Miss Ouri looks to her right now with her matching orange eyes. “Come out, child,” she urges manifested Shelley. “Come out from under the lamp and become big before us so we can properly see you.”
“No.”
Good girl.
He exited the stylist with a haircut so bad that Google Street View decided to blur it out. Which gets to Spongeberg’s next point…
“Minoa was like a bad haircut in that the stylist had to go, the designer. So I moved you to Fordham up on the beige ridge above us, placed you in a corner there. Eventually this led to Eddy in the current photo-novel, child of Hermon who is also a monster created by another, the CREATOR in this case. Stylist is another word.”
“Snip snip here, snip snip there,” I said to this, thinking of a lion. Thinking of *the* Lion. Gurdjieffian.
I am the stylist he speaks of, I knew by now.
“What couldn’t you fix about your creation, Wheeler? The hair. That jagged, ragged black awful hair.”
“I tried. I really did.”
“By making his face your own. Like staring into a pool of water.”
“Right. But he changed, became independent of me. Through New York.”
“Through *Black Lake,* New York. Old Gregg.”
“I guess,” I answered, thinking of another bad haircut.
“Eddy might be different,” Spongeberg continued. “So also says New York. 2 Coopers as it turned out.”
“Me as Shelley,” I noted. The red haired version, just to mix things up.
And so we’ve come back to the second…
… which is actually the first.
Spongeberg hee-hawed about it and then took his leave from us, also ending this section.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0216, Bogota, collages 2d, Ebbert, Google Street View, Lower Austra, Nautilus, New York
She sang about freedom in this New Island venue where she married one of the Edwards/Eddys early that day in late April’s May, the new island husband joining her on congas. Then she sang about prison, the 7 reduced to 6 and 6 and 6.
I’ve seen her before I believe. Called her up but it was the wrong number. Killed and beheaded by the Witcher but rose back like the Alabama Phoenix, monstrous fangs in their appropriate slots across the inner mouth, SMILE.
She gets away by being in her own sphere.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0101, Alabama, Bogota, collages 2d, New Island, Willow Hill, Witcher
We use ART to discover who the true stabber is.
—–
“Oh Gregg Oden my opposite evil evil green twin! What have you done what have you DONE?!
“Hello 119? I mean 911! I’d like to report an accident. A horrible horrible accident!”
“Calm down, sir,” said Gertrude on the other side. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Stabbing. STAB!” Greg Ogden’s imaginary Juho art studio conveniently located on Makers Lane with door always slightly ajar come to life, as it were. As it *is*. He looks down at the body, quickly bleeding out. Not much time!
“Okay, I’ve tracked your location. We’ll send Charlie and Peet right over. Don’t leave the scene, sir!”
Then he was back at the beginning, painting Black Lake that wasn’t actually black except in soul. Should’ve never switched over to oils.
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Oops, he thinks while checking the photo-novel 45 clock behind Redd, its time quickly running out. See ya, my new muse. Gotta go meet Tobor down at the beach to end this thing, but not before leaving my door slightly ajar of course. This could be a deep one.
As it turns out, Greg’s Makers Way is not the only Maker in the area. There’s what appears to be this fashion magazine located in a small, out of the way radio station in nearby Seogwipo about 200 meters away, which DJ Carolin “Wind” Willows is just entering to begin her long long workday isolated from the rest of the world. Tough since she’s a sociopath, I mean, a social person. She rethinks her career choice every time she walks through that door. She also leaves it ajar? Could be.
Ahh, a little Blue Moon Kentucky from her independent label Sun Records will help first thing in the morning, she thinks. Little track called “Elvis Esley” penned by Scottyd Bill that helped put her back on the musical map after the breakup of the Cracks. Here goes!
Listening to the lyrics, Carolin can’t help but wonder again how such a depressing song ever made it to the top of the pop charts. Suicide! And more.
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He stands up upon the princess’ guard’s approach. “You’re up,” he says to this smiling Mr. X, just happy to be here in this time, this space. Mountaintop.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0310, Bogota, collages 2d, Haze County, Oooo, Willow Hill
—–
“Off by Tin,” said Fern to this, knowing Mercury was instead actually Poison to the alchemists of old. Like her.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0107, Back Rooms, Bogota, collages 2d, Twin Peaks, Willow Hill
The 4 horsemen are logically reduced to two and brought into closer proximity with the main body that leads or steers. Let’s call this one “Big Ear 02”. What’s he hearing through the fusion?
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0605, Bogota, collages 2d, Willow Hill
Augusta ponders blame and culpability. Looking at you, city council.
In the mind’s eye, Frank drives by the now empty lot after the disaster and thinks of his own emptiness, as in the past he came from. Growing up in Davis with an aunt he didn’t respect enough in retrospect. Didn’t take her woman power ways seriously enough. And now here he is desperately seeking the feminine in himself. Too much masculine: too many powerful, horse laden yellow cars and such.
Who to turn to in a crisis? Certainly not questionable tea dispensing Albert from Murkville. Should’ve screened him better before the hire.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0303, Bogota, collages 2d, Georgia, Google Street View, GTA, Willow Hill
… Colorado to end, an enlargement from the past. ‘Nother one.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0317, Bogota, collages 2d, Falmouth, GTA, Washington, Willow Hill