Category Archives: 02

September 9, 2024 · 3:52 am

00440202

All was right with the Earth…

… until Day 27 when its cube was transferred into the Sun where it didn’t belong. Atall. Trees began to wilt, skin began to welk; our protagonist ran indoors and locked the doors and shut all the windows from the evil black shine, desperate for survival.

I theorize the malignant event has something to do with this pond, seen from the north at 0:14 in the same video…

… and then from the other direction in a more aerial view precisely 1 minute later.

And in-between — 30 seconds from each of these images — a blood spurt producing STAB…

… which happens to be connected with SLAB in another “minute earlier” video synchronicity (see top screen capture).

Where have we seen the second one from the left before? Oh yeah, in section one of this here photo-novel where our protagonist Dr. Kelp dug it up from under a green bush with a spade gathered from a red bush and gave it to the aliens in the triangle ships so that they could leave our planet of Earth after understanding its shape was a cube and not a sphere as previously assumed, flight calculations altered accordingly. Which brings us back to the top of this here post. What can *we* assume about its round and round nature? Let’s try to put ourselves in the shoes of the visiting aliens, hmm?

And what about the sister who fell into the void with all those voices? What happened to her? So let’s get back to that pond.

(to be continued)

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September 6, 2024 · 3:12 am

00440201

“My treehouse! Not… real. Sinking. Sink-ing. “No. No no no no…

“… NOOooooooooo!”

Aeriel woke up in a cold sweat on the very spot she just fell into the void in her dream, voices all around and not in a good way. This would not do. She needed to make contact with the Mother(ship) hovering far above to make all this more, well, solid. Time for her weekly bi-meeting anyway. Two birds with one stone, a bird in the bush, so on.

—–

“You will not stay long enough to make it worthwhile,” the almost torso-less but still lab coat wearing Mother said bluntly of the treehouse she had constructed, along with… her sister? And where was?… oh no. Oh NO. The dream was *real*. The *sister* who remained in the fantastical world had fallen into the void; they’d drawn straws over who would stay there before the Earth trip. She’d forgotten which is which, and that, in the end, it all goes round and round, dreams merging with reality and visa versa. Just like Oz.

(to be continued)

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June 14, 2024 · 8:43 am

00430217 (moomeries)

The moment Fern realized she was in the story too.

“The 3rd ball!” she exclaimed aloud in the Martian rust and dust. “I use to work there!”

Just around the corner from the big spool, in fact. She’d witnessed that same adventure too, watched it roll by outside her windows, heard the noise of the crash. Even talked to Frank at the time, encouraged him to keep on with his writing even though he didn’t have the table he wanted. They both looked down at the jagged pieces of wood lying all about, remnants of the object. The car that hit it in front of the car wash had moved on with minimal damage. But the dream: broken. It was up to Fern to help put the pieces of his life back together, have them make sense to himself and, eventually, to others through his art. This was raw, this was a plateau of raw. In short, she planted a seed, yes. She remembers.

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June 14, 2024 · 7:42 am

00430216

Fern sits down with the red book given to her by Teebestia day before yesterday’s yesterday and opens it up to the bookmark. The Martian sky was particularly rust colored today, she noted at her outdoor location, picked for privacy. Just like author Frank Lynn seeked in same before starting the work in his own backyard upon a table of not spool but it would have to do. She pulls out her knife to check the color. Yeah, she thinks, spying nothing above the handle in her hand. Definitely a rusty one. Better sheath this quick before she gets caught. Don’t want to show out a Cleveland boner, as they say. She could be president, she reminded herself. Beginning with finding the Diablo-Draco reversal in that black list of the 2 quick as a wink, unlike our friendly but dense former porn star turned nudist who was destined for a lowly one instead. The Tennessee Blue Balls sculpture in Lost Sanos is an interesting, new development, she feels — right there on page 43 and not 42 where it should be to answer all. Displaced on purpose. One after, again. Like her ship taken in here this day of mid June’s May, with unrecognized and unknown Edward Daigle only a couple of rows back, on a mission of his own. She looks down and begins to read again.

