Category Archives: 0017

January 14, 2020 · 7:12 am

“Countdown”

A series of pictures inside.

But what Duncan found really curious was the seeming resonance with the 100 Story Building still present as of this writing over in the Kowloon sim, understood through notes supplied by his employer (PotD). Specifically Story/Room 87 and its own symbols of billiard balls: stools representing 8, 3, 2, and then also the 1, but with that particular seat covered by a laptop with a prominent XVideos sticker. We’ve talked about them before in this earlier post of this here photo-novel (17).

Note the visible stools 8, 3, and 2 add up to 13 again. Something is hidden or covered up in each case, the Great Deceiver in action.

Duncan, then, has a plan. He feels his time in The Waste is over, East-West loss exposed. Much like this particular version of Kowloon’s 100 story building has served its function and is scheduled to be demolished in a day or two or so. He will *sit* in that room, waiting for the end. Then dust himself off in the rubble after the 87 story fall and move on from there.

He decides to write a song about the experience to mark the time.

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January 14, 2020 · 6:31 am

roamings’ end

Duncan Avocado was wandering around the various stairs, tunnels, beaches of The Rot, thinking he’ll never be able to figure out The Waste. Huge! And dangerous.

While ruminating this, he spots what appears to be a face in the rocks at the top of a nearby, ruined tower. I’m not one to focus on seeing faces in random patterns (pareidolia), but I thought I would note this one, especially since it seems to represent a *particular* face to me. That of Richard Milhous Nixon, our 37th president who resigned in disgrace in 1973 and was known, through the infamous Watergate Scandal, for his trickery and deception. A nickname became Tricky Dicky.

I’ve highlighted the face a little through black outline to the right. He even appears to have a little horn sticking out of his forehead, marking him as the Great Deceiver. Compare with here (hint: Nixon’s conspicuous nose is, cartoon-like, exaggerated in the rocks):

In his new book One Man Against the World, Tim Weiner explores some of the questions surrounding the presidency of Richard Nixon, pictured above in the Oval Office on Feb. 19, 1970.

Duncan also thinks back to the 13 billiard ball he found fronting a Southern residence of The Great Fissure, just beyond its lip. Or I guess, since we’re talking about the South, we better call it the Great Fracture or face ramifications.

Note the horns again in the “hell’ sign above the horseshoe framed pool ball.

This could be the home of Fracture biased Jed Campton, then, but Duncan couldn’t tell. There was no one inside. Duncan had a hard time tracking anyone down in this sim, and considered himself lucky that there were weekly meetings of residents at the Last Drop where he could *eaves*drop on local gossip. The Gossipers they called them back in Jackson Bloch’s day. Before the erasure of East-West. He understood that part too, thanks to Gabriel’s dream.

(to be continued)

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January 13, 2020 · 8:56 am

report 04

We understand the mysterious cactus bud art depicted on this Northerner’s rock is actually Podge and Spleenburster, who we already know from the Monoflo Pinion book found in Hambone.

It’s the oldest story in the world. Two men bicker over territory only to resolve their differences via a nice, shared meal.

I include the whole story at the end of this report for context. Note that it’s the Great Fissure in the book, not the Great Fracture. Northern appellation, then.

According to Gabriel (again), an alternate text with just words and no pictures is titled “Olive Green Pink”, which he claims is about 10x as long, or about 200 pages he estimates. I am still looking for a copy. I assume it goes into much more detail about the lives of this ghoul and mutant, along with the smoothskin or cowboy, the Pink of the title obviously, as Olive is Podge and Green is Spleenbu(r)ster.

Another note: Gabriel is a channeller.

Here ’tis:

THE GHOUL & THE MUTANT

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January 12, 2020 · 10:33 am

the F word

I’m going to *search* out meaning in life while I have it. Like this Great Fracture or Fissure. What is it? Why do people live around it? Fractured — like this world, this estate. Why exist here?

—–

I’ve got to get out of here! thought Duncan Avocado while staring out from the Great Fracture or Fissure sim at the Spiral Jetty over in Hambone. Create some interactive land art; take some Real Life photos; something! Jackson Bloch did it. I can too!

But, no, his assignment tonight was to head down to the Last Drop at the west lip of the Fissure and interact with the locals; try to get some dirt on what’s going down. Besides lip rocks.

—–

“I dreamed last night,” began weight challenged Gabriel again, “that the Fissure was a great mouth, trying to tell us something. You know, that rock in the middle, that pillar, was the tongue.”

“We Camptons like to call it *Fracture*, reiterated Jed across from him for the hundredth time. It was a great debate: Fracture or Fissure. Another one of those split worlds, like we’ve seen with continental names Maebaelia or Satori. Another of those South-North separations, even. Because the South side of the Fissure, Camptons included, preferred Fracture, while the North side — Gabriel, et al. — preferred the obverse. One could *observe*, from above, the mouth speaking, true. Breaking away from Gabriel’s glare, Jed allowed him to continue his story, name problem set aside for the moment. “Alright,” he encouraged. “Go ahead.”

