Category Archives: Haze County

March 25, 2022 · 9:19 am

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Stacks of rocks greeted me upon my return to Newfound Lands today, right where I park my car and cross a small stream, an out of the way place indeed at the entrance to my “secret path” up the hill (I call it the Daffodil Path). I took it as a sign someone was pleased I was doing this. Thing is, it rained really hard last night and I believe the rocks had to be stacked earlier in the day because of flooding, only several hours at best before I arrived. Yet no one was around. I donned my “I Believe” cap and headed up to the pasture…

… where I investigated the small mailbox at the top that I had found about a week or two back. I was, again, surprised when pulling the contents out and seeing New City immediately, another proper name involving new like my Newfound Lands this place is right on the border of. Beyond the mailbox: the unknown, the new. Perhaps a kind of city should be built there too. I will return to this mailbox soon for more pics.

Two golf balls down the hill in New Lands beyond the pasture, a pink one followed closely by a white one, a Wilson. I surmised these were hit from the ridge to my west where a row of houses exist, the only residences around. Wilson beyond pink: I interpreted this again to represent blog core avatar Wilson Wheeler, a male, who is better known as Wheeler Wilson, a female and thus represented by pink — my main female character since novel 2 to complement primary male character Baker Bloch. The unknown involves balancing male and female, black and white, to form a fusion, a synthesis, a *flow*. Wheeler here has taken over from earlier Baker Blinker in this aspect, although Baker Bloch vows that Baker Blinker will not be forgotten and that they are still one underneath it all. So another 1/2 and 1/2 situation that blog readers I’m sure tire of hearing about, ha. Okay (don’t do it): *1/2 and 1/2*.


Wheeler supporting herself in the role

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March 24, 2022 · 2:00 am

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A triangle of rocks before Fern Wall, before reaching the Delta, even further before the Mystery Cave, as we’ll still call it. I had the impression that 3 “tribes” meet here to talk of differences and similarities. Some kind of wood entities I’m talking about here. Just up the path from another rock I call Guidance which marks the boundary between known and unknown for most. Not me, though. Not any more. I’ve gotten *that* far.


Deeper into what most still call the Unknown but which I’m dubbing Newfound Lands. That tent on the Delta owned by Erik or Erik’s son, who knows Stan who knows Jim who knows Tom. Interesting colors — blue and yellow. 2 colors which are on a lot of people’s minds these days. And Baker Bloch last night purchased a freebie blue and yellow tent in the game that is Our Second Lyfe, along with a similarly 2 toned balloon and, let’s see, I think I got a Ukrainian sleeping bag as well in the deals. A lot of the world — and the unknown — is about coordination of symbols through space and time. Maybe all of it. Whatever we call him (or her), this Erik *did* camp  at the relatively remote Delta and left his tent behind as a marker. I just happen to find it during a conflict between Ukraine and a bullying neighbor, cities and towns left in shambles just like this tent. The Delta represents an obvious center to my Newfound Lands and one I’ll keep going back to for more symbol gathering I’m sure. Most likely.


Mystery Cave now, perched high on a cliff above Delta. To my surprise a bit, there’s an actual opening here that, oh say a man (or woman) just shorter than high grass could amble through without stooping his (or her) head. Just saying. Really, it was a remarkable crevasse — again I’ll come back to it soon with more pics and stories. This little person who went inside the mouth — name was Carter, like our Biff. We have that much.

At Mystery Cave looking down on the Delta. You can see almost its whole triangular surface from this pic, River to left,  South Branch at top, and then North Branch just hidden by the downslope in the foreground. Branch (feeding both North and South at western point of the triad) just off picture to the right. Another glorious day in the mtns. by the way, with temps in the lower to mid 60s. Again this is a pretty remote location. Quiet except for the highway about two miles off to the south. I’m so curious about the Delta camper now, but all I have are symbols and signs. No way to know who it actually is, and perhaps that’s the point. Filling in the picture of the unknowable.

And I’ve saved the best for last: more photos of that Monolith thingie just up the hill from the cave. It’s not quite as big as I expected up front and close, but it’s certainly still Monolith-y with its jutting position, rectangular appearance, and thin depth. I still believe it’s, let’s say, “man-made”. More on that soon too.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monolith_(Space_Odyssey)

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March 22, 2022 · 2:10 am

newfound lands

Apologies to the reader: I couldn’t get a decent shot of Fern Wall or Fern Hole today. I certainly will return there and take additional photos on perhaps an overcast day, bringing out the colors more.

