Runaway Ronnies’s gotta keep reversing her tracks to see what went wrong.
The cut that runs deep. Bleeding. But that wasn’t quite it. Keep reversing Ronnie!
Ahh, a note. Similar to the one you wrote your abusive parents before.
A fallen King.
Well. I think there may be a way to erase this cycle of pain for good. Don’t you?
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0209, New York
She perused a photography book about New York while listening to Liza Minnelli’s “New York, New York” on the victrola. What was it about this double trouble big city that attracted her attention so these days? Was it her mother’s Douglas also known as Albert? A creation’s creation, she thinks, just to see what would happen. A star guitarist in both a rock and classical sense, culminating with a *little* gig, he he, on the circumference of the yin-yang symbol formed by Black Lake and White Lake known as Woodstock. *Also* in New York. Along with a convoluted tangle of interstates in Rochester called the Can of Worms, like Yoko Ono told Paul McCartney would be opened if she let him reverse the names Lennon-McCartney on even one Beatles recording. He requested this for perhaps his signature track “Yesterday”. She, being Lennon’s widow and thus 1/2 responsible for the decision, refused. Bad blood ensued, or badder blood. When his wife Linda McCartney died in ’98 she wasn’t invited to the New York City wake. New York again. It keeps cropping up.
City of Lights indeed. Unless it’s Paris.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0208, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, New York, Vortexville
“We can’t go back to Holland again?” he questions, staring at the newest image on the screen.
“Oh Eddy, we can’t even get to the top of Mt. Sandraman without being distracted, much less another place in another world. Be here in the here and now. Be Free.”
“Let’s go!” he urged. But he stood still.
—–
“Oh look, the image is changing into something else we know. Wallytown. On (nearby) Fishers Island. Remember?”
“Of course I remember,” responded Shelley, still standing behind him in her finest cashmere bathrobe, still waiting on a decision. Where to go, where to go? Somewhere away from *here*. Or at least go to that hill that likes to call itself a mountain *within* here, pheh. She tires of being chained as an object. 6 6 6 is over. It’s now 7. Freedom.
But they stood still.
—–
Too late, Eddy. Too late. The dream Spider has arrived.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0201, Europe, Holland, New Island, Wallytown/Fishers Island
“The 420 folder is getting too full, baker b.”
“Hucka!”
“In the exoskeleton!”
“The Atom is part of the CHRO system, which is pronounced like Crow,” she begins. “Someone had to exhibit at the Red Arrow for all this to surface again. And then there’s the ROCKSTAR direction — always the ROCKSTAR direction now.” She paused to wipe some pollen from her mouth. Hucka D. Was he even a she now?? “You went back to Red Row, found nada. Not even the bird-dog conjunction. Something had shifted. Something had, indeed, been removed.”
“The dog.”
“Actually the bird but we can assume that means the dog. As in, the dog was never highlighted (by the bird) in the first place. Nothing to be removed. No Spider.” She paused. “You’ll figure it out,” she reassured, a seemingly innocuous statement that surprisingly irritated me.
“Can I see you? Can I see where we are?”
“The maps rise up to meet you,” she then stated.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0113, New York, Tennessee
“Why are you back, Arthur?” she says after he sits down. “Is it to see the dog? We’ve been through this before. You’ve seen me feed the numbers into the computer to produce the Red Row. And then The Atom, and an (op art) example of what you can do with it. There’s nothing more to see here. Nada.” She had another client coming in at 11:45. It was 11:30. He said he’d show up at 11 to talk to her about something. He was late.
“I want to go back,” he just blurted out, knowing time was short. “I want to go to… Red Row.” He figured there was something more to it. Too many rows named red for one. A 2 fer 1 (!).
“The only thing you’ll see there is proof that nothing is left. The dog is ours.”
“So I can’t even see it now?” He wanted to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. But of course he had his money, extra feathering for his retirement nest. *Something* had been exchanged.
“No,” she put it bluntly. “Not until the reopening.”
The numbers laden dog remained hidden behind the secret bookcase door, a 6×4 mathematical puzzle-lesson with 20 positive results along with 4 negative outcomes at its center core. Just taken by itself.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0112, Cable Isle, Jeogeot, Tennessee, Towerboro
“The Atom is not just another pretty op art picture,” she said, manipulating and expanding the pattern until the above image was produced. “It represents a CONTRACT signed between you and the Universe (almost wrote *University* there (!)) to go out in the World and do and preach GOOD. If you can’t do this then someone else will. In fact, they already have.”
https://theredarrowgallery.com/show/red-arrow-brianna-bass-ex-nihilo
“Will you let it go?” she continued. “Or will you reclaim what is rightfully yours? Both can be true, you know. You and this other person are not the same. The child of the best friend of the sister of you and your wife’s best friend. Small world, huh?”
