Category Archives: Illinois

00420406 (LSD (strutt’n Struthers))

“Sato is from the North.”

“From the North.”

—–

“She’s pretty good — ‘Classical Gas’ I believe. But her yellow-ish skin doesn’t show up well against the yellow background. NEXT!”

“What’s this electro-crap?” spoke Martha Lamb/Wheeler to Baker Bloch, who was helping out again. Wonder what happened to former helper Newt? Anyway, he answered: “It’s Osamu Sato, a very important figure now in the blog, or at least the current photo-novel. 42. Remember? We were suppose to answer everything in this one?”

“How’s that going?” said Wheeler to this. Very predictable. And right on the mark.

“And it’s played by Kangarootown’s very own Okama Majo. Very close. Maybe the same.”

“Alright,” Martha Lamb/Wheeler relented. “If you insist.”

“Arkansaw hog calling by a Fayetteville boy named Don — insisted on standing in front of the stage to what he called, ‘have more impact on the audience'”

“Absolutely,” judged Martha Lamb/Wheeler, not needing to hear more than a couple of ‘SUUUUUUEEEEEY!’s.

And then, ahem, Shelley Johnston Struthers to end. Had to be.”

“Always wanting the spotlight,” Martha Lamb/Wheeler started the complaints. “‘Strawberry Fields’ again from the sound of it.”

“Actually it’s ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’… to go along with the Osamu Sato stuff.” The chorus started.

“Ah yes, I see. Comes with Osamu? I mean, Okama? From Kangarootown? Golden Jim?”

“Yes,” answered Baker Bloch plainly.

“Okay, let’s see them all together now. Even the one I rejected. I’ve changed my mind.”

“There’s one more figure we need to fit in make it all work,” said Baker, who didn’t elaborate but perhaps didn’t need to. Linen. So close to Lennon as Okama is to Osamu. Shelley wasn’t actually singing anymore. Just channeling.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0042, 0406, Big Woods, Illinois, Jeogeot, LSD, South Carolina

00410302

She put away the guitars and got serious. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she practiced, not having an audience yet. It was only 5 in the afternoon and her gig wasn’t until 8. She’d have to eat first of course; make it a past participle before the actual playing began. At the same time, the audience should begin dining on sole food, that particular fish being the catch of the day here in Portuguese Hill village formerly of Illinois, US of A. Where they found *her*. “Ladies and gentleman, simmer down,” she continued imaging the applause coming her way after the song “Rockaway Beach,” a crowd favorite as usual. “I have an announcement to make.”

—–

“Your painting looks very pretty over there, dearest. I see you haven’t used any green yet. That’s good. Stay away from green. And oil. Stick to watercolors.”

“Of course my dear. Those times are in the past.” She apparently couldn’t see the bit of green he used in the couple of village trees from this distance — good. This made him think of Mr Babyface, his old flame. Lost at sea in a craft of too small design. At least he went doing what he loved. Sucked up by a rare water funnel in that area, they said. Glug glug glug, he imagined. Glug glug glug — GONE. The boat was later thrown up on the shore of Kenfield but the short man with the large face was no longer with it, fishing off the port side, fishing off the starboard side, fishing off the bow, the stern. He loved fishing in all its positions. He’d eat his sole later on in honor of him, he decided.

“Did you like my speech at the end? Too serious?”

Yeah, past and also present lover Greg Ogden had reservations about all that. “Don’t you, I mean, what if a member of the Portuguese navy is part of your audience? Gets back to headquarters, say. You could be in trouble (!).”

“I said what I had to say, though. Atlantis is rising in that part of the Azores. All the locals know it, the *government* knows it. They just want to cover it up, the hierarchy. The locals won’t stand up to them either, at least publicly. *Someone* has to take a stance. Might as well be me. I have a platform.” She briefly indicated the stage behind her. The former cover band cover girl now striking out on her own with strikingly original compositions popping forth right and left, backwards and forward. The announcement fits right in with all that, he realized. Unique, he summarized it in a word. Like a perfectly square pyramid perfectly aligned with the 4 cardinal directions, waiting to be revealed in all its past and also present glory.

“*And* — I think we should announce the news of our re-engagement if you don’t mind; make that public as well. Hand in hand.” She takes his hand from beneath the table, holds it tight. The double announcement was a go.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0041, 0302, Hana Lei^^, Illinois, Jeogeot, Middleton^, Xilted

lordy lordy lordy

“Nah, I think you boys have it backwards. Go back and check. Pull Ted in with you this time, John, since he has the better peepers. Go up the stairs or down the stairs or however you do it — together.”

“Down,” said John to this. “I always head down.”