Moving on to Delta, then, just to the north, just up the cliff path following the River. In checking today, it kind of is a true delta, with the small stream at the head of it splitting into 2 smaller streams there, one proceeding down the southern side to the River, and the other following the northern border of the flat, triangular piece of land to same. So that’s North Branch, we’ll call it — and I guess this makes the feeder stream merely Branch to simplify — and South Branch, with River defining the 3rd side, or base, of the thing.

Below is a picture of a ruined tent near its center. Someone must have camped here for a while. Mystery Person. Or someone wanted to *indicate* that a person stayed here, hmm.

The Delta also contains several small trees (have to check what kind) with cow bones littered around their base. More symbols? Delta as location of the dead?

It just occurred to me that the site may have been manufactured. I’ll ponder on that strange idea further. The Delta may have been created, but perhaps not by man. Maybe humanoid but maybe not man.

Then it’s on to Mystery Cave this fair day, just north of Delta and visible from anywhere on its triangular territory. As I think I stated, I don’t believe this is a real cave, although I still haven’t examined the “mouth” (dark crevasse anyway) up close. Maybe tomorrow, slated to be another beautiful day in the NC mountains.

Appropriately, mysterious paths are found on the cliffs surrounding Mystery Cave, adding to the mystique of the location in general, Fern Hole/Wall, Delta, and Mystery Cave in toto. Oddly shaped trees, etc….

… with the etc. now including what appears to be a Monolith, again from the distance. I will also check this up close tomorrow, but on my hike today it clearly stuck out as peculiar. If it truly turns out to be worthy of the moniker Monolith then the person who camped on the Delta perhaps just turned into Erik. Or Eric. Or perhaps his son.

More soon.

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March 19, 2022 · 12:42 pm

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Tomorrow I head again to Fern Wall, Delta, and Mystery Cave, which is not really a cave unless you were, say, shorter than high grass. Report soon.

filed under: Get Out!

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January 27, 2022 · 9:33 am

THIS SIM 02 01

“*You* are Taylor,” she exclaimed excitedly across from him, wearing her standard green shirt with the lantern symbol, one from a Golden Age long forgotten by most. But not by Fern.

“And… you are?” Jeffrey Phillips remains confused. He had crossed the line from This Sim 01 into This Sim 02 and found himself here. On this couch. Speaking to this… woman. Stranger. Her eyes were brilliantly alert. She was always thinking, he realized, always spinning around something in her head. He thought back to the rainbow Ferris wheel.

“Orange,” she proclaimed, then seeing his continued blank look, said, “no not the color, the number. You are looking for VI. Ruby,” she furthered. She saw recognition in the eyes. “A… purple car, not blue not red, merges with orange to exit in you: Taylor.”

What was she *on* about? he thought. He briefly contemplated that he had died, had drove his red 57 Chevy into that levy between sims and all this, all that followed, was his dream in the afterlife. Taylor? Was that his new post-death name? And this person: some kind of angel? Or maybe: devil. Half and half. He slapped himself in the face. Didn’t work. He was still dreaming in this reality, wherever he was.

“What do you mean I’m Taylor?” A series of images formed on the couch across from him in place of Fern. He hadn’t yet realized this was his old gal pal Charlene the Punk, come back from the future after her dissertation on Bigfoot had been completed, turned into a book which was turned into a movie which was turned into a franchise, toys, cookbooks, the lot. There was even a brand of kitchen sink named after it. Bigfoot went from backwoods legend to front and center superhero. All the children knew who Gene Fade was and that his birthplace was at Jupiter Rock and that he spent his formative years in Mocksity and that he lived to be over 400 years of age. Children wanted to *be* Bigfoot now. Children wanted to live relatively forever too, where a childhood would last one of our present lifetimes. Fern knew a lot, had seen a lot. Fern had been augmented, just because she could afford it due to the franchise and all. And she had created 2 others just as tag along friends, one a ditzy blonde and the other, the other…

She changed back. “You were in that wagon,” Fern started again, like a well oiled machine, a purring car, a cat pouncing on a bat. Lee Meriwether had nothing on her.

Ruby, he remembered. The witch had said the same thing: that he was Taylor. The spirit she had summoned faded back into the netherworld it had come from. No: there! Outside the wagon now, floating across the landscape, heading toward a bridge of interesting design.

Another sim crossing. There! That’s where he had died. But not Taylor; the other. 2nd in command.

Man About Time woke up. Strangest dream, he though, and picked up his pen and pad beside his bed to jot it down before he forgot most of the details.

