Category Archives: 0038

June 15, 2023 · 1:27 am

Jasper control

“Edward on the left, Arthur to the right. My two boys.”

“Yes, they’re very nice,” said Thomasina, staring down at them. “But… these are 2 boats, Jennifer. The same boat, in fact, by the looks of it. Just doubled up.” Thomasina wondered if she purchased them from the same place but didn’t ask this.

“Yes. My two boys.” Jennifer started to look confused. Why didn’t Thomasina understand this? 2 boats, 2 boys. What could be simpler? Takes two to know after all, she thought. Everyone knows that, every single person in the world knows that.

“Let’s begin again,” Thomasina decides while putting down the photo and re-scanning her notes on the table. She pounded her bat softly into her now empty left hand while she did, thinking mode on. Shortly: “You were born November 2021.”

“Yes. About.” She knew the exact date but didn’t like to show off her eidetic memory. Best to hide certain things from the world. She’s starting to rethink the whole Edward-Arthur reveal. And what is this batty outfit Thomasina is wearing? What did it mean? The obvious?

“You *were* Jenny Lane and then you grew all up, became weedy but not in that way.”

“Dabbled in some pot back in the days, yes. Plants were there so I took the opportunity.” Last time: July 10th 2007, she knew but didn’t say.

“Let’s not worry about the far past right now,” said Thomasina, sitting up and looking into her eyes again. “Let’s set some rules, or reinforce some rules. In the *present*.” She had several others in line at the gate already. Grammy was done (SODA addict — cured with a coke can filled instead with rancid urine) but more came. Guard Tank or Bazooka Ferguson had his hands full. Thank Gods for Steven, a needed distraction. But troubadour songs only go so far. “You tried Rank, now stick to File. Like here. NOd if you understand.”

Jennifer nodded. As long as her 2 boys were with her she’d make due. She could write her novels, she could live her lives.  She would escape the column *sometime*. Thomasina seemed to read her mind here — probably was.

“As long as Constantynople is a thing, you must abide by this rule. Try the up and down, *stay* in the up and down. Not even right and left any longer — that’s gone.

Jennifer thought of the overnight disappearance of Nightsity. Fantasyland was still there, though, in Bionaz Gulch. She asked about it. And also Dottieback, the many individual locations there. After all, these were directly east and west of Constantynople.

“That was for the last photo-novel,” replied Thomasina to this. “You might have missed your opportunity. You are going very fast with your writing but maybe not fast enough. If you’d just… stick to the plan.”

—–

So Thomasina changed forms and took her to Kenosha, the top of it all, the eye of the pyramid. Her extra pair of eyes rolled heavenward to reinforce the deal. “Gotta get back,” she said. “I’ll leave you here to start.”

—–

10:01 AM. But she stared anyway.

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June 13, 2023 · 5:13 pm

00380610

They switched horns with each other, Ben with Jerry, becoming Benny and Jer again. Jer gets up after the transformation, says he has to check on his bars, even the Zero, even the Nine. Beyond the visible compendium. Larry would not be happy. Or Lawrence.

—–

The scene is set. The return of Thomasina Boyy.

—–

“You’re nervous aren’t you?” the old woman beside me on the waiting bench spoke. “Why don’t you feed the pigeons to take your mind off your worries. Steven will be back soon.”

I checked but no animation in the bench that would allow such. And laying on her lap, another one of the few options, seemed inappropriate, although I *was* sleepy. The end must be near. Yes, down there, unseen to me in the moment. Because she was me.

I thought of the visible compendium again, the 1 through 8. Jer, left horn in place again, becomes the owner of bars, Kedas and others. He wanted me to don the Crazy Blue and perform the cancan, old fashion style. How dare he (!). I’d slap him if he were here beside me instead of this old woman. I wanted to get a name. So I decided to bring up the lack of that animation she spoke about.

“You call me Grammy,” I finally got out of her. I recall her from the Newt pharmacy, striking provocative pose after provocative pose for the apothecary in an attempt to get SODA. Most likely why she’s here, and it turns out one in particular did the trick. Call it her cancan moment.

—–

His break over, Steven returned to playing the guitar across from us, entertainment and also a needed distraction. The policeman guarding the gate to the inner sanctum, Tank I believe, mysteriously clapped in slow motion to the beat, about 1 per every 4 to 5 measures, I reckoned. It’d been 1/2 an hour already, maybe, yes, 45 minutes (as I checked my watch). Ten till 2 now. At least the meeting didn’t take place in the cursed fairy blue light of middle late morning. Else I might be doomed, designated for Hell and Devil alike. Hellville. Joining the Hills, or at least Grant. But Mike is trying to save them by roping my parents into the story, of all people. “Lemon!” he said earlier, stuffing that one in Mama Wheeler’s mouth. “Lime!” he then said, doing the same with Daddy Newt (named for the sim and not visa versa). “Speak!!!” he then shrilled after telling his own tale, but the fruits were still in their mouths. He removed them, causing the cascade of words we talked about before which still didn’t satisfy him. Guess what he uttered next.

