00510414

https://bakerbloch.wordpress.com/2015/02/12/22431/

“I’m opening Embarras 09 in a new window. We’ll begin tonight. We have an actual spine, or a metallic representation thereof within, alongside the spine of a book. And not any old book, but Sherwood Anderson’s ‘Winesburg, Ohio’. A metallic boy seems to look through the book at a woman with a man sitting in her lap in front of a cave. This is Odysseus. This is the cave of Calypso. On Calypso’s lap is Edward. E. Swift…”

Hucka D.:

Not your Edward but still your Edward. He represents the Great Rubi Forest through the Big Thicket of Camp Ruby. Lucky you. He is you established in Collagesity, Rubi style or Minoa style. He is *protection*. The boy attempts to look at the lady. Yet Edward is in the way. The lady is on a red rug. On the top part of the metal spine is the same cave, smaller in perspective, with a *blue* stream coming out of it. This is the opposition of red and blue, Russellian style. The blue and red face opposite ways in front of the cave. The blue stream from the cave seems to “pour” into the spine from the top. The spine is the same as the (spine of the) book.

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00510413

—–

“Frank?” she muttered without rolling over after hearing the cries coming from the nursery next door. “Your turn to check on the little bambino.”

—–

Frank wakes up.

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00510412 (lost)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uqg0HVr7Q-A&list=PLHzy4id4jfCqTLvHkBLbvHzO_6ssdvoMg&index=3&t=204s

“Hucka! Why didn’t you tell us you were a star back in the day??”

“Hucka?”

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00510411 (within, the eyes)

“I’ve changed the title again, Shelley. Not ‘Woman in Red’ now, not ‘Woman in Red Rain.’ ‘Woman in Red Rain*bow*.’ You know what I mean.”

—–

“I can be whoever you want.” He stared at me for a minute — final green following up middle red and original blue — then took a pad from below him somewhere, scribbled something…

… showed it to me. “You can be yourself,” he’d written down, a smiley face tacked on at the end. Well… he asked for it!

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00510410 (the mirror is a square)

“That picket… fence. Something’s wrong with it.” He continues to stare. “Really *wrong*.” Standing with feet bare in the snow, it was the first time Mr. Gold, Mr. Has Everything, noticed that his perfect world he had created for himself through hard work and supreme effort was breaking down.

The worst was yet to come.

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00510409 (now)

“Status report, Wheeler,” says team captain Baker Bloch. “Where is the cat now?”

“Well,” says Wheeler to his left, breaking away from staring at herself in a black mirror long enough to glance behind him at the screen. “Looks like she’s here.” Then back to the mirror.

Baker doesn’t need to turn and look behind. His eyes are Wheeler’s and visa versa. Same with Newt on the other side of Baker here. The great triumvirate of Self, kind of like Me, Myself and I.

Grassy Noll sitting opposite them in the scene remains a hot red square of anger. What about me me ME? he fumes.

And where is (blog guru) Hucka Doobie in all this, sort of the original AI? Me too? Obviously, I answer myself. tbc

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00510408 (no internal)

“Why are you both Frank and Daisy and Newt and Wheeler?”

“I am all males and all females at once. This is the only game I checked that you can do that.”

“Do what?”

Log in 2 players at once. It allows me to much more easily role play for the blog and attached photo-novels. I do not have and do not need an outside partner in order for it all to work. I have no helper, and never did in the game of Our Second Lyfe. My only aids are the world around me as a whole. I can (also) use characters from Grand Theft Auto, Cyberpunk 2077, Witcher, and Red Dead Redemption and they need know nothing about it. They are just empty associates, devoid of soul except what I create for them. I am actually the only one here. My own little kingdom.”

“As the castle you both inhabit, the two sides of you as Frank and Daisy who are also Newt and Wheeler as you’ve reassured me, I only keep my eyes peeled outward instead of inward per your fiction.”

“Good. This castle is complicated. It houses other beings. Father Fecked is still in the downstairs bedroom I fixed up. Philip keeps popping in and out, mainly to play his High Speed pinball. Sometimes I am down there playing the piano just across from him. Daisy (Moments) piano — wasn’t planned that way, though. On it, I play songs about her. Fitting. Chromagraphs.”

“Chromagraphs?” It was a new subject — could he or she handle it? Of course!

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00510407

“I *know* you,” I said when seeing her inside the Secret Door.”

“Of course you know me,” she said in my mind if not my body. “Center.”

“Center,” I echoed in the chamber. Significant pause.

“You left me in the dark. To fend for myself. I was… waiting for you.”

I couldn’t figure out how to answer this. I considered that I didn’t know who I was talking to after all.”

“I came as soon as I could,” I explained. “Fiction is more synthesis than analysis. You can’t look forward and backwards at the same time.”

“Can’t you?” she countered

We were in a lighted area now, but the eyes inside the black faced head remained her own.

She was showing me Center again. Where it all began. TBC

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00510406 (spouse and Jerry)

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00510405 (high noon)

“You know we have a Westwood too, full of women and apples. You’re not the first of your kind, Franklin. Or Frank Lynn; whatever.”

This f-cking planet, he thinks later to himself as he stares across the river in his dreams, into a different New state altogether. Old New to New New. If I would have just left back then everything would be all right now, he continued. But he knew that was impossible given the direction they all — all of the prisoners of his, um, New Home — were actually facing. Up. TBC

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