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January 24, 2022 · 9:14 am

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She became his most regular visitor afterwards. “Tell me more about the Merry Go Round people,” she requested in her cool, silky way while remotely animating the pair again and making them spin around a common axis. Axis, she thinks. Her *husband*.

“Crack and Whack, police agents, or so they claimed. More prisoners to this small isle,” he said in his toy bear voice, just made for a loving child who was far far away now, in a different plane of existence actually. “Punished because of a bust. Broken into pieces they said he was. Took them forever to put the guy back together, the chief-inspector said, Petty I believe, unless it was Ketty — can’t recall which, actually. Usually my memory is excellent, like an elephant’s.” Should have *been* an elephant he laments here, daring to glance past Alysha’s tall, sprawled out body beside him at the Ella Phanta ride across the water to their right. Still fully on dry land. Unlike him.

“Hmm,” she replied, and sat up or rolled over, take your pick.  But then she switched everything around and enacted the unexpected, turning toward the bear instead and starting to apply suntan lotion to his smiling head. New!

“So, Mr. Teddy (squirt). Tell me (squirt apply) how Baker Bloch got off that island over there? (apply apply)” She’d taken off her hat as well. Didn’t get her anywhere. He hadn’t requested she turn into a bobblehead, like Baker. After all this time. You think it would happen already if it was going to happen. She was tired of talking about the beach toys. She’d gotten their story now a half dozen times apiece. Always the Ketty-Petty confusion, and he doesn’t even know he’s repeating himself.

“Jen-nny,” he said, completely falling under her spell and revealing stuff he would never do otherwise. “Paii-d.” He meant bail here.

The next time she kept her hat on while still fulfilling his sentence. You can say their relationship changed.

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January 24, 2022 · 7:06 am

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We start again not at Ruby’s left leaning wagon in Spirit Witch where Waldrop was summoned but instead at the nearby community of Bear occupying a tiny island in Moomit Bay directly below Monevole. Baker Bloch bares his head in deference to the great King of the island: Ted, of course. Ted Bear. You had to bare something, he gathered, to have an audience with him. The hat would do, Ted indicated to the newest visitor to his islet kingdom. Thank you, he added. He was glad of visitors and wished them 24/7. He was an extreme extrovert, thus his isolation in the bay as everyone around him tired of his constant visiting and hovering. We’ll come to you now, they all said around him, wishing him well on his new venture. He didn’t understand at first, cried a lot, but then came to accept his “imprisonment.” *Selective* extroversion, that’s the key, they said, still gathered around him on the shoreline but shortly to leave, back to their spouses and siblings to heave a big collective sigh of relief that Ted wouldn’t come a knocking on their door tonight or tomorrow night or hopefully ever again. Something is not right with you, they said, almost at the end. This is the only way. And then they were gone. Ted turned on the radio. Storm a brewing. More tears fell. The lighthouse blinked on and off at his bidding but there was no way to go inside. The toys down at the beach played on. His only companions now except for the occasional visitor, the ones who cared. Ted foresaw in the palm leaves the coming of a tall, white eyed stranger, a cowboy, no a spaceman. Half and half, although he wasn’t suppose to use that phrase in front of anyone else. Keep it to yourself, they also said that day they left him on that islet, never to return again to normal existence.

So he was not surprised at the appearance of me, Baker Bloch or Baker B., who fit the description of the prophecy. “You have to bare…” he said to me because it was part of his sentence on the islet. Like I said. “… something,” he completed, looking me over good, picking me apart even. I took off my hat. It seemed to do the trick, like I also said before.

Looking at my shiny dead dome, he decided I should go one or two or five steps further and turn into a bobblehead of myself. “This is so we don’t feel you are talking *down* to us,” he says in his bear voice, tamed from years playing with human children. He hasn’t eaten anybody since ’62. Not since he was an actual bear, himself shot in ’65 and stuffed into a toy. He was soo happy at first! A toy! he cried. I can do *anything*, play with anyone, *be* with anyone. Humans watch out! And they did. And so he was here.

So *I* did, and he promptly gave me what he declared was my own island as a reward… just right over here within close earshot; they could talk all the time, he said, trying not to show too much excitement. I had successfully become one of them, whatever that actually meant.

The wrong Ruby suddenly appeared on the beach across the water. I realized I had been trapped as well. I believe she may have been cackling but it could have been the sound of a sudden gush of cold wind blowing across my bare head atop my now diminutive body. Then the others appeared…

I was no extrovert but it was the same with me. They were irritated and they decided to isolate. I counted at least 7 people on the shoreline who I thought were true friends.