(to be continued)

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June 13, 2023 · 4:41 pm

without objects, he points

https://idyllopuspress.com/idyllopus/film/tpr12.htm

(59-81 approx) BEN: Richard, my grandson, killed that little boy.
BEVERLY: I am so sorry.
BEN: Richard never had a father. I remember, I remember riding…my father got me this old Schwinn…secondhand. He painted it green, got a new seat for it. Two-tone green, kind of a lime green and a deep forest green. Fat tires. Oh, it was so hard to ride. But I loved that bike. I loved that bike. I’d ride with my friends. Call the hospital. I want you to arrange to pay for all of Miriam…I don’t even remember her last name but they’ll know who she is…all of Miriam’s medical expenses. Richard assaulted her. She needs an operation. Beverly, please take care of this right away.
BEVERLY: Of course. I’ll do it right now.
BEN: I loved that bike. I loved that bike…that my father got for me.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0609, Lunch, David, Nascera^^, Twin Peaks, Washington

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June 13, 2023 · 9:56 am

investigators

“Perfectly round,” spoke the first.

“Perfect triangle,” uttered the second.

“Perfectly… hold on,” said the third closer to the center of it all. “What’s this?”

“Nauty,” spoke the just appearing pincushion voodoo doll to Square and the rest, pins in place just there there and there. “I come from Jasper. Jasper Falls to be concise.” Knowing of their needs, he took them there.

—–

“This is where I live,” he said to Triangle who had absorbed the other two for the moment. Just to simplify things and reduce lag. “These are my roommates Jennifer Lane and Biff Carter. Keith B., the third, is out traveling again. 3 — just like you guys.” He takes a gander at Triangle’s singular face. “I mean — *normally*. But we here are like that too,” he explains. “There is really no one here but me. I live alone. And yet these are my mates. Playmates more than roommates. You’d get along with Biff especially. He’s an investigator. Like you.”

Triangle let Square have a turn to look over at Biff, study his figure. Then Circle did the same with Jennifer. “Perfect,” said the third for all, and leaned back and turned triangular once more, satisfied with the sights. He thought of the end.

He laid down to sleep as host Nauty comforted him the best he could. A lullaby about shapes I believe.

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June 13, 2023 · 8:23 am

00380607

“4 of 5 letters the same at the top. And crooked again, just like with the graffiti in, what was it, Hypolazy?”

“Hypoluxo,” she answered. “Hypoluxo, Florida. The randonaut’s intent was to find a remote place. Graffiti artists generally work in remote places, thus proving the synchronicity right there. The coordinates he summoned fulfilled his desire.”

“Cool. But the glyph — even the J fits in here, since the only other letter in it that tilts the exact same way is R. Switch out similarly turning J and and one of the 2 Rs, your choice, and you have the same 5 letters: KRMNL again. L for the R now to finish, if we assume it all rotates around and ending can loop back to beginning.”

“Truth,” she said. “This glyph is very important. TILE.”

“Of course,” I returned. “Same four colors, same (sub-) letters in the colors. Just in terms of KRMNL, the adjusted top row, MNR are blue and KL are green.”

“Nice.” Exhale. “Now what about the straight letters? HYCTY?” I didn’t have an answer.

—–

Interpreting Hucka Doobie (thanks Hucka!) later indicated that the J can be switched with the R of the same column — JASPR — simply by shifting the whole thing down one letter, assuming an infinite repeat of the 5×5 glyph in all directions again. This discussion naturally led back to Nautilus. Through Naughtilus, oddly enough, catty-corner to the Piccolo sim which the owner of Jasper Falls in the pivotal sim of Jasper featured in the next post calls his actual home. We teleport an investigating team down.

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June 12, 2023 · 5:06 pm

5×5 01 again

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June 12, 2023 · 3:13 pm

orange to orangeade

She’d finished washing her hands and had rejoined Edward and Arthur in the living room. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with her, boys,” they heard her say from the kitchen, knowing Dukie was still involved. Unseen. Sitting at the small table Shelley and Arthur or perhaps Shelley and Edward would dine at later. Or earlier. She had to choose, they knew: real or fiction? They, Al and John the Mind Reader sitting around that table for now, talked about the past, the *waste* of it all. Glad to be outta that hellish hole at least for a while. Hot as rot there. They came out to talk about TILE. In a slice of time so orange that everyone had forgotten it existed. All Orange, then.

