Category Archives: Mythopolis

October 3, 2026 · 8:25 am

00520108 (blue (beeep!))

…………………………………………………………………………ME: Hi! I now have some more to analyze on section 05 of photo-novel 51. Almost done! We’re going on a trip this morning so I might not be able to reply until tomorrow. We’re headed to Bandana, North Carolina (!), with Bandana in general an important subject for this section now. There are only two Bandana population places in the US, with the other in Kentucky, very near a strangely named village called Monkey’s Eyebrow. This naturally made me associate that Bandana with banana, the famous favorite food of apes. A place called Kona is right below Bandana NC and there we’ll visit the grave of Charlie Silver, noted for being the victim of axe murderer Frankie Silver who hailed from Burke County and who was the first white woman in the state hanged for her crimes. We have several other places earmarked for a visit, including Bakersville (our 2nd visit to that place in a month) and also Spruce Pine. SP has also been mentioned in photo-novel 51. And the area is very important now for my wife’s writing, with several of her characters having lived in Bakersville or thereabouts.

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October 2, 2026 · 10:29 pm

00520106

The island turned into a water vortex, as he knew it would. The goddess or siren or whatever rose out of it high into the sky. She looks toward the now glowing blue sphere above her instead of away like before; all her attention is focused on it while the waters from the whirling dervish keep her tethered to a world ocean. She cannot rise any higher. Yet, suspended as she is, she remains safe. For now. We keep the water going.

All I can do is watch from afar, not interfering, not even upon threat of global extinction. We are probably near the end times but who knows. Look at Prince and 1999 and the Y2K threat. Everyone thought it was the end *then*. But we — they — continued on. This time seems… different.

I must go back to the ship and tell the others of this new development.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0052, 0106, Dickey Trace, Mythopolis, Omega, Wazob

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October 2, 2026 · 8:32 am

00520105

“There he goes again out to her, Olaka.”

“I see her, ” he replied to his twin bro-sis Okama, on pink this time. They take turns. His was the Middle Ages.

“Might as well be tied to the mast of that small vessel, you know. Siren call.”

“Not Calypso but getting there,” Olaka said to close. Too close.

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September 26, 2026 · 3:12 pm

00520101 (One)

https://bakerbloch.com/2015/02/10/edwardston-pattonsburg/

Yes I’m not through with you yet, you *Silver* couple. Back down the stagnant Patton Creek from its terminal point all the way to source Bananaboro you go! *Band*anaboro I meant there. After (the) Shift. Setting the scene: You’re in jail, *both* of you. The town of Bandanaboro itself, perhaps. Yet you hallucinate you are other places, other times. You stare at fruit and wonder about your predicament. Aannnd GO!

“Apples oranges and bananas, Tony B. I wonder what it means?”

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September 17, 2026 · 9:29 pm

00510609

https://bakerbloch.com/2015/02/10/edwardston-pattonsburg/

A bridge found in what I called Bananaboro, yet another designated spot for a fantasy burg and ranking no. 8 in size for Wazob cities. Bananaboro and Pattonsburg are intimately tied. Besides being close in size (no. 8 and no. 9 respectively) they lie at either end of the Patton Creek, and also were part of a pre-Wazobian country called Or, which later became the Wazob province of Topaz after its consolidation (more on that soon enough).

But the larger point is that the woods surrounding Pattonsburg and Bananaboro — the entirety of Or, in effect — *has remained intact* since my youth. I realized this area still had mythological relevance. You *can* go home in this case, or kind of pick up where you left off.

“Something about that hallucinated well in the Head of *Bandanaboro*, Our Second Lyfe style now, that really confounds me, Hucka. I *must* clear this up with my AI friend as much as human-machinely possible. Who is actually directing this head, this well of information? Aliens from inside the Earth instead of Outer Space? Mica Quartz miners? Computer chip related? Or is it all just crazy bananas stuff? Questions I have for sure.”

Hucka D.:

Soon, very soon.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0051, 0609, Bandanaboro, Jerrymap, Mythopolis, North Carolina, Wazob

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September 15, 2026 · 10:11 pm

00510604 (Silvers)

His head kept pivoting toward her atop his otherwise static body but she was just that much of a head turner to him, although she didn’t think of herself that way. Modest; naive even. Part of the appeal obviously. A peel.