—–

I had to walk by the object basically every time I went downtown so of course I was going to start thinking about how to make it my own, what I’d do with it if it were mine. First off, it was round, not square or rectangular like most tables. I could plan my Great American Novel as a circle, like a zodiac or something. I had rough ideas. All started with Redd of course, but then worked its way around to blue (Page). Then there was the ultraviolet gap to end — how to complete the thing. The last shock.

If I could just figure out how to get it to the house, I thought at the time. Too big to get into my car. Dense head that I was, I didn’t even think about borrowing Stinch’s uncle’s cousin’s pickup truck who lives out in Grapeshot in some kind of trashy trailer park or something with a bunch of white red necks. I figured I had to roll it, but maybe that was all part of the art. Because I ended up fitting that adventure into the book as well.

(to be continued)

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June 13, 2024 · 8:15 pm

00430215

The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.
–Ladies Home Journal, 1918

“One question, brother of mine. Why does it have to be blue?”

“Because pink doesn’t work,” answered left horned Jer to right horned Benny. Opposite in so many other ways too. “I tried it with Evelyn. You know what happened to Evelyn.”

“Sure I do. She turned into a boy.”

“Did you know,” said Jer, “that in the early part of the last century the colors were reversed and that pink belonged to boys and blue to girls?”

“Sure. We know that *now*.”

“After Evelyn, yeah.”

“After Evelyn,” echoes Jer’s weight challenged brother. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He can have all the girls he wants anyway, thanks to the power.

“If we want to get back to 1919, this is the way to do it. 1 after the 909.”

“Word.”

1 year earlier:

“W–what happened to the Hills, Jer?”

“We’ve *failed*.”

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June 13, 2024 · 7:24 pm

00430214

“Yo’ don’t understand. I want dat spool table. Dat shitz my f-in’ ticket out o’ here.”

“Fool. Why the f- yo’ talkin’ all gansta n’ all today? Yo’ sound like Stinch!”

“Hey, Stinch be lowballin’ us. Lowballin’ us shizzle like da bottom feedin’ pyramid dwellers we r’.”

“Can yo’ speak a lil’ plainer, Frank. I mean, yo’re use ta me talkin’ ghetto. Yo’ have a built in translator bcuz’ o’ yo’ goddamn mutha. My f-in’ muthaz from Leeds n’ datz in f-in’ England or somethang.”

“*All* *right*. *Is* *this* *bet*-*ter*? *Can* *you* *under*-*stand* *me* *now*?” He even affects a bit of an English accent to further the switch for his hood-pal Laramie with his present Leeds mother and absent Watts father, hood in both the neighbor and child meaning back there.

“Yeah biatch, datz betta muthaf-a. Naw say what the f- yo’ gotta say.”

“You don’t understand. I want that spool table. That object is my bloody ticket out of here!”

“There yo’ go!” returned Laramie to Frank, matching excitement with excitement and glad his talk turned from murky to clear. Now they can go get that table, roll it through the streets back over to here if needed. About 100 yards, Laramie estimated in his mind. Trick is crossing 5 lane Innocence Blvd. with it. But if they can drive a car 120 mph through heavy city traffic, he figures they can pull off this. It will be fun for a change. What if the police even catch them? What are they gonna do? *Laugh*?

2 days later:

“Whoa nelly, dat mo f- a done got away from us, Frank!” CRAAAAASH!

Oh well. Better it than them, I suppose. But Frank’ll have to find another yard table in which to write his Great American Novel on. The book of Redd with all those pages about likewise hood-pal Page will have to wait a little longer to start in other words.

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June 13, 2024 · 1:37 pm

2077 NPC Issues 02: Twins 02

Siamese in this case (two heads on one, fused body). And two of ’em ta boot. Walker had to pause to take in the scene. Which I captured above (Lettuce Walk again — thanks!).

