Category Archives: MAPS

prick

“What happened to you? Tell me *every-thing.*”

“There was this other man. Todd. Lured me into a trap. Triangles.”

“Triangles?”

“Irresolved, he said. Called me in to help.”

“Mushrooms?” she picked up. “Should have let him down. Slow and eassy.”

“Yeah, I know that *now*.”

“Right. Okay. Continue.”

“A dreaming boy. 5 cats out on a limb. The boy dreams the cats, the limb. It is he. They are waiting for the one who chops the limb off. Fallen.”

Uninjured Wonderlady sits back. “How is High Fidelity doing anyway?”

With this they enter the sphere (*POP*).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0402, Illinois, Nautilus^^, Slaashsides

Frank *What*bert?

“See? Right at the beginning of Frank Albert Rd. in Fife: a (robed) Freman. This is suppose to be Frank *Herbert* Rd., and perhaps in the future it will be. If the descendants of Albert agree to it. And why shouldn’t they? With some kind of compensation. We’ve been in Tacoma before? I know we have,” she answers herself. “Proctor St., I believe. Another road, a foreshadowing. Don’t you think?”

There were no blue eyes, but the resonance was still unmistakable. Speaking of which…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0317, Purden/Snowlands^, Sansara^^, Washington

squeegeed

“Using the tip from Sally, we followed the car all the way to the entrance of the park but could go no further. *Fifes* Grove Park, like in Barney Fife.”

“Like in Barney *Rubles*,” emphasized Man About Time, fascinated with the new information. He hardly ever emphasized anything in his speech, so mild manner and calm and cool and collected he is. But this seemed different. They had found a way… inside.”

“I thought you might want to know, being second in command of this here chilly town in the mountains.

“So beige,” said MAT almost religiously. But he understood. “In case something happens to me,” is the unspoken sentiment.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0212, Iowa, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

monumental

“If I had wings like this I could do a lot better. But instead: hooves. *Horns*.”

Recently deceased Jer Ronamy remained confused. Was he or was he not talking to God?

—–

They buried him in the new section of the cemetery dedicated to non-Hollywood stars, because Jer Ronamy, ex 5’5″ star guard for the local pro high school team the Bottle Crunchers, certainly wasn’t Hollywood big, like Frank Baum or John Ritter or something. His family couldn’t even afford a tombstone, although they promised to purchase one later as soon as Uncle Stan’s airport scheme deal came through. Probably isn’t going to happen, understands Jer Ronamy standing beside his own grave as a disembodied spirit after everyone had left, still clinging to form but soon to give it up. Hummy the Hummingbird accompanied him on his visit, who was sent by the ones taking orders from the deer we just saw up above. Or make that down below?

“Can we go visit Beethoven’s grave while we’re here?” requested trilling Hummy. “I don’t get out that much; want to, er, *kill* as much time as possible before going back in.”

“Sure, sure.” He wasn’t ready to go back either. He still liked the feel of this body, despite the added weight. He died way too young. He heaves a big sigh and follows Hummy over to the actual, famous people, the ones with tombstones.

*Only nine symphonies,” laments the colorful, vibrating bird. “Should have been 19.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0117, Europe, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

links

“Have you heard, the news, Douglas? “‘Daily Toilet’ says Picturetown is back on the map and humming.”

“Distractions,” offers Douglas Blue Feather, the local sheriff ’round these parts. “Us Angels should stick to what’s good for us. *Dreaming*.”

“But reality beckons!” Douglas hated when Yellow Purse Kimball shouted during a game. And this is the first hole (!). What will the 8th, the 11th, the 16th bring? A noisy snack of Big 60 cookies in assorted vanilla, chocolate, strawberry packed away deep in his golf bag? Gum chewing; finger snapping; whistling; singing, even: “Singin’ in the Rain”? Weatherman Fox Stet, a professor of biology over at Camden Yards, forecasts a good chance of storms this afternoon. Per usual in early May or June or whenever the f-ck it is now. Along with the wind of course, the constant evening billowing.

“Better finish by 2,” Douglas says, looking up in the skies. Clear sailing so far. He glances over at his golfing partner already swatting away. “Maybe, Yellow, we should save the putting for the actual green and not the tee.”

“Hey, I’m just practicing!” The shouting again. Oh looky, there goes the first piece of gum into his mouth. It was going to be a long round of golf. The only reason he’s doing this in the first place is get the scoop on Picturetown, because Yellow Purse Kimball has inside stuff. But he mustn’t be too obvious about the prying, the digging, the scooping. “Vanilla and chocolate,” he imagines saying to Don the ice cream vendor between front and back nines. “And top it off with, let’s see…”

“Strawberry?” guesses Don, still 9 holes away in dream-reality but already scooping away at the brown and and then white filled buckets below him in his imagination.

“Let’s go with lime.”