“Well,” said resigned John to his boss across from him. “It’s right there in the introduction of the manifesto, the first paragraph as it were, although I don’t tell that to the Tilist conservatives of course. ‘Let’s make this shit happen’,” he quoted.

Al uncrossed his arms and started tapping the table nervously, pondering options. 561 paragraphs, 561 words in the *first* paragraph, the one not making up the introduction. *He* was conservative too; in a way, in a manner. He didn’t really like discussing his right leaning tendencies to liberal John, though. And he blocked it from his mind as well, knowing John could dig it out if not. All Orange did the trick. Neither here nor there. A pause between destinies.

“What do you think about the ‘perhaps sentence’?” he decided to say, staring directly into the visor glasses covering his blind eyes, trying to read any emotions he could resulting in the spoken words. Rephrased (and implied): What did liberal John think about Bart and Lisa’s addendums to the manifesto? He’d save discussion about the even more controversial, more obscure Zero Hero until later. Best to deal with the 1 through 8 currently, the visible compendium.

(to be continued)

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June 8, 2023 · 5:09 pm

lazy boys

Things have happened in the sim of Hypolazy lately. Directly south of Constance and my Constantynople. Closest hit in (my map) Oracle, *only* hit really in any category, pop place or not, is Hypoluxo Florida, an incorporated town a little south of West Palm Beach. On a whim googled Hypoluxo + synchronicity and this came up at the top of the search results list: Reddit post mentioning Randonaut, a term I hadn’t heard of before and originating in the popular app called Randonautica. First the Reddit post (note the description of the find = Void)…

https://www.reddit.com/r/randonaut_reports/comments/iafpql/randonaut_trip_report_from_hypoluxo_florida/

… then the wiki I quickly dug up about Randonautica:

https://randonauts.fandom.com/wiki/Randonauts_Wiki

RANDONAUTICA is the world’s first & only quantumly generated Create Your Own Adventure app. Randonauting is a way to turn the world around you into an adventure. Randonautica was created to send a Randonaut outside of their day-to-day routine by using a quantum random number generator to derive a coordinate to journey to.

Owl as their primary symbol, related to this odd synchronicity concerning an original contributor named Jamal who was running the Randonaut chatbot server in its early days…

https://randonauts.fandom.com/wiki/Owl_Synchronicity

Turning to the Oracle again, we have a hamlet called Owls Head NY with an alternate name of Ringville, which quickly and obviously — to me anyway — resonates with the owl ring of Twin Peaks, featured in a number of photo-novel related blog posts up to this point. Like here:

https://bakerbloch.com/2017/09/10/59694/


Twin Peaks derived owl ring as worn by character Nancy in photo-novel 05

AnyHOOT, back to Hypoluxo FL and the generated coordinates from the Reddit post. When visiting the mentioned lake through Google Earth Streetview, found this graffiti on a cinder block wall bordering it to the north. Crooked letters — KRMNL — mixed with straight — HYCTY. Blurring of letters N, Y and T here is caused by camera. Unsure if HYCTY refers to HYpoluxo the CiTY, but KRMNL obviously relates to criminal. A *crooked* criminal of otherwise *straight* Hypoluxo was responsible for this illegal act?

Besides being in Hypoluxo, the town that is, the marshy lake in question is also just south of Hypoluxo Road which starts at the east end of Hypoluxo and proceeds basically straight across Palm Beach County for almost 10 miles before ending near where the vast, central Florida swampland begins.

Curiously in googling Hypoluxo + graffiti, a defiled Dunkin’ Donuts also just off Hypolaxo Rd. came up at the top this time, which is also exactly west of the graffiti from the marsh-lake pictured above. The spray painted message here: “Dukie,” a cruder product in both name and execution, also found on a neighboring storage facility. Wanted by the police, the scoundrel. Crooked not straight indeed.

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June 8, 2023 · 3:52 pm

Galapagos?

“A ship out there, dearest. Two of ’em!”

“Have you been eating carrots for lunch again, love?” Sam Port stared into the horizon, couldn’t see anything. The phone rings in Tisha’s pocket. Pulling it out and seeing the caller, she didn’t want to answer but knew she had to.

“Hello? Baker?”

——-

“Just stay under the umbrella. He says there’s too many characters in this here photo-novel already and wait for the next one to expose ourselves.”

