (I ask myself too late)
• I was so selfish I was blinded to my brilliance
• If only I’d known the gravity of my genius
• And, there in the moonlight, is my creation
• I’m gonna create another like him??
• I tore up the leaves in front of him
• And he howled as I locked the door!
• Then he appears in the doorway
• He questions if I dare to break my promise
• He followed me all the way from Switzerland
• Begone! I do break my promise!
• Frankie is now giving the orders!
• Oh boy, compost will make your life wretched
• Frankie and Vic debate the efficacy of this
• Just be loamy soil, not walking loamy soil!
• Man, human beings are rough
• How deeply must he grovel??
• Cease, Composty!
• I irresolutely withdraw my promise
• I try to grab him but he eludes me
• I see him out on a boat, escaping
• I burn to pursue him
• Why did I procrastinate even in following him??
• He directed his course towards the mainland
• He had said something about my wedding, I think
• “Will there be centerpieces at your wedding?”
• What’s he gonna do to my centerpieces??
• Elizabeth will be upset if we can’t have centerpieces
• I will follow him
• Maybe I’ll just spend my life on this barren rock
• I receive letters from Clerval urging me to join him in Geneva
• He needs to return me to London and wants me to meet him in Perth
• I will depart my island but first…
• I must pack up my instruments
• Entering the scene of my odious work
• Some Classic All or Nothing Thinking
• I dumped my tools into the sea
• I sailed away from the spot
• I decided to sleep again in yet another boat
• I next woke in much rougher weather
• I’m way off course
• I felt both a good and non-good thrill
• Just my luck!
• I cursed the sea!
• I finally saw land to the south
• Misery permeates my life
• The land was wild and rocky, just like me
• I start to see a town
• The Neighborhood of Civilized People
• A state of extreme debility
• Fortunately I had money
• I perceive a good harbor!
• People see me and whisper and gesture
• I receive a cold welcome
• The Irish are accustomed to have strong feelings to non-nice people! What??
• No one will help me
• I must give an account of myself to the magistrate
• Something took place last night and someone’s missing something
• I haven’t done anything wrong (that they know about)
• I need to pause here before I relay what happened next in proper detail
• I just want these people to house, feed, and praise me, is that so much to ask?