“Well there you go.” And Al was finished with the story for now and waved them outta his palatial office. Tom showing up in 1/2 an hour, one the more uppity uppers. He had to prepare, emotionally as well as mentally. Brace himself for what is coming.

The truck that had turned lime green in the meantime arrived at the Dorr’s house in Tyrone, New Mexico just south of mural filled Silver City where it was rented day before yesterday’s last week by the Horns.

Finally united for a common cause, they cautiously made their way up to the azure blue front door, Horns of Hatton activated. They paused at the bushes; peered around the corner to see what Good they were up against. The portal opened creakily from the other side. They turned away just in the nick of time. They noticed one of the angels was sight challenged — in shadow — while the other with his big, lidless eyes definitely could see the truck if not them. They had made a huge mistake in driving it here.

“Dude,” read that one to the other in the doorway. “Not Dud. Al was right. It wasn’t the *past*. It’s the *future*.”

The Devil couldn’t get away with it this time. He’d have to exit Grant. He took depossession of the body. Grant was saved by the powers of the door. Of the Dorrs.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0209, Illinois, New Mexico, The Waste^^

Tyrone

No azure door here, Hucka, but a reflection of a door across the road, garage in that case. Interesting patterning.

And almost across the road from that: an anomaly. Doesn’t clear up using any angle of view.

Then looking the opposite direction: ladder boy, we’ll call him, someone who seems to have unusually short legs for his stature, the opposite of what a basketball player might possess. Illusion, as it turns out from other directions, but perhaps still meaningful given all else. His head overlaps the ladder’s bottom rung. Dressed in Azure. Are we suppose to climb further in order to find the true door? (no answer) Or are we suppose to look sideways from what we are doing? (no answer) Maybe some combo of Heaven and Hell we’re looking for, hmm.

Then in going to a handy realty site called redfin.com, we find the actual Azure Door for the house… and in digging deeper we find the residence is owned by a Door. Actually Dorr but close enough.

A personal business of some kind this was suppose to be, but no more info than that in my searchings.

Through the same site we can check out the place via drone video, taking it in from every angle like a 3d cubist painting. The blurred house in Google Streetview across the way turns out to be quite ordinary looking. Wonder why that occurred? We can guess: substitution.

As we keep flying around, we spot the Horns coming around the corner of Woo and Crab Wood and Chuck in their Real Life silver(-blue) truck rented in Silver City. Once again they’ve been expected.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0610, Google Street View, Illinois, New Mexico

00370102

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/East_Lynne

The novel was first staged as Edith, or The Earl’s Daughter in New York in 1861[1] and under its own name on 26 January 1863 in Brooklyn; by March of that year, “three competing versions were drawing crowds to New York theaters.”[4] The most successful version was written by Clifton W. Tayleur for actress Lucille WESTERN, who was paid $350 a night for her performance as Isabel Vane.[4] Western starred in East Lynne for the next 10 years.[4] At least nine adaptations were made in all, not including plays such as The Marriage Bells that “used a different title for the sake of some copyright protection.”[5]

As the more melodramatic aspects of the story became dated, there were several parodies and burlesques made, including East Lynne in Bugville with Pearl White (1914), Mack Sennet’s East Lynne with Variations (1917), and in 1931 the comedy East Lynne on the WESTERN Front in which British soldiers fighting in the World War I stage a burlesqued version of the story.[2]

“Westeasterners (open the book (1931))”:

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0102, collages 2d, Illinois, Louisiana, Missouri

00350611

It takes planning to go to Earth from Space, how to get in but also how to get out successfully. Reverse parachutes must be prepared.

Abs was monitoring the situation over in France for this. Fern Stalin and Lichen Roosevelt had come and gone, nothing detected with their inferior Star Team detectors, blah (he thinks). Apollo inferred through logical progression of Mercury into Gemini. Abs knew his old pal Virgil was involved at the top (as he liked to say). “Get him on the receiving end the old lemon sucker,” he requested, nay demanded to another underling named Alan, a variant astronaut of the solo kind. Virgil had a sense of humor about it now, since he knew selves were living all over the globe and being born and dying with regularity under different guises and under different circumstances, some long and drawn out departures, some (like his own) not so much. Extreme pain and no pain and all degrees between. Like Archie Reiner in Meat Town. We’ll get to his story soon (or not).

We decided to meet in an alley near the center of town. Virgil said he liked the view of the surrounding Alps here and planned to go skiing with his friends Ed and Roger afterwards. They hadn’t seen each other in a while, he said. Time to go past the pain of betrayal — start healing the wounds of this broken broken world, he declared to me, sincerity showing in his eyes, his facial expressions, his body posturing. Here was a man of integrity, ready to fight for a just cause. If justice involved making a pact with the Greys so be it. Abs himself wasn’t in line with the mainstream thinking of his kind. They were both rebels, hopefully with a cause. Together.