Duncan listened carefully from a nearby chair as the fourfold truth was told about the sim.

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January 11, 2020 · 9:24 am

island boy

“It’s been a year since I lost Irma, Percy,” spoke Ji-San over to the curious elk. “It’s time to, well, move on.” He puts his hand over his mouth to cough.

“Rosehaven is (throat clear) *perfect* — I’ll go ahead and say the name if no one else will — but I’m not ready to settle down anywhere right now. Like that dude in Big Fish, you know, the one who went to that place with all the white people and said to them the same thing (ahem). Then he went into the forest and realized Bach is dead. Except it wasn’t Bach, hmmm (ah-herm).” He looked over at the elk again to reorient himself. Percy dutifully peered up from his munchings, meeting him eye to eye. Vegetation was simply tastier here on Crow Island. The End of Time people put a lot of work into this particular area of the Crow sim, one of 7 in the estate archipelago. Percy had no desire to move far from this spot. This was his home. But could it be — no, Ji-San must put that out of his mind. He’s a roamer. He can find home when he’s dead and buried in a grave. Irma, he thought, I’ll be back with you soon enough. Big Fish caught.

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January 11, 2020 · 8:17 am

happiness

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January 11, 2020 · 7:03 am

blooms

A miracle, thought Herbert Gold, looking on. I was just dreaming about this fenced-in place yesterday and no flowers. Yet spring is still far far away. I will mark this spot in my mind.

He takes second psychological photo and moves on.

Past the Petunia Trail toward his old home.

—–

“Snow or sand?” queries wife April Mae by his side, trying to snap him out of it. No more meeting makers and dying! she vowed day before Friday of last week’s Wednesday. He rubbed his non-platinum head, sat up. “Snow,” he responded, looking around as if trying to gauge the place he’s in. Seeing his color return, April Mae breathed a sigh of relief.

—–

“I was looking for — home,” he explained more later at the breakfast table. “But the bridge — the middle of the bridge…” Stopped him? he then thought. He still didn’t know where he was.

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January 10, 2020 · 7:44 am

other returns

“If you take away the Fire Tree it all begins to make sense. We can peer back into a time when the deserted village was full of life and living. The days before Tully. The wonder years.”

“Was that before the mist or after?” Parasol asked, trying to be patient with Ingo’s historic ramblings. She had a meeting with Herbert Glenn Gold at quarter past 10. Yeah, she was pissed at him (hence the full name again).

“Before of course.”

She glanced out the window at the Fire Tree she couldn’t quite see from this angle. She couldn’t wait any longer. Time to *see* Herbert.

—–

“I was wondering where we would meet,” spoke up Herbert. Wonder again, thought Parasol. It was here she realized Ingo was right about the Fire Tree, the village. All of it.

She jumped right into it. No time for niceties tonight. “I want you to *get* her here. I want to trap her like a fly in a bottle.”

“Erm.” He shivered as her feet dangled menacingly above him. As he stood on one. “*Who* are we talking about here?”

“You know who.”

—–

George V. Norris, barely 2 feet tall, prepared to play the harp in his wee abode. “A Bach tune will do tonight,” he squeaked to himself, then reconsidered. “Or is it Buch.”

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January 10, 2020 · 6:33 am

the return of Purple (and) Bear

“One of us is going to kill the other one, you know.”

“I know. (pause) I hope it’s you.” Communication bleeps from the opposite side of the room. They both stare over.

“The Oracle says it’s time for me to ride your back over to the island, Mr. Purple.”

He puts away the knife. For now. “Hop on.”

—–

“Faster. Faster!”

—–

By the time he reached the island, Purple (and) Bear had become one again. He stares over at his old house. The one stolen from him by Rules of Rose.

(to be continued?)

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January 9, 2020 · 9:05 am

Serenity again

He was just a kooky old Japanese guy on permanent vacation. But at least he brought his slippers to Rose-, er, this *place*, unlike fellow vacationer Donald Farr before him earlier this winter. He’d heard the robot play the 2 “Gouldberg Variations” in a row, a realm favorite thanks to Merry. Bookends they were, and belonged together as one. Now he was ready for Zoidboro’s sermon at the Church of the Fly Lord behind him here. Perhaps he’d meet Peter today. Parasol said he would like him. Another old dude. And spoke a bit of Japanese, even.

—–

“The world is a windshield,” Zoidboro preached through tentacle covered mouth, “waiting to take you out when you least suspect it. Take Little Timmy Flick last week over on Highway 52 behind the old Tastee Freeze. Take Thomas the Elder this past Tuesday before the last Wednesday after Monday’s Friday at the Yoko Ona Parody Museum, in the parking lot even. Yea, parking lots can be dangerous too. Central parking lots especially. To get to a Square, you must always Times something….”

Ji-San turned to the man sitting next to him and spoke low beneath the sermon. “Are you per chance Peter?”

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