Monthly Archives: January 2025

January 20, 2025 · 6:09 pm

00450509 (25?)

Banned from my Nautilus homeland by an overprotective mother fearful of stalkers, suitcase in hand I walk just outside its boundaries and set my eyes and aim on the fabled wall city of Perch-Mistletoe just yonder up on that beige ridge, with half banned itself (Perch?) but the other 1/2 free to roam (Mistletoe?) and even live within as I currently understood the situation. But I ended up going further — to Yd Island in the sw of the continent and revisiting another sacred place that seems untouched and uneroded by the sands of time. That of the Ratzenburger Rabbit, one of my own. I get ahead of myself. I have to talk about Lexi front and center.

She drives up on her rough sounding, rough looking motorcycle basically at the beginning of my journey and soon we’ve joined forces in her quest to find what she simply called The One. “Wanna explore some haunted houses?” she propositions not far into the conversation. Why not? I thought. I have nothing to kill but time.

We started with the one with the barrel. Just on the opposite side of P-M from us. “Just ignore that giant candy sentry over there,” she said as we positioned ourselves a safe distance away from it. “He can’t see you unless you’re standing right under him. Learned that the hard way.” On my part, I was more worried about the suddenly darkness and the need for a flashlight to explore. This didn’t seem like a good omen but too late to back out. I consoled myself by saying that I’d be in the free part of Perch-Mistletoe by dawn’s early light, sleeping under a pagoda or something. Just over there beyond the wall.

And, yep, there was a barrel inside. Lexi seemed relieved that it “mostly contained–,” in her own words, seeming to break off at the end. Mostly contained *what?* I automatically thought upon hearing it. Finish your sentences please.

And then a little later the same thing came up. Pattern.

(to be continued)

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January 19, 2025 · 4:47 pm

00450508

I decided to skirt this arid seeming patch of land a rather large group of buildings nevertheless exists within, not trusting if the ground was toxic or not by the looks of it. While doing so, I fantasized about an imbalance of dry vs. wet, and that this place was a barren wasteland because another neighborhood, perhaps even far far away, became too wet and exotic at the same “time” (quote unquote, because time does not really exist). I found my thoughts becoming weirder as I trodded across this flat flat terrain. How would it end? Perhaps badly, very much so. Yet I had to keep going, nay, I was *commanded* to march forward by powers still unknown. But I had hatched some plans for remedying that. I had to become a *power* myself. God-like.

20 minutes later I stared down at the canal I was walking along and realized how alone I was in this world. Only Me Myself and I around — the Holy Triad — and only 1 of those counted for anything. Yes I needed to consolidate my power. Become all supreme, all knowing.

50 minutes later brought me to Fred (sheep). Fred had a *lot* to say to me; said he’d been lonely too standing in this field of corn without any company for the longest time. He opined strongly about The Netherlands’ economy, saying it was a world heavyweight in comparison to the actual size of the land. 131st in size (among world counties), 2nd in agricultural exports, he proclaimed proudly around the midpoint of our lengthy discourse, which, when checking later, I found to be absolutely correct according to 2020 estimates. I guess Fred would know, living in this country and grazing amongst its agricultural products like this corn all his live long life. We exchanged email addresses and promised to try to keep in touch before I moved on, bound and determined to reach the se corner of Holland by part 10 or at least part 11 of my journey.

A little over an hour later I entered this grassy field dotted with poppies (*not* tulips) and spotted Fred again, even though he had to have been miles away before. “Told you I’d stay in touch!” he yelled at me when I approached. I decided that I needed to call Lester, let Fred talk to *him* to see what he had to say. But all Lester heard was baa-ing of course. I needed that sanity check.

(to be continued)

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January 18, 2025 · 1:35 pm

00450507

In my dreams, I went back to our old homestead in the center left right upper lower portion of Nautilus, Lichen. It was in ruins but still standing. The land around it was barren; even fabled Mistletoe-Perch which resisted so much change before had faded and vanished. The homestead stood alone.

I went inside and found that barrel. We had some good times with that wine in that barrel, Lichen. Didn’t we?

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January 17, 2025 · 8:38 pm

00450506 (cars (doing it?))

One on top of the other.

One behind the other.

Mutual sharing.

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January 16, 2025 · 4:03 pm

00450505

“You are like Jesus in that you can walk across the water to get to your Dry Spot, your place of safety. Go ahead. In your own time.”

Philip goes for it. Yes, he can walk across water. He is a God in this place. He can even control the weather, which will come next. But first the Dry Spot, that Dry Rock in the Dry Spot. Here he can rest, he knows. He decides an hour would be good. Hour Rock becomes a secondary name. Hour Spot.

Fern leaves him alone for a bit in his special place, knowing silence is good. Rest from guidance too.

He’s walked across the water. He’s almost there. Just over there it is.

Ahh. There. He settles in. The rock acts like a natural chair for him. He is comfortable. He is one with this world that mirrors our own in dimension if not quite realism. Not yet. People are coming, he knows. Cars, horses, animals, *windmills* already here. He just has to find the Data Hall in those dreams to learn where all of them went, all his favorite humans. Like Fink, like Susan.

