Monthly Archives: September 2025

00480108

The band was already playing when we walked to the bar counter, started asking loud questions over the noise. “Anyone here by the name of Tom?!” I began. “Maybe a doctor or something?!”

The bartender looked confused at first, as if attempting to process the request. His eyes rolled upwards a bit, then he said, “Tom, you say?!”

“Yeah!” I shouted back. “Maybe a doctor?!” I reinforced the second part.

“There was!… here, let’s go outside and I can talk better! Joe, hold down the bar for just a minute!” What appeared to be the barback — bartender’s assistant — didn’t look too happy, but then moved to a customer who had just approached the counter and took an order. He seemed to know what he was doing.

Outside we got a lot of information from Harry, who also told us that Tom was a Dick. Tom Cruise, as it turns out. Like Julee but different.

(to be continued)

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00480107 (front, and back too)

“I got my first full blown color tattoos right here in [Dokken Hollow]. Eddy, my Edward, was also my tattoo artist of choice. In that way and more. Butterflies,” she elaborated. “Red green blue, like the primary colors.”

“Of light,” I tried to pinpoint. “Not the Earthy pigment kind.”

“That’s correct. Combined to make purest white. That’s the navel. But there was also yellow; the gold chain that came later was predicted. This represents, you could put it, my connection with the Mother Sphere — Earth as you say. I am from this Earth and to the Earth I will return. The body is temporary.”

“Of course,” is all I could think to say here.

“Eddy — my Edward again — said the butterflies are the fish released at the core center. They work my way up one leg to here. He said the fish should not continue, poopooing the idea I came in there with. He said fish should be paired or countered with birds — can’t remember which one he said now. But I do remember the ‘aha!’ and the sticking up of the index finger in the air to also indicate he had a brilliant idea. Come to think of it, the yellow was already there too. He said he needed to release the Earth. You are from the Mother, he said. But you are not *of* the Mother. You are your own self, (in) your own sphere. Butterflies should do the trick, he said. Birds would be too busy, he went on. Butterflies are simple — pure flight indicated. Less Earth. Yes, he said, let’s look at some patterns and I can have the whole thing done in an hour, 2 hours tops. And so that’s how I met Eddy.”

“You mentioned several tattoos. Several full blown color tattoos.”

“Two, yeah, I flipped over after that and he did the back as well. A tree, but with the same colors, mix in a dash of orange this time, a dab of purple. I basically had to take my tank top off. And that’s how it all got started. I have no excuses. I’m just telling you the way it went down. At last.”

“Amen to that,” I say.

[delete 3 exchanges]

“Afterwards, he said he was closing at 5 because the band would be starting soon and he can’t take the noise. He pointed backwards, to the wall; toward the Bang Bang (Bar). I lose some business that way, I also remember him saying. Drunks coming in here from the bar, wanting to mark up their body in some way, in some fashion, often to keep up with the Tom, Dick, and Harrys of the world. Or compensation. OR — Tomasina, um, let’s see, Diedra I guess, and then Harriets to end all that (laugh).”

“Of course,” I say again. “Female to male.” I wondered if the mention of Tom was accidental but that’s just how my mind works these days.

(to be continued)

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00480106 (pets pet)

I’d like to think this is my family. Father mother son.

And over there where the mother is staring? Baederwood. I have that much.

Now to find Dr. Tom who has information about the 2 Hills. Maybe a gardener too?

Let’s start here.

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00480105

In the sim of Juho that New York transplant Carolin stands at the center of above, the blight was getting whiter which meant worse. Central persimmon tree that formerly existed on this very spot: gone. Soon all the citrus trees, including the more lemony ones, would also be affected, she knew, and another reason for staying here in the first place might be lost. Nawt Vaya — the water of Jeogeot’s largest and also probably only inland sea has power but not unlimited. Soon things will begin to disperse again, although Our Second Lyfe will retain its primary importance in the blog and attached photo-novels. At least while the *latter* is also still around. Do I see an end? 47 and counting now. Not really.

Carolin turns. Better find Sep over at the stylist to get that butterfly hair in place again.

—–

“Yeah, that’s pretty red, Lexi, I mean, Shelley, AHEM, I mean — *Wheeler*. But we’ll get you set up again.”

——

“*There*.”

Back to my old self, she thinks. Now to try it out on Frank Lynn sitting over there getting his own kind of haircut. She looks over, making sure he makes eye contact with her. There! No sign of recognition. Ex-cel-lent.

Now to change out of these silly child’s clothes too.

She stares at her reflection again. Eat your heart out, Frank!

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00480104

“Weird how it’s just spinning on its own.”

“Yeah, and we’re not even touching it yet (!). Energy is strong here for sure. Soooo… you ready? Just grab it and it will stop; it will magnetize to you, then. You start, and then I’ll take hold of it too.” Black first, Lexi knew from past experience with this kind of setup. Like a proper game of Iowa cheskers out in some random cornfield.