(to be continued)

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December 30, 2021 · 10:36 am

Maria von trapped.

“I remember the circle squared, Hucka. Can I call you Hucka without the D? Or Doobie?”

“Call me whatever you like. Fred if you wish.” Hucka D. looked around at the same old place. The Old Same Place.

“That would, I suppose, be looking at the bell from below.” He peered at the old photo, then switched it back to Nautilus, the present square and circle combined. Gordie Down’s head blinked off, as if he’d fallen asleep. Wee Norris on his shoulders came around the bend like on a carousel and took over. “So here we are.”

“Fountain,” Hucka D. corrected after giving it some thought. “1/2 and 1/2, though, although we aren’t suppose to talk about that.”

“Limit saying that, yes,” Baker Bloch understood. So many 12 Oz Mouse references in their talkings, like it was the center of the Universe and not Clyde. But everyone knew it was Clyde. Trouble is, no one could get there to see what it was like, not even Gordie Down, although he continually reads about it dawn to dusk and dawn to dusk. Billie Jean Kidd dreams about it as well: a wanted paradise of sorts for her. Add in NORRIS and you get a 40 year stretch of history, not 20, a 2 fer 1 kind of deal-i-o or sumtin. That was the secret of Wheeler on top of Wilson. And Wilson on Wheeler – 1/2 and 1/2 again.

“Baker,” Hucka D. interrupted my reverie, as she was suppose to do here. “I… have to go.”

“Wee wee,” but he didn’t mean yes yes. Okay, 1/2 and 1/2. STOP

GO “I’m back. Someone needs to clean up in there.”

“Last owners,” I clarified. “It was as if the filth was baked in back there in the shadows, the darkness. Same in the bedroom.” But Baker Bloch knew he wasn’t suppose to talk about that room. Keep with the bath.

“There’s tiles out in the shower — I pulled back the curtain — couldn’t help it; saw the outline of something through the curtain. You need to fix that Baker B. And the fence. Neighbors are talking. People beyond the veil are talking, like [delete name]. How are you going to find Ancient Clyde in all its black and white glory with its horsed and horseless carriages if you can’t even manage the present (situation), hmm?”

He, I mean, she had a point (*scroll*). She gets up then down and points to the one with the stinger beside masked Gene Fade. “This is me.”

In a whale of a position, a tree grows out of Newt’s head.

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October 21, 2021 · 7:48 am

akin to Pandora’s

I was always the smartest girl in school. I was always first to raise my hand to answer questions from the teacher. But my *brother*… we didn’t know until much later his special special talent. He *couldn’t* be edited. Let me state that again: He *couldn’t*… be *edited*. No wonder he got frustrated by his 2 dimensional family, including me (me!). He was 3d all along, working on a higher plane than us. A *channeled* plane, true, but still: highly psychic, more than the rest of us. I had to step out of myself and turn into Jennifer Lane to understand better. Before, I was Jenny Lane, a kid at Forest Hill School for psychic children. Jacob I. was there a bit later — he went over to Hillside on the other hill side of town for his elementary years. Now I was grown up; all weedy. But I didn’t smoke pot to get high. Grown up — but I felt my apples were too small. I wanted to exchange them with another’s. Harrison Ford Jett seemed a perfect (imaginary) candidate. I was always a Star Wars fan growing up, not even learning about Star Trek until the 11th grade, almost done in school. My classmates called me Spock but I thought that was because of my glasses, before I got my (umbrella) contact lenses and could read with my eyes. The library remained a far away and fuzzy edifice after that, shrouded in distance producing mists by then. I proceeded forward with my new life with Tommy beyond academia. Family became priority.

A child is born, a child is given. Julius, although I wanted a Julia. Sex happens. Then the second: a mini-me of sorts. I projected into her. When I got my new eyes (in effect) I realized we were the same deep down, where it counts (166). We made a pact: she *became* me and I became her. Then we hid this fact to others in a carefully placed box. Where was this box? (Borneo) We had both forgotten where we hid it. (Borneo) And the umbrella design has a story of its own as well.

*Ding dong.*

Oh dear, that will be the neighbors, the Wells. Rosie or Rose, my sister from another mother, as we say, then Indian — love of my life until I met Tommy over at a tailgate party. Tommy Tailgate he was after that. I became pregnant that night.


turning into Jennifer Lane

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October 21, 2021 · 1:30 am

A more proper, grown-up way of saying it…

… as in weedy grown-up. But I’m lichen it! More soon.

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