—–

58, 59, *60*. Now for Wet (Rock).

Suddenly he was in the clouds, making it happen.

Poo-wer!

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January 16, 2025 · 3:59 pm

00450504 (windmills)

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January 16, 2025 · 4:56 am

00450503 (crossing)

“I was back at Day 1 even though I had travelled so far. I knew this was Holland still because of the old timey windmill.

“Soon I found the blue and yellow cross in the green landscape…

“… whose correctly aligned blue and yellow eyes as indicated by the red arrow on the map I’d found just before…

“… pinpointed the location of the Data Hall where I’d learn what happened to all the people. Where are all the people? has been a question running through my head this whole time. No cu-clomp cu-clomp cu-clomp-ing of the wooden shoes and all.”

“I see.”

“But making my way toward it I was blocked by something that appeared to be a giant bee with its eerie, almost, let’s say, alien buzzing…

“… which turned into something quite different as I dared to keep approaching: a different kind of crossing — a sign of warning. The windmill in the background told me that we were still in Holland, although, um, updated; more modern; taller… and, er, sleeker. I was still walking the correct course.”

“Of course.”

“Although in maybe a different time?”

“Take your time, Philip,” I said, noticing the sweat beading up on his forehead above his beady little eyes, blue and yellow as well? Nah, let’s just go with hazel. “So what happened next?” I continued to guide.

“Well, not a lot. The dream just ended there with the thing’s alarm lights going off with all the dinging and such. I wake up. Aaand: that’s it.”

He looks up for some sign of approval by me that he had done good. Time to let up with the grilling. We needed to move beyond that warning sign and get to that Data Hall. But not today. Philip’s feeble brain needed time to recuperate.

(to be continued)

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January 12, 2025 · 9:32 am

00450502

“Welcome back,” said business partner Ronald nonchalantly from the porch of Philip’s trailer as he approached. “Where’ve you been?”

“The *Netherlands*.”

“Have a good time?” Philip slammed the front door behind him without answering.

earlier:

“Final-f-ingly,” he says into his magical phone at the end of part 2 of his journey, an over 8 hour walk so far. “A legit windmill, and not just one this time, Lester. Several of them. *This* is the Holland, er, Netherlands I expected. But… still no f-ing tulips which are suppose to be everywhere here. Still no cu-clomp cu-clomp cu-clomp of the wooden shoes since I’ve not seen hide nor hare of any people. Live or dead. So I’m giving the whole *experience* so far a D+ now, upgraded from F-. One out of three obvious clues fulfilled.”

“Well that’s super, Philip,” deadpans listening Lester from the control room of his modest house in El Burro Heights of Lost Sanos up in Grand Theft Auto V.  “I suppose those kind of grades take you back to elementary school where you graduated, what, 60th in your class of 60 from the 6th grade?”

“*9th* grade,” corrects an angry Philip, his default state. “90th of 90 in the 9th.”

“Right right. Aany-way,” Lester lets off, “can you still see Amsterdam in the distance?” Pause. “Phil-ip?” Another pause. “Philip?? Aw shoot,” says Lester to Mikie also with him. “Dead again.”

“Can you hear me Lester, you high school wanker? I *said*, I *see* it.” Philip shakes the phone as if the action would spring it back to life. He’s frozen in his tracks until part 3 starts. Then it’s on – to – Amsterdam, he thinks, turning happy for a change. He’s heard the pot is free and flowing but he’s mainly interested in the harder drugs like smack, maybe even heroin. Although he’s not holding his breath for any return to normalcy about the situation he’s in. Good thing.

Because Amsterdam held new terrors.

“F-ck… me,” he says to himself while spying the melted towers after emerging on the other side of the city’s harbor. “Amsterdam? More like *Rotter*dam here,” and then he laughs at his clever pun involving Holland’s first and second largest cities. Yeah, he could have graduated high school, maybe even community college. If he gave a damn. The life of drugs drew him in and held him back. If only he was on something here to explain *this*.

(to be continued)

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January 11, 2025 · 9:39 pm

00450501

Maybe I can wedge my way through those yellow and blue buildings over there.

Nope. Dead end. Oh well, maybe the green and red buildings down the way.

Bingo!

Free of Stompetoren and its Tiley ways, ha.

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January 11, 2025 · 7:42 am

00450416 (a new high and low of it all 02)

He’d manifested it from below but he didn’t know what laid inside yet. The 420 attached to the outside that had rezzed in in the meantime seemed to be a type of warning. Frank lies within, the dismantler and then rearranger of Carrcassonnee to turn her into this sign. It had happened before, he knew. On her 420th birthday, now 4 years in the past. Time enough to turn the tables of power. He had the eye, the top of the pyramid, all seeing of course. Like Carrcassonnee *use* to be when she possessed it instead. Frank was after the eye all along, eye on the prize as it were. But what about Gus the fire demon caretaker which also must be present within in order for the giant moving castle to appear here in the first place? Time to find out. He looks for a door.

Yes, just on the other side here. He enters.

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