Category Archives: 0030

November 21, 2021 · 5:24 pm

Threesun

“Well take a picture, silly. I can’t hold this posture forever.” SNAP

Outside: Ghost. *Ghost* of a ghost, so doubly so.

Whose picks led me to this:

“What do you say, dear? The rooms are real cheap and we get to explore fabulous John Fitzgerald Kennedy City this way. We’re right in the middle (!).”

“Okay, darling. But then we must get back to Collagesity and see what’s left of it. Strange about the doubling of the Falmouth name in these locations.”

“Yes. More reason to stay here.”

He recrosses his legs. “I suppose.”

“We can make… a honeymoon of it.”

Axis-Windmill doesn’t say anything to this. He’s not ready to commit to such a pact, or even admit they are married to each other as husband and wife. Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. Let’s play it loosey goosey, he thinks. Besides, he’s Baker Bloch for the moment, and the male Baker doesn’t marry anyone “beneath” him in the photo-novels, which is everyone else, even his female counterpart Baker Blinker, traditional blog spiritual guide Hucka Doobie, and the rest of the cores. If he could just shift over to another particular core… he shifts in his seat with this thought. He has the urge to get up and dance. “Any music around here?” finally came a response, which made Alysha Raspberry huff and recross her own legs. She knows Falmouth Gallery in Collagesity won’t be any better. *But* (she considers again), they could stay in Danny’s trailer. If he’s truly gone. One Falmouth at a time, though.

“Oh dear. Is that our *porter*?”

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November 21, 2021 · 8:16 am

Shakespear

3:17 START:

He’d met her on one the outer islands of the continent, Pieve I believe. They started out thick and fast with an Adam and Eve kind of situation, like John and Yoko. He was with her everywhere, even the doctor’s office. But as time went by everything slowed. She said her legs were too long and got an operation, but that just made her a 9 instead of a 10. She had to reverse it; he footed the bill since it was his choice to shorten them in the first place. It was his choice for everything, but not because he was a misogynist. It’s because he created her, from his rib as it were. He was her. Madam I’m Adam. So the rumors about the woman of the night, the whore of Babylon and stuff like that. Lunacy — people will believe anything these days. People believe God incarnated on Earth without a motherly womb. That’s cutting out half the equation, removing black from white, dark from light. There *is* no dark without light. 3.16: that was *her*. She lived in new-ish and still-being-constructed Squared Root City and he with her. Because of the Being One thing. She doesn’t exist without him. But is it also Romeo and Juliet? What else is in Florida that I need to consider? Whitehead, obviously. Since he has white hair and it doesn’t work any other way, unless it’s black. She? Red. Let me check…

Interesting that we’ve moved from (considering) Alaska to Florida, as far across the country as you can get. And also: extreme cold to extreme warmth. It was a coastal situation through and through now. But Squared Root City was in the hills between the coasts, between Highways 13 and 14; M  and N. Maybe this was a new Mystenopolis developing, he pondered, and then marveled at the possibility. Jesus H. Christ is involved again after all. He must also think about the (Pagan) Faun, the 2 doppleganger houses next to each. Black and white — revolving around each other. No, that’s the right solution. Not black *versus* white. They are one. We are one.

And the Princess of the Diagonal? A boss. He had a job to do and he was doing it pretty well. He still had access to past records of the Oracle, even though it presently was broken and seemed irreparable in its damage. The boss was away a lot. His research kind of mirrored hers. But what of the white hair? That had to do with the Declaration (of Independence). March 1: not far away atall. He will soon be the (fabled) Whitehead of the Woods. It’s projected to coincide with the end of photo-novel 31. Strange, eh?

He gets rid of the illusion.

“There you are.”

“Hi.”

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November 21, 2021 · 7:28 am

3.16

Didn’t work.

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November 20, 2021 · 9:03 am

00300215

Brend woke up, having fallen asleep while reading the book about dreams. The Princess of the Diagonal’s portrait loomed above him. He looked around. Nowhere in sight. Probably out exploring leads while the day people are safely tucked in bed, some having drawn the covers over their head. It was getting cold in the Nautilus highlands. Soon the frost would move down into the coast here. Time to go buy a jacket, he contemplates, maybe a tweed one. He probably has the place to himself for a while, perhaps the rest of the night. Good time to get some work done himself.

