Two realities were superimposing themselves on top of each other, inadvertently (perhaps) creating chaos and confusion. He simply didn’t know; he simply couldn’t understand. In the moment.
I’ve created the bare bones of a consignment store on my Rubi property not seen since the very beginning of this here photo-novel, number 22 in a series of 20. The first thing I decide on to fill out the 4 square emptiness is a Volvo station wagon, which definitely does *not* have two handles on its back door nosiree.
Let’s just prop it up outside for now against the building’s unfinished, plywood exterior.
Then I add another image inside that has become meaningful to me today: the collage characters I call Source (Male) and Lake (Female) — perhaps another version of Adam and Eve and the whole Apples story — *hiding* something. Like we are seeing through a wall into another dimension.
And since the Tacoma consignment store the impossible station wagon is driving by on N Proctor Ave in that first picture above is named Megs and Mo, I suppose Cassandra City’s Moes Bar is related somehow. The transparent Source and Lake image comes from M & M as well — very important there. More soon.
“Phil had the richest, most complicated sense of humor of the four of us,” said his Firesign Theatre partner David Ossman. “He loved what he called ‘the stupid’ and he could twist it into surreal pieces of head-beating comedy. His High School Lunch Menus, the Irish guy who taught how to paint like the insane, the Funny Names Club of America. He had the whole range. Bergman and Austin were really the Lennon and McCartney of the group.”
We do not purport to know what’s really going on at this French rr station with its blurring of time.
But could it be something to do with, for example, *this*?
Out on the platform, people walk one way…
… then mysteriously switch directions for the next shot.
A man appears just in this one photographed panorama and then vanishes. The logical answer is that this is the cameraman himself. Why the similar jacket and shirt to the other man here, though? Is it just chance; did they think this resonance funny and thus the jumping out of 1st person perspective and into the photo? Why at *this* station of all places? The Center of the Universe.
At the end of the camera’s journey on the platform, time is different in the mirror…
… from reality.
For the ultimate answers we may have to look upwards.
“She’ll get back here,” he said. “Go ahead… continue.”
As Baker spoke, the rest of the “Wall of Ass.” disappeared behind him, leaving Dali’s paintings alone in the apartment.
Later Hucka Doobie and Baker Bloch find the correct consignment shop with the red box dress in Annapolis MD but decide not to enter. They’ve had enough fantasy for the current photo-novel.
“I suddenly have to go pee, Hucka Doobie. Better pull off at the next convenience store. Need gas anyway. This Post is bigger than we thought! Like traversing a whole country in a microcosm, I suppose.”
“Lots of ‘P’s’ along the way for certain,” offered Hucka Doobie, tired of driving and listening to toddler-like Baker Bloch complain. Perhaps if he drives he’ll have more to occupy his mind. But she likes the company. An excuse to spend time with him. Always nice if sometimes irritating in the same moment. She instinctively feels the top of her head with a free hand. Antennae hadn’t grown back yet. Maybe they never will. Maybe they’re gone for good. She’s human through and through now. Perhaps that means…
“There!” Baker Bloch barked in his back seat driver kind of way even though he’s in the passenger seat.
But it was a consignment shop and not a convenience store. Bake’s bad.
Hucka Doobie makes a sharp turn, surprised she could drive the car all the way to the store and not have to park in the road or something.
Baker gets out, checks the sign. “Stripes,” he says, seeing red all around. “Seems familiar.” He then holds the crotch of his pants while his knees knocked.
“Better get you inside before it’s to late,” said Hucka Doobie, chuckling a bit. But she too thought there was something odd about this store. And when they went inside and found apparently blood stained designer dresses on a rack in back their suspicions were verified.
The artist whose name sounds like Rothko sits opposite Andy Warhole, one a-hole of a guy.
“The soothsayer will be here soon and we’ll *see*…
who’s the better artist in hyperspace and hypertime.”
“Just hypertime will do. I don’t do hyperspace.” His voice was level and confident, like he was the more famous artist already instead of a basic unknown. Andy was threatened. He’d been to Gabby several times since we last saw him over in Cassandra City (Moe’s –now sold!). The picture was clearing in his smoky ball. Andy was not the most famous artist of the land! Gabby then explained this was in hypertime — Gabby worked mostly in hyper worlds to see his visions, he said — and thus there’s *time* to change the outcome. Gabby didn’t illuminate the idea of complementary hyperspace to the rather dim witted Warhole; probably knew it would be a waste of his breath. Hypertime was enough for today. The stage had been set. And here he was, murderous covid ravens circling above and outside this tiny cafe perched on the top of Yellowmoon or thereabouts. With the artist whose name sounded like Rothko but wasn’t Rothko. Close! Close enough for Andy. Because Andy indeed thought he was this artist. He had trouble resolving near from same in his fuzzy way of thinking, and Barry was just playing along with the confusion. So this would be another Post involving Close.