“Something about that Alley,” said Fern from afar, having dreamed about it since their visit. “I think we should go back; take the alien made detectors this time.”

Lichen was up for it. Just had to wrap up the horse subplot.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0611, France, Google Street View, Illinois

A way out (Back to Nautilus)

“I know this man!” says Martell Mandell out loud. She couldn’t help it. “Fieldon!” she tacked on, thinking about 300, thinking about a lot of other stuff. Like time and space shifts. She begins to prepare for telling her alien boss, Abbey Abdominator, about the discovery. “We *must* investigate,” he says back to her in a daydream. Hopefully her imagination turns out to be correct.

—–

“There! Told you!”

“Just because it’s a New Jersey substation of Nautilus and just because he likes to wear grey doesn’t mean he’s the same guy, Martell,” says Abs back to her upon seeing the “proving,” remotely taken photo in his mind. “I’m Grey. If I were standing in front of, say, a New Jersey welcome sign would you also think I was Harry, hmm? Besides, he denied he was Harry — said he was instead Jerry. I read the report you sent me. I’m not that detached from my position here at Star Team Interplanetary.”

—–

“If only Collagesity were still around,” she lamented while they looked at another photo she’d found in the Archive, hope waning.

“If only we could follow this probable route still up Highway 13 and down Highway 14 around and around…”

“Wizard,” says Abs to this. “Cube.” Her world turned inside out. And the Grey was the Man on top. Superior. *Not* a humbug.

“Look around, Martell. Where do you think you are? They are appearing all over the place. We have a way to go back *now*.”

“The… Void?” she answered, hallucinating the past. Shirley?

Still sharing her pictures, Abbey sensed a discrepancy between red-violet and yellow-green. These were not the same cubes. “No. Not The Void, Martell. I’ve changed my mind. We’ll go back to Nautilus… Jersey. But in that special way like we did before. And heading in backwards just for kicks.” Maybe that will solve the discrepancy I sense, he says to himself.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0610, Illinois, New Jersey, Omega^^, Southern

landmimes 02

Beyond the resourcefulness of its porcine citizens, there wasn’t much to recommend the small mining town of Rumpus Ridge. But even in such a hardscrabble place, they had created something they could be proud of: over the years they had collected the biggest ball of string in the world. Folks came from miles around to see it. But one night, a flood carries their prized string away and washes it ashore near the town of Cornwall. Rather than return it, the Cornwallians decide to keep the string for themselves.

https://foursquare.com/v/porters-sculpture-park/4cb6046256fca1cd653a5318/photos

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0514, Illinois, Maebaleia/Satori, Pipersville/Sink X^, South Dakota

00340316

“You’ve found the shower again, congratulations. It’s in the Oracle you know. Chicago.”

“I think you mean Illinois,” I replied. “As in: someone was bad and deserved to be spanked punished.”

“In the circle of the shower with the water on, all is good,” he replied confidently. The person sitting opposite of me. Triangle, I gather. Something about the stabbing of the duck obviously. I am now a resident. How did *that* happen?

“You are not dead,” I decided to say. “You were supposedly killed–”

“Look to the House on the Hill. All revolves around the House on the Hill. Just like before.” The apparition, so solid just a second ago, fades…

—–

She finally got out of the shower and put on some clothes, bound and determined to find the graffiti that would set her free.


“Scuse me, boys.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0316, Gold City, Illinois, Jeogeot

00290407

This is what she studies, Duncan, this *Rose* Wells. Boxes… cubes I suppose.

“Borneo?” He’d heard that name before. Something about corn.

—–

The blue sphere appears. Duncan disappears. Duncan saw too much in the field! Field “on”, and then he was there — in Reality — beyond the 300 or starting with the 300. Fieldon town limits.

The 2 blue spheres were 2 1/2 years apart, meaning that they were opposite each other — in the garden representing our solar system or an Earth limited one, with The Sun in the center (19). And what about The Observer there, watching from a table on the edge of the property? Fortress: Duncan was warned not to go back, and that maybe rats were there, perhaps similar to the ones within the tulips that make them move in oh so mysterious ways.

He was trying to mark the way (to the Fortress) with well placed toys. But they were not allowed here? White moves on beyond Black (Duncan) with Red, with Red obviously equaling Indian Wells now, both Asian and American at once. White Mage, in this scenario, is merely Hidi again.

“Primary Rabbit?” he asks, back at the home with the mannequins out front.

“Yesss?”

“I think… I’m ready to move beyond Black.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0407, Bellisaria, Blue Feather Sea^, Continent 02, Eveningwood, Hand Spring, Herman Park, Illinois, Maebaleia/Satori, Tile Creek, Yards Creek, Yards Mountain, Yaya Land