Daily Archives: January 8, 2018

plans

Heidi Hunt Ives read to him from their user’s Big Book of Synchronicity Interviews:

So how about “Foreign One” or “4orrin1”, then? To me, it naturally follows that “4orrin1” must be defined as something beyond a silver or gold tiling, and I chose the highly valuable metal platinum to name the process. “Head Trip”, although simpler, actually acts as the first true platinum synch that I concocted. It’s very simple, really: “HT” is two basically complete golden tilings woven together — tiles switched on and off between the two — to create something beyond each. In other words, it’s the tiling of 2 equivalent full movies mashed together in a back and forth manner. Back to your question then, Karl, “4orrin1” is kind of 4 gold tilings synched together, yes. But – – this is also very important — platinum tilings can contain not only a multitude of equivalent gold tilings within but also *silver* tilings. And to this, at the center of both “Head Trip” and “4orrin1” — and also “Billfork” — is one particular album apiece by the esteemed comedy group Firesign Theatre, dubbed the Beatles of Comedy at one point. Basically Pink Floyd handed off to Firesign Theatre in “Billfork”, which contains music and equivalent albums from both.

She closed the book and laid it back down on the Great Table. “This is why The Bill are so important to Piera because The Bill are Firesign Theatre, Man. Tin S. Man.”

“But we can’t talk about ‘4orrin1,'” he replied. “Nor ‘Head Trip’. Our user has tried that… and failed (SEE: ‘Paradox II: The Chancelling’).”

“We can limit ourselves to ‘Pumpkintwisters’, though. Tossing out the weak ‘Kansas City Life’, (it’s) the first synch combining 2 movie into 1, the first example of platinum in that way. The great 2-n-1. And that’s why we have brought you to Capitol City and put you up at a cheap but clean rental in the northeast part of the burg I found the other day by accident. Because inside you is lead Kinks Ray Davies, their main man by a, er, long shot. But he doesn’t have a big head about it, hehe. You know and freely admit that now.

“Yes. Interesting collage by the way.”


Gila 01

“The problem becomes: Who plays Zappa? If we extended our discussions to ‘Head Trip’ — which we won’t — *I* could play lead Monkees singer Davy Jones, since that’s *my* name.” He of course is featured in ‘Head’, the pop group’s trippy dippy hippy movie from the late 60s.”

“You as David Bowie, you mean. David Bowie’s given name was David Jones, which he changed because of the presence during his rise to fame of the already very famous Monkees singer.”

“Right. He did. *I* did.”


Boos 07

“And ‘Trip’?”

Heidi paused. “Zappa’s realm too, and a bigger one… but we cannot move into that dialog any deeper. We talk about ‘Pumpkintwisters’ and that is that. You fit in strongly there as the centre, Tin S. Man. Also ‘4orrin1’, but that’s even further away from the light, beyond ‘Head Trip’ even…”

“More complexity. Complexity stacked atop complexity.”

“It is the ultimate synch in ways, that and the parallel ‘1 Pink’, but it remains in pieces inside an shallow grave not of one peace. The whole must be collaged together still to (properly) fill the hole.” She paused, scratched her nose. “Yes, we will return to the Blue Feather for ‘Pumpkintwister’ discussion. I will work on the Zappa issue.” Heidi pulls out a pocket calendar. “How’s Friday the 26th for you? Sorry again about the location change. I didn’t realized that the intercontinental interwebs cables hadn’t been stretched between Corsica and Gaeta V yet. We remain in the Dark Ages here.”

“‘Tis Alright,” Tin S Man replies. “I’ve had enough of Capitol City and its bland and boorish manners anyway. Tronesisia… aww rats!!” He recoils from Heidi, unable to backtrack the slip.

“Tronesisia?? Did you say Tronesisia?? What’s Tronesisia got to do with this?” She gasps.

“You’re not *together* with Tronesisia are you? Du warst nicht mit ihr auf eine familiäre Art zusammen?”