Thoko: that’s it. Maker of fine designer women’s clothing. But that would become a front for something much more deep and sinister, like the Amazon itself. It was like going from Nowhere to Somewhere…
Ant arrives from his castle in the distance. Harrison Jett will soon show up from his castle in the opposite direction acting as rear guard. Soon the battle will commence in earnest.
(to be continued)
“It’s a crossover post from this here blog over to Facebook-land, Hucka Doobie.”
But Cassandra Blueberry, wanna-be Blue Berry Girl of the great state of NWES City, was there instead. Similar in ways but I wasn’t suppose to talk about that any more.
“I thought your name was Constance” I replied to her greeting.
“Find me,” she said in her pleasant voice, with no hint of a troubled past. “I’m still relevant.”
I doubted it. I had chosen another. Wendy. Like “The Shining’s” Wendy except different. More red I suppose but perhaps not more bloodied. Ketchup again. I left Cassandra to hold the irrelevant mustard.
“It’s a landscape tile, perfectly square and I don’t think it could be here by accident. Just thought you’d like to know, Baker Bloch.”
“Well um, *thanks* Biff Carter.”
“I have an office set up already in The City to start examining the oddities of this area. This — New Eden.”
“That’s great. I wish you well. Let me know what you find.”
“I’ll send you a report daily.”
“Er, what about Cassandra City? I thought that was your base? Did you have a falling out with the guy in the trench coat? Wait — I suppose *you’re* that guy, or the replacement. Comedy over gravity and the like.”
Biff Carter thought about this for a change before replying. He didn’t want to become totally stream of consciousness. I realized who he might be tonight.
“We have a mutual friend.”
Thought so. But what of the square landscape tile? It *was* here. And he was right: ’twas a strange phenomenon and I don’t think it could be accident. Must be the work of Carrcassonnee again. I understand she has a car now that she can steer around. CAR.
“Don’t get to close to it,” peering Biff Carter warned once more. “Could be radioactive; could be a plant.. er, planted here by Umbrella.”
“Yeah, been meaning to ask you about that. Who, or what, is Umbrella? Red or maybe red and white striped.”
“Strip, yes.” Did he say strip?
Must be catching…
The community was settled by people of German descent, and was originally known as “Berlin X Roads”. The Berlin Crossroads Post Office was established on June 28, 1850, and stayed in service under that name until December 30, 1933. As of 1901, the community was known as “Berlin Cross Roads”. After World War I, due to the local feelings towards Germany, the Berlin part was dropped and in 1962 the community was registered with the USGS as simply “Roads”. At that time, the population was recorded at 130.
The highway constituting a portion of the Appalachian highway system, and running east and west across the state between Cincinnati, Ohio and Belpre, Ohio, and passing near the city of Jackson, Ohio, shall be known as the “James A. Rhodes Appalachian Highway.”
Whenever a section of said highway is opened to the use of traffic, the director of transportation shall, as soon as practicable, erect thereon suitable markers indicating its name.
Effective Date: 09-28-1973 .
So let’s see what we have *here*. Lightning couldn’t strike again at another X Roads… could it?
Looks pretty innocuous so far, but there’s men there again.
Hmmm: Twins. You have to stand right in the center to get the best effect.
Roads from Carcassonne’s CAR (Complete Annotated Rules):
A completed road
A road is completed when the road segments on both sides end in a crossing, a city segment, or a cloister, or when the road forms a closed circle. There is no limit to the number of road segments which can lie between these endings.
A player who has a thief on this completed road scores as many points as the road is long, decided by counting the number of tiles.
The Red Lake River (French: Rivière du Lac Rouge; Ojibwe: Miskwaagamiiwi-zaaga’iganiiwi-ziibi) is a river located in northwestern Minnesota. The river begins on the western side of the Lower Red Lake and flows westward. After passing through Thief River Falls, Red Lake Falls, and Crookston, the river merges with the Red River of the North in East Grand Forks.