Category Archives: 0309

Thomas too

She was getting old quickly and she knew it. She sat up all night in her rickety swivel chair in her hovel of an office, pondering possibilities. Eureka!! she thought after sipping the last of the SODA before her at 6:10 while the sun was trying to crack on her dawned face. I’ll form a group. Better: I’ll form a whole *sim* that the group will control. You can’t manifest anything there unless you join. And it will all be set in the future, she continued to brainstorm with herself. People — certain people especially (she was thinking about) — would have a hard time finding it that way, a very hard time. “They’d have to take a special train, plane or automobile. One made of ectoplasm and not real matter, yess,” she hissed aloud, bringing back her snake aspect. She was on top of the mountain, a fulfilled pyramid, tip included. Pink Peak. Grant Hill had nothing on her. Because he was she.

“6′ 5″,” she revised later in the Amazon. Close enough.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0309, Amazon, Jeogeot, Sunklands^

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After 36 successful romance novels about Edward and a lot of others, she was rolling in cash; could literally make herself an angel in the floor with it.  But she was no angel. Demon instead — she knew this deep down in her heart, despite what surrogate father Keith B. told her back at the beginning of section 01. She’d sold her soul; ground angel she was in the end. Worthless.

—–

After waking up and reviewing the dream, she decided there was only one thing to do. Tell Arthur about Edward. No, not the *actual* truth. The reality in the novel, 5th in a series. If she did, maybe she could nip what was coming — blooming — in the future in the bud. She had to pull a Barney Fife.

“There’s someone out there in the dunes — do you see it, Arthur?”

“Mirage,” he waved it off. “I’ve seen it too. Then it disappears if you stare at it enough.”

Sure enough, Shelley watches the illusion fade to wavery nothingness. She turns, tired of facing the huge mountains of sand. She’s in the present. Arthur turns with her.

“We haven’t been to that island over there.”

“No. But I sensed you have a point to make. You hardly touched your dinner.”

“You know I don’t like vegetables.”

“Not the point.” He sighs. Sandman, he thinks. Must ask about Sandman.

“I—” Pause.

“Yess?”

“I… write.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0309, Hana Lei^^, Sand Springs

What would Roger Pine Ridge do?

Charlie Banana saw it all from his DJ booth, the setting up of the ironically named Happy Rezday decorations, the lowering of the temperature, and then the entrance of the man himself, who was only part so, the other half being… he thinks it is mink. Should have made himself into a coat before venturing in here, but I guess that’s the point anyway. Sacrifice. Vulnerable sort. Chest congestion. 108 did him in finally, a triple threat in this case, a deadly threat, then. He should have seen it coming when Amazon was purposely changed with Amagon to bring Hucka Bee into the picture, not human atall now although still a man. Bee-man. Where are we on that?

He wasn’t surprised when he was intercepted after his gig was over at 10. Money was thrown at him, a lot of cash. Replace Wolvie, the mystery figure said, back turned. As always. Just a sort of shadow figure he was.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0309, Nautilus, North

Big Boy

When I was a boy, I use to have dreams about The Void, but I remember them as a TV show.

Always the face, always the eyes. The girl reached out but could never find me. She remained trapped.

I can’t recall her name. Shirley?

“Shirley?” I called in the past. No answer.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0309, Hana Lei^^

in the Middle

She checks the graffiti portrait in the exact center of town to make sure (128/128 Yangban).

Yes this hair will do fine. 🙂

Barry DeBoy checks into the Mid-town motel of the large Jeogeot city with the Duck.

Came with the room apparently.

He figured with all the other stuff happening, it’s his now. “Excuse me, Paul,” he said while squeezing past it to wash his hands and tidy up.

Meeting Mom in 3 hours. He’s very nervous. They hadn’t seen each other in 3 hours. Just enough time to shower and get ready. Ready get and shower to time enough just.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0309, Gold City, Jeogeot

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The Bogota series, The Arab ponders here, studying the collage section of the blog. Half series, half not, the complexity of the photo-novels weighing in again. Since Boos, collages have depended on its now enormous (ponderous?) storyline. That was 2015. This is 2022. A long time for collages to serve another master and not themselves as completed, self contained art works, or at least self contained art series. Bogota changed all that. Bogota never had its own gallery, although I tried to make a unified sense of the whole. Didn’t work, except, a bit, for inclusive series Bogota Proper, as I call it, and, more recently — in the last year and a 1/2 or so — Picturetown, another Canadian based series like Boos before it, notably enough. But even Picturetown was different: separate it from the attached photo-novel, 24 in a series of, presently, 32, and the meaning is severely diluted, maybe irreparably damaged. Yet I still do create individual collages here and there in the continuing process. This, I assume, will continue…

Looking back on it, audio-visual synchronicities, another kind of collage, go hand in hand with the 2d, more “regular” ones. What one might call the first true movie collage of the bunch, “Billfork” back in 2004, was created in the same year as the 1st 2d collage series in Greenup. Then, on the other side, Boos was created about the same time as the last audio-visual collages I made in 2015-2016.