Tin S. Man hung his head low. “Ja.”

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rave’n

“You were *superb* Mr. Tom Casey. I smell: *emmy-y-y*!”

“Thank you Billy Jean Kidd. Oops. You’re Heidi Hunt Ives now.”

“I am.” She shifted her small weight in the chair. “And how is Karoz down in Chilbotown? Chilbo! as the locals cheerily shout.”

“He’s fine. He’s eager for a return as well.”

“Another eager beaver, cool. But… we must give you a full name. How about Casey One Hole? Reference to both your Indian complexion and a signature kill, perhaps. And how’s this (for a catchphrase): I don’t come from Uranus, I come *for* Uranus.”

“Too gay,” Casey quickly opined. Seeing Heidi scowl, he clarifies: “What I mean is that I’m not a gay character, or at least that shouldn’t figure into the equation.”

“Good enough. Ditch the catchphrase. Keep the name, however. Let viewers ponder over it.”

“So tell me about these prison schematics,” Tom Casey inquired. “What’s my modus operandi and such?”

“Here,” Heidi returned. “We can just pull them up on the screen.” She looked around the large, long room.

“Oh drat, we don’t have a media feed here.”

“That’s all right. Just tell me about them for now.”

So Billy Jean Kidd who is Heidi Hunt Ives explained how the 5×5 layout of metallic looking maps shown in the last Collagesity novel is actually of Montgomery County, Arkansas with its Rubi and Silver villages and the rest — Waters, etc. But it’s somehow also the prison schematics over in Gaston. “Maybe Gaston is actually South Yankton?” she then asks, half to herself and half to Tom. “That would go along with the tropical clime,” she quickly followed. “North Yankton: cold. South: warm… hot. Brazil.”

“I don’t know,” Tom Casey the actor offered. “Oklahoma has to figure in here.” He begins to create his own back story. “I’m an Indian in the past too, perhaps. Hana Lei — check out that Lafferty fellow’s novel, eh?”

“I will!”

“Anyway, we’re in Beaver City, Oklahoma and not Beaver City, Nebraska. The only other one. That means we’re in the past and not the present. Dust Bowl.”

“Beaver as the 7th and last county of Oklahoma before it became a brand new state. I’m trying not to confuse it with Ohio again.” Casey doesn’t get her inside joke. She continues after clearing her throat. “Anyway, I think you’re on to something there (as well). Let’s put all the ingredients together and make a big, whopping celebration cake. Emmy-y-y!” she trills again.

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15 minutes later…

“Did you get the information I wanted, Norris?”

“N-no. Not yet.” He was trying very hard not to perspire, show fear. But Casey drew it out of him. He *fed* off of it. “I guess… you heard about the beaver?”

“The beaver is not of my concern,” Casey said mechanically. His whole tone of voice was drained of emotion. Casey knew that Jeffrie Phillips would soon be reading this blog post and catching up with him. He needed to stay one, preferably several steps ahead in the game. And we’re not talking about Grand Theft Auto here, ridiculous bank heists and shite.

Norris continued to stare forward into the red curtains. He’d been doing this for as long as he could remember. Weeks, maybe months. Years, even. He had *hoped* that Casey would stare straight ahead as well and not at him. But he could repeatedly sense what felt like two laser beams burning into the back of his head. Cheater! Trying to extract the needed information that, yes indeed, he had. Prison schematics.

But Casey already knew this.

The suspiciously tanned man moves forward on his couch and leans toward Norris’ head, his mouth not half a foot from an ear now. “There’s a par three at the back nine of my club,” Casey hisses menacingly, “where the flag pole sometimes goes missing when I make my holes in one.” He withdraws from Norris and gets up to take his leave. “You think about that over the next several days.”

Norris finally couldn’t help himself. “Don’t… *look* at me,” he said weakly.

“You have until Monday to get me that information, Norris. ” Then he was gone, silent as a cat.

—–

Karoz Blogger was next for a visit.

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