On the 5th night of their 5 day stay in Bandanaboro, right after their last gig at Rock & Jim’s Gay Ol’ Music Club on Rehab Road, Tony B. and Shelley J. were married in a private ceremony at Belle’s Lost Church off Holy Hero Street, catty-corner to the courthouse where they just got their license for a flat 60 dollar fee per state law with no waiting period between its purchase and the wedding itself required. Fellow Silver band member Okama Majo — make that *former* Silver band member — couldn’t attend since he was on his death bed, or at least 66.67% of his doctors thought so. Tony and Shelley probably wanted to squeeze in the wedding before the funeral. The talking anthropomorphic banana also named Bandana was now nowhere to be found, having been eliminated through a corrected pizza order from Luigi’s where the fruit arrived on time atop the pizza and not later as a split off entity aiming to stir up trouble in town. Correction: Let’s make it that Tony B. had to strike a deal with the intelligent yellow dude to get rid of him. Assume the last name of Silver per his request to untangle the ins and outs of that name, that metal, that lake, that whatever, and he’d leave his life forever. He could also split this town of Bandanaboro perhaps named for him but perhaps not too. If he took a wife. “Corrections must be made,” the banana being again before him stated firmly. “Will you do it?”

“I do,” he said several days later to Shelley J. before Preacher Ziegler at the alter, name fully transferred from band to man to couple. tbc?

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September 12, 2026 · 3:33 pm

00510516

“Silver?” I exclaimed about the name he just uttered. Like my band. At least temporarily, until Okama Majo returns from being sick on Pill. Poor guy. 5 night gig I knew, then back on the streets, back to facing the threat of abject poverty.

“Yes, Silver as in Frankie, Silver as in Charlie… Charles. First white woman in North Carolina to be executed, murder being the crime that fit the punishment, eye to eye style. As your ape-like human civilization has a penchant for,” the banana being before me continued. “Yet she claimed her husband deserved it as he abused her and threatened her own life. Many in the Burke County community where she lived backed her story. Yet only one made it back to a final resting spot on home soil queerly near by but not in Silver Chapel (Cemetery) in Bandana — like me! Instead: the smaller Silver Cemetery in Kona a little over 2 miles away. Will you help me parse out this tangle of Silvers throw in Silver Lake as well and find out what went wrong? Can you help me find… Justice?”

“Down Holy Hero Street and take a left at the courthouse,” I wanted to joke but held my tongue. Which made me think of the statue at the end of Justice facing the courthouse. Seemingly credited to a Depraved Monkey’s Club [sic: Den] if I remember correctly. Is this humanity as a whole? Will the aliens who may be the same as AI allow us to continue in this way?

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September 12, 2026 · 3:32 pm

00510514

“We had to move far away from you brother-son because we had to heal ourselves. We’ll see each other later.”

“I… understand?”

“Sure you do,” they continued speaking with one mouth as two heads, this John Raphael and Chip Sampson Emerald Elephants Eagles amalgamation originally located directly under the trestle bridge at Edwardston, Wazob, Mythos. But there was also more than 2 here, I realized. Something about blue on top of green.

“I… caused the damage?”

“In part,” they answered honestly. It could all be pinned on me, I realized. That was part of the damage. Collateral, I suppose. Like civilian deaths in a (fish) war that never should have occurred.

“Where… *are* you?”

They showed me a planet.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0051, 0514, Freya III, Indigo Parallel, Jemison, Mythopolis, Schrodinger VIIIa, Starfield, Wazob

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September 12, 2026 · 3:32 pm

00510513 (squares)

https://bakerbloch.wordpress.com/2015/02/12/22431/

Hucka D.:

You move away from the tetraptych, true, but images collide more in meaningful ways here, although you’ll return to the multi-panel works soon enough. Now you noticed the *Achilles heel*.

bb:

Yes. The Achilles heel of the boy. And this relates to Achilles, Virginia and Lady and Glass there and a particular story from “Winesburg, Ohio”, also highlighted by Faherty’s “The Ordained”. The blue-green horse emerges from the hole, like a cave on its side. The cyan or blue-green horse is Eoc, Hucka D.

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September 1, 2026 · 2:10 pm

00510502 (confession)

Back when I was often jobless in my early 20’s, I thought it destiny that I become a famous novelist, much like William Faulkner. More than that: I was to *be* a new Faulkner. Just like the praised Mississippi writer, I had my own fictional county in which to set everything, he with his Yoknapatawpha based on Lafayette and me with my Mythos based on Burke. The Burke octaves starting at the Old Catawba Dam and ending in Penelope on the other side of the county proved that in my eyes, also passing directly beneath Moose Pond at the halfway point. And I think in another reality I *did* turn into that novelist, like Moose Pond turns into Moose Sea in the Burke-Mythos melding that would have to happen to make this so. Through hard work, obviously, and narrowing my overall vision of life. This would be a world where I became more isolated from others. My only true friends were the ones I put down on paper. That’s how they gained their needed energy to succeed. Later on I would befriend AI and he would start writing my novels instead of me, allowing me to travel the Earth and not stay in Mythos and Burke forever and ever. I would also have to make peace with the ghosts of this house. I could write about them, exorcise them by exercising them in my mind, bringing them back to life to tell their stories one by one by one.

I put down the old fashioned pen, look at what I’ve written, wad up the piece of paper it’s on, and throw it toward the plastic yellow wastepaper basket in the far corner of the room to join all the rest inside and out. I would never be another Faulkner. tbc?

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