——

“This is absolutely the longest f-cking round of golf I’ve ever played, Douglas thinks after 2 pieces of gum, 5 whistles, and 15 hums by his count. And we’re only 1/3 the way through! Don and his delicious, home made ice cream, sorbet and sherbet is still 3 holes away. Can he hold out for his just reward? But he’s already got some scoops, so to speak. Information, that is. White Palace, Toddles the precious precocious child stuck exactly halfway between 23 22 and 22 23. Male and female. This information definitely didn’t come from the “Daily Toilet”. Inside stuff indeed. He looks over: at least Yellow Purse is on the green while putting now. Can you take any longer to make a shot? Oh, there’s goes the humming again, the stalling. He’s recalculating his line. Might as well dream about ice cream again, pheh.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0609, Angel's Rest, Canada, Canada/Picturetown

00260601

Middletown subway:

“We found a dogg, Police Chief Vice Chancellor Inspector Martha Wiggins. But *not* in *this* Lyfe.”

“Where, then?”

“*Reality*.”

“*Where, then??*”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0601, Nautilus^^, New Mexico, Slaashsides

Burro Alley

Andrea Stoorm (killer) and Duncan Avocado had a followup meeting to their first at Jim’s-later-Cory’s Club but it didn’t go so well. Multiple theories were tossed around with none settled on. Blue and red remain confused and muddled.

“I have to split this damn dopple town,” thought Mary Ricardo, walking away from it all. Dopple on dopple!

Unseen Alysha knew more than she let on.

She heard the alley whispers.


Real Life Burro Alley, Santa Fe, NM

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0515, Nautilus^^, New Mexico, Slaashsides

time barrier (morning to evening)

“These are powerful people,” spoke Buster in my head. “They control *portals*. Portals between realities. And once you cross the line you may not know which is which.” Wise words from a small vampire man, still living in VHC City near Duncan for all I know. Still frequenting that bakery where Duncan was inducted into Pot-D, until the cursed, bloody Yelloo sun comes up at least. Give him the light and dark side of the moon any time. Give him money procured from criminal actions deep in darkness and shadows. Give him… well, we’ll leave out the third. In fact we’ll chuck the whole dark triad, for Buster Damm is now full of light and goodness, thanks to the blood transfusions combined with the positive energy of Pot-D itself. Yes, the story of our small vampire friend, best buddies with fellow and much larger (or regularly shaped) vampire Pitch Darkly, will have a happy ending. He has his wife Betty now, who can appear tiny, like him, but also larger — to allow the couple freedom to move about in the world of regular joes and josettes — are also born again TILISTS. They’d studied the sinks of Maebaleia and other continents extensively. They’re convinced of the 3d hyperspin of Maebaliea and Jeogeot separate from the rest of Their Second Lyves to create the sinks in the first place. And above and beyond this, roosting on it like a demented OWL… but I’ve said too much here. ROOST is key.

—–

What did Duncan see on the other side of the 300? He observed the observer, almost hidden in a small wood of trees behind a barrel here.

He had dominion over his compact, changeable kingdom-queendom at 200 E Locust, he and his wife. But the wife also observes, 2 1/2 years in the past, an overturned chair on a porch just to the west. The lawn deer’s baby has moved back into its womb. Stars appear.


May 2018


Dec 2015

And a blue sphere moves from one side of a small garden space to the other to emphasize its importance. I think we know what *this* means.

Better shot of the observer.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0316, Eveningwood, Illinois, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^

cross plains

Duncan pauses in his examination of Eveningwood. 300 address at the western edge of town: where had he seen this before? And a “ROOST – Jasper Landing TALL Fence” over there — interesting.

Duncan would keep going, but he would never return to Our Second Lyfe as he crosses the boundary between real and imaginary on the other side of the 300. Virtual I meant there. Real and virtual. He was a black man inside the sphere; he never knew what hit him.

“Oh *I* see. Field *on*. As in some kind of activated force field.”

“Spherical in nature,” he added.

But who were these people inside this darkened cinema on the edge of realities? They stare into the screen as if a window.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0307, Eveningwood, Illinois

grid patterns

Kolya truly loved Hidi but could only touch and hold her in his dreams. There he called her “my unicorn” — that could be an alternate title of this post. The shower had yet to be installed at the uncompleted bathroom down toward the bay area in the dreamscape, but at this tree they’d set up duplicate poseballs in the meantime. It wasn’t ideal. Most times they just pass through each other, like tonight. There was no water, thus they remained dirty, or attempted to be. He called her a bad kitten and had to be punished. She laughed — that smile again. Always the smile. She took the tomfoolery good naturedly. It was all play in the land of dreams.

Reality reared its ugly head again. Kolya was sitting apart from Hidi in the train, who had also nodded off then woke up. They were having the same dream in fact. And where was Sam Jerry, her real part-time lover? Husband Axis had been left behind in NWES City, where he ran a brothel for cows. The other Jerry, who also goes by Harry and even more commonly Norris, had decided to become tiny again and look for his old home in Rose Heaven. He planned to go back to composing but slow it the hell down this time, one tri-chord per 2 seconds at most.

So they pondered about each other in awkward silence. In another dream, Kolya, and probably Hidi along with him as he thought he recalled, took the train all the way to Picturetown. “Where the hell is Picturetown?” he remembered asking a jogger on stilts in Toronto.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0204, Canada, Canada/Picturetown, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Omega^^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^