—–

He contemplates the square before him while drinking molten silver, as they call the spiked coffee drink round these parts. He thinks of a joke here: “Do you know where the Nome King lives?” “I don’t know. Al-as-ka round.” A variation involves Anchorage, and, rarer, Douglas Fairbanks. Back to the map.

—–

“It probably all starts in Alaska don’t you think?” offers W. from the side. “Northernmost — the cold moves south; down. Parameters established — upper limit. John Fitzgerald Kennedy City,” she then utters, looking me straight in the eye.

—–

We start, of course, with the Diagonal, he thinks while studying. A lot of people enter that way; exit through Borneo. Like Marion Star Harding and his plane that turned endless instead of finite. He wore his inflammable suit which means it didn’t catch on fire which means he didn’t die. The Princess of the Diagonal is a bonafide expert on planes. She created this airport. She created Airton Hill itself, aligned it with Mount Ayr up in the through the (common) air.

—–

“You are going far,” W. encouraged. “You will get there tonight.”

—–

He drew back. He took another sip of the spiked beverage. He’d lost Iowa. He recalls the old days, when a seed was planted just east of Des Moines. JFK took a bullet for it. What would *he* sacrifice?

(to be continued)

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November 19, 2021 · 9:09 am

silver and gold

It had advanced beyond black and white. This was an all read situation, book in her eyes. Jennifer Lane I suppose. She wore a raspberry beret but this wasn’t her first time. She was indeed an experienced woman of the night but not quite that way. It’s complicated, more than you can perhaps imagine. Call it, just like these here photo-novels, 30 in a series of nothing: an experiment in complexity. Coral-like it keeps growing. We’re back on Nautilus, link to the outside world broken, perhaps beyond repair. The Oracle, the connection, has been damaged in at least 2 ways, rendering it practically useless for time-space transport. Borneo remains a past-future barrier. A box. But what are the contents?

We have come so far, all the way to the edge. We peer inside, waiting to see the bottom writing, like looking through stacks of translucent paper. Reality.

(to be continued)

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November 19, 2021 · 8:05 am

root of the problem

He found her in a town full of bigots and zombies on the other side of the wall, a mere apple’s toss from where he was before. Annaball or Annabell, the pretty, white, raspberry beret wearing woman of the night who was dating that [black guy] who just broke into town one day, stole all its dignity. She had ambitions, she did. The hooker aspect was just to tide her over until her *real* dreams kicked in. Plus she really wasn’t a hooker; they just hung that tag on her back because of the incident in the alley and it stuck. A lot of things get stuck in this town of 9 that can’t quite reach 10, however hard it might try at times (try 3.16 instead of 3). “And to think she use to teach our children!” exclaimed one when learning about the alley. “Abhorrent,” hissed the other sitting across from the first, still below the TILE colored lights where green mysteriously switches with yellow at times, another round and round situation. If only the carousel could stop. We have to get off.

“‘Nautilus,’ she said to me (he relayed later on to the proper authorities). ‘I have to get back to Nautilus.'”

“And you just let her *go*?”

“I didn’t… have any choice.”

“Dot dot dot,” the authority figure chided. “It’s always dot dot dot for you lot. You’re as bad as her,” he finalized, spiked helmet secured on zombie head with a dead leather strap. Or so they say.

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November 19, 2021 · 6:33 am

this town (no breakthrough)

Stuck on a mountain, Norris waits for the train to stop and pick him up. Problem is, he himself is the train, the trees, the mountain. This is plainly displayed for others to see.

Duncan Avocado confidently enters the store, noting the colored writing on the wall. Safe zone here.

He spies what he wants on the top shelf. “I’ll take, let’s see, the policeman, the fireman, and that, um, Star Trek military robot I believe, Rootitooti or something.” He wanted to own them all, practically the entire public safety force.

“5 bucks,” she said so softly he asked her to repeat the price, which she did even fainter. He never got the cost; the train kept spinning and spinning round the small granite summit like a carousel.