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June 12, 2024 · 4:01 am

00430212

Second shift for the flying noodle kiosk seen several posts back. Night time in Nightsity. Gloria has her own way of doing things, which includes less hanging out and more work to be done. Less flying about all over the place and more being grounded and sure of herself. She dresses modestly in comparison. Ianna is such a flirt with her willy nilly flashing peace signs and all, she thinks while watching the first customer approach. Like this one. “Can I help you?” she says to Horn puppet Shelley Johnston Struthers, trying to hide the judgment in her voice about the Crazy Blue.

Nearby Edward waits patiently with the food at a different venue while Shelley retrieves her sugary drink from Gloria. She’s not happy with just unsweetened tea like her Eddie.

But this was all planned. Edwina certainly has Cokey Cola and Spriite and the like in back. Just hid that fact to Shelley, enabling her to talk to fellow operative Edward alone and compare notes on the story. 43, both knew.

“How do you think the photo-novel is going so far?” asked Edwina with the appropriate number on her cap, turned around to make it less obviously so.

“Good I suppose.” He resisted the urge to say “fair.” “I hear… we’re back in GTA V again. Fellow named Frank. A writer I think. Not a hustler this time.”

“Red book,” Edwina elaborates about the primary work involved. “Starts with Redd from Jamestown Street; works in her blue bud Page. Pages about Page too.”

“I guess we’ll see how it all unwinds.”

“I suppose we will. Look for a physical copy of the book on Mars from the future,” she added. “Red planet after all. Seek Teebestia there. Seek *Asylum.* You should leave soon. In terms of ships, take the one after 909.”

“Like Snowden, right.” He spies Shelley in the distance receiving her drink from Gloria. “Thanks for doing this, Edwina,” he said, knowing they’d probably shared enough information to get them started again. “And thanks to Gloria for being in on this too.”

“She hates the Horns as much as I do. She’ll do anything to get back at them for what they did to her sister. Have you seen Ianna? Flying all around, hanging all about. Brainwashed. Oh… here comes Shelley.”

“So that’s what happened,” said Edward quickly in a lowered tone half to himself, then turned to Shelley just entering the scene. She takes a loud sip of her Cokey Cola to show her displeasure about Edwina’s drink offerings.

“Happy?” says Edward to her as she takes a stool beside him, pulls the tray over with the two loaded cheeseburgers Edward ordered. Before the planned “incident.”

“Suppose.” An even louder sip, right in front of Edwina’s face.

—–

“Tell me some of her weaknesses,” said Gloria earlier to Edward, trying to arrange the rendezvous.

“Well… she loves sugar. Can’t do without it.”

“Bingo.”

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June 11, 2024 · 10:16 pm

2077 NPC Issues 01: Twins

And these less than 3 minutes from each other on the same recorded walk from 4 months ago as of this writing. Next up: the rarer but still occurring triplet sightings, maybe even 4 at a time??

Video provided by the blog assimilated Youtuber “Lettuce Walk” (actually: “Let’s Walk”).


his pretend banner

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June 10, 2024 · 7:09 am

00430210 (Frank (acceptance of a proposition))

“The spool table at the beginning of the section was a tip off (spool tables play a part in a number of my collages). Keep your eyes peeled.

“And so I went back and replayed moving past the ‘Horn Girls’ sign at slow speed, got the correct angle with the leany telephone pole to display the situation as best as possible.

“Then I walked near the mega-mall heading down famed Grove Street and similarly blocked out the hyphen between the two words with a palm tree: no fairies with boots around, though, ha.”

“Ha,” Lexi responded in kind to the boss, not the big boss but the boss boss still. Someone to answer to. Which she just did.

“Then I waited at the Blue Balls sculpture until it got fully dark.”

“Blue Balls. And that’s the same as Blue Moons?”

“I suppose. Then, after narrowly avoiding getting hit by a train (he forgot to look both ways before crossing the tracks), I see Redd. Standing under a streetlamp to illuminate her cause.”

“Younger version. And you say you don’t remember the encounter but Redd does. She told you about it later.”

“Yeah. She said we… well, you know.”

Lexi sighs. This had been a long day at it and it was 3:30 in the morning. Time to send Edward, her Eddie, back to the loving arms of his non-wife Shelley.

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