—–

“Are you there, spirit?”

The planchette rather quickly moves to YES.

“Thank you. Can you tell us your name?”

The planchette pretty quickly spelled out EDWARD and then PIERROT. So far so good. Everything Philip described is turning out correct.

“Are you the same as Edward Hopper?”

NO, came the even quicker response.

“Can you tell me if you go by another name?”

The planchette stayed still about 5 seconds. Then: JOHNSTON.

“Johnston?” Lexi uttered. “Who do we know that goes by Johnston?”

“Lexi!” Frank exclaimed. “Your hair!”

(to be continued)

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00480103 (not yet)

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00480102

https://www.sartle.com/artwork/soir-bleu-edward-hopper

“I’ve figured out who Edward is, Lexi. I don’t think we have to worry about Philip now as much as the castle itself and what, as he says, lives behind the walls. Realism strikes back against abstraction!”

“Say what?”

He swivels his laptop with the appropriate article pulled up toward Lexi. “The perriot. That’s Hopper. Found it pretty quickly using a search for Edward + pierrot.”

“Oh. Edward *Hopper,*” she said, recognizing at least the style. “So that’s who’s haunting the castle? A dead artist?”

“Kind of. Still unclear on that. But I’ve decided we need to have a seance. You’re the official channeller of Nawt Vaya Free State, Lexi.”

“Only because of that premonition about the alcoholic sea monster!” she says with a laugh, Hole in the Wall bar raised 100 feet in the air just in the nick of time to be saved from swallowing.

“Nevertheless, I think we should try. Else… Philip will never come back up. He’ll always be with you, Lexi. Forever… and ever. Noooooo escape.”

“Okay okay, I’ll do it,” she relents and then stares at the laptop again, the white face, the painted red lips and the cigarette sadly drooping from them. Another dropper? She imagined it spilling from his mouth, catching the crotch of his sad clown pants on fire. How to put it out how to put it out? He can’t. Not without our help.

“Tonight?” requests Frank. “I know it’s short notice but… I can’t sleep in that place now. He’s staring at me too!”

“Tonight,” acquiesced Lexi, already planning what candles and incense would be required to set the proper mood. And, of course, the Weegee board.

(to be continued)

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00480101 (new month, new photo-novel)

“Who are you? And what are you doing here??”

——

“He said he was this guy. I’m telling you Frank. These walls are haunted!”

“Simmer down, Philip. Say he *gave* this to you?”

“Yeah; just dropped it into my inventory and then vanished. Said he lived here. He’s lived here for a long time. Behind the fireplace; in the walls. Watching. This is a colored version of him where I saw a white one. But I know they’re the same. And… sorry about saying the word colored,” he apologized while looking over at his black friend, who took the mention in stride. “Like black-and-white and colored TVs I suppose,” Philip needlessly continued the apology. “No harm meant.”

“Watching, huh. Creepy.” Frank didn’t believe Philip’s story but was just going along for the ride.

“Like I said, Pierrot’s the name. Edward Pierrot. Said he died here or something, then mentioned Alabama. But now he’s back, he said. Like the Alabama Phoenix, whatever that means.”

“But… Phoenix is in Arizona. Dawg,” he added to make it more authentically him.

“I don’t know. But I, um, might not be coming up as much, Frank, to be honest with you. He’s *watching*. How can I play pinball in peace and escape all the stress of the world if I know *that*.”

“Truly an issue. Well, tell you what, Philip. I’ll dig into it, maybe hire some kind of exorcist, you know.”

“Really?” exuded Philip, still not catching on that Frank doesn’t believe anything he’s saying. “That would be *great*, bud.” And he punched him on the shoulder to show his gratitude and then excused himself, saying he’s late for dinner with Lexi down at the sea. He still didn’t like Frank to call Nawt Vaya a lake but Frank doesn’t do that much anymore. He’s caught on too. He likes it here! No dead fish smell, etc. Much better than the Alamo where it/they came from. “Remember the Alamo,” Philip likes to say. “And then forget all about it,” he adds the punchline, the joke of it all. Alamo > Nawt Vaya. Fate, they’ve determined. Lexi too in her own special way and special place manner.

After he went home, Frank continued to stare at the painting Philip left behind. Frank can’t return it immediately or Philip will see it show up in his lost and found folder and maybe get wise to his little game. So he just moves the thing up into the ceiling so he won’t have to look at it all the time. He’d have to talk to Lexi about Philip’s new issues first chance he gets. Maybe an extension of the ones we’ve seen him saddled with in photo-novel 47 — just completed in the nick of time for its end of August deadline, yay!

https://bakerbloch.com/virtual/sunklands-2025-middle/


Another Edward Pierrot from a land far removed now (Mythopolis).

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