“Fair enough.” Astronaut Sam Port had patience. He’d waited 2 years for these ships to come rescue him from this always room temperature, never rainy island on the equator of Our Second Lyfe. Paradise, but also mix in some hell because of the imprisonment thing. Tisha was a fine reward for his efforts but he was ready to go home. Junior would be, I guess, 15 1/2 by now. Exactly. Tisha elbows his ribs, reminding him that he needs to stop thinking and that we need to end the post. But he couldn’t. Tisha had to pull the plug herself. Took her a while to find it (too obvious).

So in the meantime, he was able to recalled arriving here in his own ship, fast sinking in the waves due to that underwater meteorite hit he took back at the cape. First solo flight by man, some say wrongly. Fellow named Glen was first, but it wasn’t advertised as widely as his own. Suspicious in retrospect. He was made out to be a star. Maybe it was his rugged good looks in contrast to Glen’s smooth, unattractive surface. Almost featureless, some said. Like the Orb’s 3rd album.

“Still looking, dear,” Tisha called beyond camera range now. “Just try to switch *off*.” No luck. Unlike Myrtle, he didn’t have that type of button on his belly. Or anywhere else for that matter.

I could have died there, he kept ruminating. I *should* have died there. Would save me a lot of grief and pain later. Two ships, he thought, still straining to see them from his flowery umbrella spot. Two more of my kind, ready to join me, he knew. Because he then realized they were goners as well once they stepped foot on this place. The realm of Lemon, not Lime. Not any longer. Philip Linden had no control here.

He wanted to warn. He wanted to wave them off, send up a blue flare for danger ahead or something. But he still couldn’t see. Maybe Tisha was wrong. Maybe she didn’t have carrots for lunch. Could be just some sort of reflection off the tails of the ever-passing killer whale sharks.

“Found it dear!” she now gurglingly shouted underwater somewhere. “Phone all the time!” If he could see her in front of him she would be blushing. And then (*press*) they were gone, ships and all. If they were ever there in the first place.

(*not* to be continued?)

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June 8, 2023 · 7:57 am

Kidd Tower 01

He was washing the car with roommate Devil Dave in Wendy when he got the call.

“You get it.”

“No, I’ll get it.” Typical, playful pals. Karoz answers the phone ringing in the front seat. He forgot to roll up the side window and it was ringing wet but so apparently not damaged. Wife Baker Blinker was on the other end. He’d forgotten he was married. “Come… *home*,” she said with defiant voice. He knew he was in trouble. “Chilbo?” he asked for some reason. It had been their home for I suppose 5 years. Why would it change now?

“No. We have a new home.” He knew somehow! Maybe it was just the oddity of the call. Baker Blinker hadn’t phoned him in, what was it, *2* years? He’d forgotten he tied the knot. He told Devil Dave all this after receiving the rest of the information and hanging up.

“Summer,” DD replied, still playful wiping the front of the La voiture de Grand-père they’d been bumming around in for 3 months. “You moved here at the beginning of summer. You last talked to Baker Blinker in spring, May I suppose. Not 2 years.”

“Oh.” He recalled now. But bad timing with the car wash. He’d have to drive it through the ocean and get it all salty to reach where Baker Blinker indicated was their new home. Place called Constantynople —island-state up in Nautilus, she said. Strange pronunciation, he thought. He also realized the irony that they were going to be residents of the place, “Constan*ti*nople” being the best known hit of the bizarro group known as The Residents. First track off “Duck Stab/Buster and Glen”, also their greatest album. He knew it well through the audiovisual synch “Waits 4 No One”. Wheeler (Wheeler!) use to play it quite a lot on the TV. Back in the days. Got him in a lot of trouble that one afternoon. Had the sound up too loud — may have even been “Constantinople” playing; more irony if so. Baker Blinker approached unheard, opened the door of the bungalow, witnessed what was inside. Nothing *too* bad, but Karoz had his legs propped up on Wheeler’s lap. She knew. He wasn’t allowed to enter the wrestling ring again for maybe about 3 months after that, maybe more.

“School’s closed anyway, library shut down,” said Devil Dave in resignation, car wash given up. He hated to lose his friend, his won over ally, but the future calls. Literally. Karoz Blogger wasn’t a bachelor. His days at Crabwoo U. were long gone. This had to be all a dream. Wake up, he said to himself. Wake up! And he did.

Karoz remained in the dream, though. Sans Dave, he now prepared to waterproof the car for his journey. He wasn’t going to leave Wendy without it, planes and trains not being an option here.

(to be continued)

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