“Indeed (!)”
A character, I realized. I have to create a Classical God-Star. TILE must be involved again. And orange and violet, ERR, amber and magenta.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0109, C2077, Cable Isle, J-Town, Jeogeot, Tennessee, Towerboro
Roberts takes the magical Chihuahua from my arms, removes the hover text style numbers from its head and feeds them into the computer through an input mechanism I can’t quite understand or explain. “Good good,” says the private investigator who also doubles as my lawyer while watching the monitor. “The Red Row is forming again… see?”
I see this in front of me: one red square appears to the upper left, then another directly to the right of it then another to the right of it then another to the right of it until the sequence numbers 13. But the 13th, she explains, is the same as the 1 again.
“What next?” she asks. I tell her I don’t know. “Zero,” she persists. “The interval is zero now,” she prompts. “What’s next?”
“Um… one?” I guess without much conviction.
“Yes!” And with the press of a key, a second row forms in a similar manner directly below the first. All the colors are different now except for the 1st square and the last square again. Beginning at the left we have red once more, then red-orange, orange, yellow-orange, yellow, yellow-green, green, blue-green, blue, blue-violet, violet, red-violet and then red to end. These were her words for the gradiated colors as she explains what happened.
Then she asks again: “What next?”
“Oh geez, I don’t know. I suppose: two?”
“Right-o!” Same kind of row forms immediately below the first two when another key is pressed. Colors now: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, and then — repeating the pattern beginning with the 7th square — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, to end with red again.
“What next?” she then asks. I think I was getting the hang of this.
Eventual what was produced was this, which promptly went into Barry de Boy’s “Does This Look Square to You?” series at the end. Roberts called it “The Atom.” “This is where everything starts,” she said about it. “Can you see?”
“Here, back up a bit,” she suggests. “Squint your eyes,” she said after I still had trouble getting it.
I saw.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0108, Cable Isle, Jeogeot, Mississippi, Towerboro
Pretty sure it starts with an Arrow somewhere in or near Nashville, Tennessee. Pointing directly to Red Row 1 mile north. Let’s zoom in (again!).
—–
It wasn’t a *spider* in Red Row I was looking for, despite these 8 shoes found on some hick house stairs. Red Row? Red *Herring* (!). No, it was a *dog* named Spider (thanks 4th human within with the remaining 2 feet, *POP*). Found just down the road — or row — being attacked by a bird. Bird dog, then? Chihuahua, I discovered.
“Get away from my dog, bird!” I called from the ’57 Chevy Kenny was driving. “*My* spider dog! *MY* SPIDER DOG, SHOOOOO!!” *POP*
Better.
I kill my now disposable chauffeur with my final bullet (*POP*) and take the wheel, leaving room for the dog in the vacated passenger seat, body dumped in some bushes at this conjunction of Red Row…
… and, er, Red Row?
Anyway, I stick Kenny’s body into the bushes better and head back to the lawyer’s office with the dog to collect my hard earned reward.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0107, Cable Isle, Google Street View, Jeogeot, Tennessee, Towerboro
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
Guyd had smelled it for a while with her more sensitive nose even though Rebl hadn’t heard anything with her sharper ears because of the masking water portal sounds, Benny Right Horn’s plan all along. The same smell as with the dog-man before on the tracks. He was off the tracks… and close! They dare not move from their secret room in the caves. The Mother Ship had been alerted to the danger. Should be arriving in, let’s see, 3 weeks. 3 weeks! Not enough time! It will be the end of time literally for them now, they feared, they knew!
Then Rebl heard. Not a horrible thing on the radio this time like w/ the bombing of New York in photo-novel 17 but from beyond one of the two rock walls that protected this room, left and not right. But what’s direction in a cave system like this? So let’s call it right…
… as in Benny Right Horn. Right outside after learning of the secret passage from Windsong Fairy, left bleeding out in the portal stream after a scream — that Rebl picked up on. Attracted by the guitar of course, which Benny played splendidly this morning after warming up quietly all night. She had to show up. She had to proposition again. Like with Douglas (successful), like with Carolin (not successful but she’s still working on it — *was* working on it). Benny knew she couldn’t resist. He’d get the information out of her just like he did with Big Ass Franz down at the bar. Both dead, it seems. Benny had to make sure Franz didn’t contact the cat-people to warn them. Same with Windsong Fairy — couldn’t take a chance. And here he was. And there they were: trapped. Does this particular photo-novel have a happy ending? Or a tragic one? Only several more posts to find out!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0614, End of Time+, New York
Sunklands 