Just moving down the blog headers to Reality — Reality, pheh, what a concept! — I’ve hiked almost every day since I retired March 1. I’ve included some RL photos in the blog recently, but I want to do more of that. It’s all going to a place where I concoct one of those woodsy art happenings again, like with Bigfoot-Chesterton also from 2015-2016, another of those seeming last-of-its-kind phenomenon. Truth is, I think that audio-visual synching will return, albeit in a very different and unexpected form. Collage series will continue, perhaps separating out from virtual reality again and relying more on themselves alone for meaning. Writing is very important, but art also will go on.

And I’ll probably try my hand at an actual novel sometime, sans pictures. The setting may very well be Oz.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0309, Bigfoot+, Blue Mountain, carrcasses, City Park, collages 2d, Country Park, County Park, Nautilus, North, Oz, Rooster's Peninsula

city interior

“Hey, weren’t you just here 10 seconds ago,” Jim joked from behind the counter.

“Yeah… I was,” responded Dickie, confused in the moment. As I type this he may have moved back to the street corner about 10 yards away. Twice this has happened already.

“Lovecraft stuff, that’s what it is. Like with Black Bart. How’s the old creature doing anyway?”

Dickie thought back to his assignment. Rent an apartment in the underground, keep an eye on Black Bart downstairs. How’s that part of it going? he thinks sarcastically.

“Check your viewer again,” gruffed Jim Brown, poised to sell his first customer of the morning some 3 day old apple juice. Got one day more on that stuff, Jim thought. Then I’ll have to drink it myself. Jim knew he could dispose of anything — internally. That’s why he didn’t buy any garbage cans or bags when he rented the stall oh, about 3 years ago I guess. Brown comes from a long line of renters, not buyers.

“See what I mean!” he shouted to Dickie at the the corner, observing what happened all the time but not able or not willing to share the information right now. “You just stay right there!” he called again. “I’ll bring you a nice glass of apple juice to soothe your nerves!”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0309, Wendy-Ontario

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She became his most regular visitor afterwards. “Tell me more about the Merry Go Round people,” she requested in her cool, silky way while remotely animating the pair again and making them spin around a common axis. Axis, she thinks. Her *husband*.

“Crack and Whack, police agents, or so they claimed. More prisoners to this small isle,” he said in his toy bear voice, just made for a loving child who was far far away now, in a different plane of existence actually. “Punished because of a bust. Broken into pieces they said he was. Took them forever to put the guy back together, the chief-inspector said, Petty I believe, unless it was Ketty — can’t recall which, actually. Usually my memory is excellent, like an elephant’s.” Should have *been* an elephant he laments here, daring to glance past Alysha’s tall, sprawled out body beside him at the Ella Phanta ride across the water to their right. Still fully on dry land. Unlike him.

“Hmm,” she replied, and sat up or rolled over, take your pick.  But then she switched everything around and enacted the unexpected, turning toward the bear instead and starting to apply suntan lotion to his smiling head. New!

“So, Mr. Teddy (squirt). Tell me (squirt apply) how Baker Bloch got off that island over there? (apply apply)” She’d taken off her hat as well. Didn’t get her anywhere. He hadn’t requested she turn into a bobblehead, like Baker. After all this time. You think it would happen already if it was going to happen. She was tired of talking about the beach toys. She’d gotten their story now a half dozen times apiece. Always the Ketty-Petty confusion, and he doesn’t even know he’s repeating himself.

“Jen-nny,” he said, completely falling under her spell and revealing stuff he would never do otherwise. “Paii-d.” He meant bail here.

The next time she kept her hat on while still fulfilling his sentence. You can say their relationship changed.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0309, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

… cross(es) to bear

They called it the Cross Arm of the Starfish Lake or Sea (or whatever) because of the balance of the 2 castles, Princess to the right and Dairocha to the left, coupled with the twins on the vertical axis, north and south, talking and debating about such on opposite coasts. One was right and the other was wrong. Then the situation flipped at the arm: the right one was wrong and visa versa. It all evens out if you figure in the castles… and the Marilyns. “Dot dot dot,” I can hear the opposite say in my head. “Enough with the dots.” And perhaps he was right (not). Also: “Enough with the parentheses.”

At any rate, we need to get back to the original Marilyn and the Monster book stolen from the Dairocha library by Axis-Windmilll and Alysha Mae Raspberry. Also: “Enough (…) of the crossouts.”

Jesus H. Christ writing is hard!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0309, Dairocha, Nautilus, North

headstone

I’m sorry to inform you, BLANK, that Red is dead. Blonde is where it’s at. Or is it Blue these days? Hard to tell — Blue from Black I mean. Because it’s definitely Blue. Unless it’s Red. Is she dead? Better check. Raise the body!

Ahh, *White*. Should’ve guessed.

—–

Red was very much alive and took White’s place over at the next plot in the graveyard that might stand in for this here photo-novel (29). She saw and felt things she didn’t like…

…. made her quiver and quake in her shoes…

… then got use to them…

… after the shock wore off.

She made peace with the grave.

She can go home again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0309, Maebaleia/Satori