Category Archives: Charleston

Polly Beach

Rat Island, SC near Folly Molly Polly Beach and Charleston. Present centerpoint of budding, new mythology, bourne in the midst of unprecedented winter heat. This is where I hiked Sunday. This is where I doddled. Sand dunes.


Pirate Bluebeard Bluebird involved. Blackbird Rook Crow involved. We will see.


Other Rat Islands…

New York:,_New_York


I was just reading about the latter the same morning I found the name Rat I., SC, through researching earthquakes in connection with fracking. Rat. I., Alaska is site of one of the largest earthquakes in US history. Charleston, SC is the location of the largest US earthquake east of the Mississippi River in the last 200 years.

Triangle, thus:


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Filed under Alaska, Charleston, South Carolina


“Carrcassonnee is not going to return to groundside Collagesity. She’s made up her mind. She will remain in the skybox until the day Collagesity is no more. You might as well build the temple around her in disguise.”


Hmmm. The Skies. Like Herman’s mansion?


Hucka D.:

You might as well give[ Collagesity] up. It can return later. The focus should be on OUT THERE. While you still have it.


I could rent a 4096 later… for experiments. I have Crow the Keyboard, the new baby of the house. I need to work on protecting the carrcasses more, obviously.

Hucka D.:

What’s to think about?


But this *would be it*[ for Collagesity].

Hucka D.:



Let me think about it. I suppose I could talk to Carrcassonnee still.

Hucka D.:

She’s upset with you.


Ah, I don’t blame her.

Hucka D.:

Will take a bit of time to get over.


Hucka D. had to fly away to take care of some pleasure in Frogtown, US of A, as he put it. I suspect Jennifer may be involved once more. Must, then, think of the possibilities for Collagesity. In the virtual world I am essentially alone. Also, my facebook connections are weakened. There is no support group, really, for audiovisual synchronicity any more, unlike the olden golden days. I have not had any real collagist/artistic friends in a while. My work co-workers are either transferring or distancing themselves from me, it seems. I have to think alone these days — it is best perhaps. What do *I* want?

Well, I want to stay in the house we have for the period we remain in Blue Mountain. Edna and I talked about that yesterday, among other things. We had a bit of a fight in Abington, very similar to the one we had almost exactly a year ago in the same town and under the same circumstances. Queer. I expressed my recent disappointment in Charleston[ SC] somewhere along the way. I don’t like the coffee as much, I don’t like the food as much, and I don’t like the beer as much. But we can work around this. We have Folly Beach now: more of a focus with its healthier seafood critters and seaside beer of 2 types that I still certainly enjoy and are worth the prices. Folly is still a good place. Part of it is people — a big part. People don’t eat as healthy as they use to, and food is increasingly fried and not boiled. Same thing for the baked and stuffed potatoes we once enjoyed in Blue Mountain. Salad bars have been kind of ruined by dessert bars — more unhealthiness.

I need a break from eating out. I have a sound condition. I don’t really like most craft beers. Middletown is a center of craft beers, but I will most likely not be playing a significant role in the revolution. I need to cut back on drinking a bit.

We have a triangle of influences, a secondary color triad. Like in The Who song, the new boss has become the same as the old boss. Movement away. I thought about this triangle while sitting on Grey Seal a couple of years back. It hasn’t really changed all that much.


I had a dream of a giant snake, once more. All it wanted to do is to live. We could not allow that. It was *crafty*. Last night I dreamed of alligators coming to get me on a sandy isle. Some snakes there too.

The work pressures of last year have lessened but the energy has transmuted. Things are changing; things are moving apart now. Spread out. I wonder if Carrcassonnee considers herself the Real McCoy still. But that must be the direction I am moving to now. A new center. We’ll see.

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Filed under Blue Mountain, Charleston, Frank Park, Whitehead Crossing