One day…

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November 18, 2021 · 9:10 am

00300211

The principal seemed to take a shining to Dimmy Gene but in truth he just wanted an excuse to hang around Marilyn more. She had that effect on men, made them do bad and irresponsible things. Like letting Dimmy use his expensive computer for his supposed homework. “I know you like souped up things,” he said to the dim witted man-boy after his sex history lecture at the main auditorium below the Pear Room. People need to know how their sex is chosen and make wise decisions about it, he offered to school district superintendent Jonathan Petri Dish one day in early May. He thinks back to his own childhood. Not even a week old and they decided he would be a boy. All the aunts and uncles hadn’t weighed in yet. Cousins usually got a vote too. But, no, his old man, his old pops couldn’t wait. So while his mother Doris was busy reading her fashion and furniture magazines one day, engrossed in the moment, his father decided for all of them, each and every one. He was still king of his domain, he rationalized, not knowing there were other pieces on the chessboard of life that made it all work in unified peace and harmony. It took Doris several weeks but she finally realized. She’d been focusing on the navel and feeding the blasted thing day and night before then, navels being common to us all, whatever sex. The milk had to be *just* the right temperature else the navel rejected and they’d be up all night again. But one day, while he gurgled out more white on his blue bib, she understood. There was a hair on his upper lip, a single hair but one is enough to know. 3 weeks later they had to start shaving him as well. Oh for the old days, when sex was determined in the womb, way before birth. Now there were so many choices — well, two. But two very important options I think we all would agree.

Where was I… oh yes, Dimmy and the principal’s souped up computer, just like he had a souped up car now and drove all over his new town with Marilyn normally by his side. She’s normally with Gene they all agreed, which in time — but not too much time — was shortened to Normal Gene and finally Norma. Because they had gotten married and she’d acquired her first diamond ring on her left hand, which, since it was pretty small in comparison to the rest on her right, she wore on her pinkie, and joked all the time about having Dimmy wrapped around her little finger, usually to a gusto of laughs from a crowd of admirers. People, well, men, flocked to her everywhere. She grew tired of it. “Dimmy,” she requested one day in late May. “Drive me out to the country. Go fast enough where my hair will be billowing in the wind at a 1000 miles an hour. Go fast enough that it will *never* return to its normal, lackluster appearance. I want to be billowy… *forever*.” And she had her wish.

(to be continued?)

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November 17, 2021 · 3:00 pm

sucker

Because of his exploits and otherwise poor grades, Daffy and his wife Dandelonia decided to send Dimmy Gene to a private school up in Nautilus, but trouble followed him everywhere. “Marilyn?” he questioned unbelievably, resisting the urge to scrub his eyes with balled up hands to see if he was hallucinating an old flame just left back in his Jeogeot German hometown.

“One of ’em (!),” came the happy reply by the blonde bartender, just starting her shift at the Princess Club. “Buy me a diamond and we’ll talk about it.” She held out her hand seductively. There was a ring for every finger, including the thumb which held the largest and also the most uniquely shaped. “General named Tom bought me that one,” she said, knowing where his eye lingered. She was an expert at that. “Thimble Diamond, biggest in all of Nautilus continent.” She moved it toward him more. It crossed his mind to grab her hand, pull off the big diamond, and make a run for it. But he knew he couldn’t get far what with all the bodyguards he’d seen around. He held it instead, kissed the ring, and acquiesced to utter power.

Dimmy later described one of the main features of the Princess Castle where the school was as a runaway to his old pops, but he’d inserted one too many vowels into the word. After her shifts at the bar, Marilyn was also often seen there with more lingering eyes. She had ambitions in this world. She’d sell her diamonds one day after she collected 5 more for the other hand, and move to Argentina and run a house of ill repute with all the attached glamour and prestige. She even had a name for the dream place already: Marilyn’s Munsters, with all the girls dressed up like ghouls and goblins; a novelty attraction. She knew it would be a hit and become her legacy. She had it all planned out. Until Dimmy hit town.

The school also provided him with a loaner car. Daffy had spared no expense to make sure his son got ahead in life. “Got anything faster?” he said to Sam Petty the car loaner agent, his eyes pulled away by the glitzier ones. He settled on the most glittery, kissing another, more bony hand. Marilyn was with him at the end.

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November 16, 2021 · 8:39 am

blown up

She lay on an inflatable slice of pizza in what was once the Monkey City sewer system, staring at her remnant home in the area. She should go with the rest of the characters back to Maebaleia, pull up stakes here on this Nautilus continent. She knew that. She’d been banned from basically half the old Monkey City sim already (!). But more was at stakes. Not vampires (she reads my mind), but something else. Not sand castles and the ability to blow up from small to really tall, although that will play a role later.


“I *see* you in there.”

Her energy had run low from the paddling, thus the “reversion” to witch form. She remembers — Paper Soap. The pizza “squeaks” unpleasantly as she shifts her weight on it with the thought. But she has her revenge.

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