Daily Archives: November 14, 2021

lines

The Sun and Moon seem to be moving very fast in this town.

“I thought I’d come talk to you first, Marilyn, clarify some stuff about your angle in this, ahem, evolving story. We have bigots in town, we have zombies, probably all wearing spiked or non-spiked helmets. Like that policeman who keeps eyeing me all around town.”

She wanted to say Tank but held back. And Bazooka — Bazooka was his dad, and, as former captain of the force back in the good ol’ days, the one who wore the spiked helmet. Tank: just a bright blue cap. Put him in the bigot category.

Then she remembered the slip of paper in her jeans pocket, the one she was suppose to pull out in case she got stuck. She pulled, she read. “Moms, don’t let your boys grow up to be Dimmy Jean.”

Silence. Was that helpful? she pondered, staring into his watery eyes. Was he… crying?

—–

Dimmy wipes the counter down nervously, thinking that 1/2 the people in the room are watching him and half aren’t. But he doesn’t know which. He tries to determine friend from foe through the caps and helmets but all the lines get blurred together. He’s lost it. He needs to go home but he doesn’t even know where that is any more. Home is here I suppose, he says to himself. He pours two shots of Jack Daniels, one for the raccoon man and one for himself. “Here’s to home,” he proclaims while raising his glass, resigned to the fact. Over in one gulp, he pours another while 1/2 the room still eyes him.

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Ten

He gets close enough to where he can’t miss.

—–

“Aw mann.”

“No mann’s from you, young’n,” replies Duncan Avocado to the boy’s protest. “You’ve got to go back to Aunt Clare for a spell. Just until I can figure out a plot to this here photo-novel.”

“But… you’re such a good cook!” George thinks back to the ice. And snow. The crunching. He could lose a tooth this time. ‘Nother one!

“Remember to pack some extra coats. November now. On the other side of the chasm schism, there’s Tennessee. Perpetual snow.

“I *hate* snow!” Certainly sounds like a boy of 10 now. Unless he’s 13. We’ll get to a picture in a moment to properly see and deduce.

“Besides,” Duncan attempts to rationalize. “Your Aunt Clare needs you — she gets lonely, out in those granite hills.

“I’ll have to get some shoes,” George continues to complain. “I *hate* shoes.”

“Now, now,” Duncan tries to calm. “Most boys don’t have your luck in the first place to move to warm climates when they choose. Scratchy just happens to be as far south on this continent as you can get. It’s warmer than everywhere else. You’ll return soon enough. Think of Clare — think of *others*.”

“I *hate* thinking of others.” Duncan gives up. There’ll be tomorrow for more coaxing; maybe the boy will age by then.

(to be continued)

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00300203

Why was he brought back? To contemplate, I suppose.

Tillie will be here soon. But first: the boy. George, revolving around 10 to 13 to 10 and back and back endlessly. Obviously a reference (he thinks) to the relationship of the I and the E of TILE, 5 and 8 tiles respectively. 5 turns into 8 turns into 5 and on and on. Similar — the same, really. Raising up of 3 then lowering back down again. And 10 is twice 5.

It obviously has something to do with the Last Christmas where I couldn’t relay my information about TILE, and its unique qualities, to Clare. I believe Clare is in the background, ready to emerge. But where? And how?

The board, eh? a b c d e. 5. e becomes E. m n o p q r s t. 8. Ultimately back to 5 through 7, T, and 6, L. 5 is I. 5 is Eye. 5 is…

“… me.” Little George.

“Take me home, Duncan. I’m hungry.”

Duncan?

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resemblance 02

Baker Bloch comes back to study it, knowing he was summoned.

“What do you think it is, W.?”

“You know what it is,” she replied, still beyond the frame. Probably Wheeler don’t you think? Maybe not.

“Oracle,” he answered. Both were thinking, of course, of Carrcassonnee. She’s returned (!).

“You put the eye in there,” she stated, ready to move beyond the veil, “and you’ll *see*.”

I wonder additionally if this is Borneo. Borneo to Delphos, actually. “Whadaya think, Blackey?” he says to his bird on his shoulder, the same size from this angle as the blackbird in the background more in the center of the beach, highlighting its name. Staring up as well, Blackey thinks hard. He knows it has something to do with TILE.

(to be continued)

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