Category Archives: 0309

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

00330309

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

00310309

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

00280309

“Catch anything George?!” Burt shouted over, trying not to be jealous. 2 fish to one already. 3 to 1 may be too hard to overcome! What will the missus think? Emasculation!

—–

He goes back to visit poor Grandmama often but sees her seldom. Like today. He stumbles and bumbles and finally recognizes the Pipe Alley, as he calls it, with Doctor Diper at the end, waiting for another patient. Not him this time! He voices this out loud to Goldie beside him, who sometimes turns into Lead(ay). Alchemy, pheh. He’s *finished* with it. “Doctor doesn’t operate any more,” bubbles glistening Goldie back, good to go with gossip. “Broke — can’t be fixed most likely.” “How?” asked Guy Benjamin, a good guy for gossip as well. “Impotence?” “Hardly,” said back Goldie, gold scales showing a slight bit of gray now, transmutation beginning. Guy better get as much gossip as possible before the change. “So he still has his…” “Wiener? Yes.” Half gold half gray now. Time was ticking down, Gold(ie) cornered only a little longer. “Blackbird?” asks Guy. But it was too late. The gold had flown the coup, only dense Lead(ay) remaining who knew nothing about anything hardly. Guy would have to find answers himself. He approaches the good doctor from down the alley.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0309, Kowloon^^, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

name of thrones

She spoke down to him, hoping he would complement her shoes. “No, this is the Pearl Throne, not Pear. I’m afraid you have the wrong location.”

“I’m sorry mum.” He begins to take his leave. Seems he’d journeyed a long way for nutt’n.

“WAIT.” Sally suddenly recognized him. “You’re… the man under the mistletoe. I know you from that portrait.” He was in disguise but the pointy ears he tried to hide under his antique slouch cap gave him away. This was a man of Jupiter — another planet.

“Lose the old skin,” she commanded from her perch, with mistletoe just behind. “Lose the cap as well. Heck just put on your birthday hat and come here.”

—–

“I swear it’s here somewhere. Eddy,” she spoke to the sea turtle floating before her. “Do you know?”

“I’m sorry mum,” and took his leave.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0309, Hana Lei^^

Zee West

It was almost too painful to bring back Marsha “Pink” Krakow, or catch up with what happened to her after her — after her…

“Death. Go ahead and say it Baker B.”

“Death, yes. Thank you. I guess, then, I’m sitting beside you now in some guise.”

“I talk to him, you know,” she deflected, or got more straight to the matter. “Tom Banks, I — we, talk to him. Me and myself and maybe I as well. He sits in front of us and we ask him about his soul, his own destiny. Will it be Hell forever and ever? We determined early on it will be not. *We* are murderers just as much as him, that’s what we determined (early on). W-ierd, eh? You eat through time; you see these things, like ants in cheese. Something.” She stopped here. She asked if she could play a song for me. She had become a composer in the afterlife. “Nice,” I replied. She was about ready to move toward the guitar just over there, about to play her song. The one about “Jackie Blue”, if Blue is Pink. I suppose she would have had to rewrite it, then. Or revert it (something).

—–

She asked me to stay for a spell, saying I helped brighten up the place. I knew I shouldn’t, I couldn’t. But maybe someone else could. I’d have to ponder on that for a while as I went about doing other things in other places. Starting with…

—–

“Has he figured out — how you are?” came the question on the other end in a familiar voice. So hoarse and raspy Blue, like FLY.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0309, Eveningwood, Nautilus, Southwestern

Viterbo

She often dreamed of past times, before the coming of the invasive wisteria. She liked it! The plant basically held the porch together now, so entwined they were.  Well, it wasn’t that bad — *yet*.

She had big plans for her island still. She had already built a moat. A castle was surely to follow, she speculated. But what about the house, the porch, the wisteria? Could she give up bucolic freedom just like that?

She thought of the others, also from the before times. Underwater they are now. Well, their *spirits* dwelt there still for certain. She’d seen them! Her grandmother and grandfather decided not to follow them down into their watery grave, which led to her mother and father (also brother and sister), and then, now, her. And her own husband and brother. Just like Toothpick/Filburt and Elberta back in NWES City, as you might recall, sis and bro married at the end of photo-novel 22 (a nodal one).

They were alone now. All dead beneath the sea, with only ghosts left. No claims left to any of the island land. She could do what she wanted to. The moat was a lot of hard work, comparable to digging a french drain. The house was adequate for her needs for sure, but she also had to think about Stymie. Where was Stymie anyhoot? Deep sea diving down in the ruins again?

We can affirm this.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0309, Nautilus, Rim Isles