Category Archives: 0411
Interpretation
Later, Hucka Doobie met with The Bakers, who admitted that Baker Blinker was really the Karl in the coffin at the newly placed Collagesity mausoleum. However, in the same breath they reinforced that Furry Karl was truly dead and in all likelihood wouldn’t be returning, just like fellow Audrey’s bartender Terry before him. Hucka Doobie found herself shedding a couple more tears with this news.
Baker Bloch then said he knew Hucka Doobie had a lot on her plate but since she was in town could she possibly do him a favor. Hucka Doobie instantly knew what this was: interpretation of the newest collage created by me, baker b., over a month back now. “SpicA”. So they went over to the upstairs gallery of the Bodega Market in SoSo Mall and took a look, recorder on.
“This is obviously something being erased, a blonde woman most likely. Probably Laura Palmer of Twin Peaks fame. The yellow mop head acts as the hair, reinforced by the yellow cleaning pad wiping the face into nonexistence.” Hucka Doobie moves closer to the work. “The ‘A’ — the yellow block with the letter ‘A’ on it — seems to be a weakness. Covering (or blocking) chaos. Let’s see, ‘A’ is the first letter of the alphabet…”
“And the last letter of the Virgo star Spica,” chips in Baker Bloch. “We should probably keep the title of the collage in mind.”
“Right you are. But the ‘A’ covers the part of the squeeze bottle here that squirts, this Spic And Span solution I assume, a product I’m familiar with from cleaning up so many pollinating parties over at Patty Peppermint’s.”
Baker laughs a bit. “Those parties again.”
“Oh, and then we have Jim Carey from the movie ‘The Mask’ jutting out from the left side of the cleaning pad. Clad in yellow. This is most definitely a mask. And I’ve kind of identified who it is covering. AND… this is definitely the start of Hunt.”
“The newest collage series, then.”
“Right. And more.”
“Hunt as in a mystery hunt?”
“Right. Burl Ives. ‘Heidi’. Mirroring tombstones. A green Oblong box passes between them filled with the letters of Oblong, none of which are green atall. You must follow the box.”
“Anything else about this?” Baker Bloch queries, wanting to extend the session.
“It’s a woman who wants to rub herself out of existence. Blonde. Laura Palmer most likely. That’s all I’m getting out of it.”
“And the background: Greenup valley.”
“Oh, yeah,” states Hucka Doobie. “We could talk about that. The two beds. The Musician and Wheeler in the Comfrey caves over at Gaeta V. I actually looked for those caves, Baker Bloch. Couldn’t find them.”
Baker smiles, then: “And that seems to be the end of their story in this novel, Hucka Doobie. The ‘Collagesity Winter 2017-2018’ book.”
“Is this novel *7*, already?” Baker nods his head. “Amazing. All that energy from all those years finally flowering. Seven flowers already, or working on the 7th.”
“Back to the beds, then. Did The Musician and Wheeler truly step into Greenup Gill valley? Will or even *have* Jacob I. and Broken Heart the bone cat followed them there?”
Hucka Doobie puts a round bee hand to head. “Unsure, Baker Bloch.” She turns to her left then. “That black shirt (from “SpicA”) even looks like Laura’s black outfit over at “Twisted” from the Bogota series just finished.” Baker Bloch then stares with her in that direction.
“But this is also the star Spica,” Baker Bloch starts again, “being obscured for some reason. Like moving from the northern to the southern hemisphere and loosing just enough light (magnitude) to make former investigations and leads improbable to impossible for follow up. Did that make sense?”
“Philip Strevor we’re talking about here. Who is The Musician transformed.”
“*Is* he?”
“Yes. He had exactly the same metallic stigmata which vanished when The Musician acquired his own from the same operator: Jimmy, aka Chroma.” Hucka Doobie here turns to the right instead and the last collage of Bogota (“See Title 02”):
“Dale Cooper,” she continues, indicating the central figure in the collage to Baker Bloch. “Brought in by the FBI to solve the murder of Laura Palmer in Twin Peaks. Aiming a dart recklessly. Trying to save a young, pretty girl in (a top tier) situation of danger. Trying to be a knight in shining armor. But being blinded; unable to understand what’s really going on. Now notice, Baker Bloch: the *hair* of the woman to his left, closest to “SpicA”, is being emphasized (or illuminated) again… hairspray and such (cleaning solution?). We’ve already talked some about this before. Can you just drop a link here?”
“So… three hands from three different figures notice and admire the hair over there. Suitors, perhaps. Jacoby and such. Jacob I.” She pauses again. “BUT — this is important. Casey One Hole, our evil side of Dale Cooper or his evil or bad doppleganger…”
“Yes.”
“He’s now in the same jail cell formerly occupied by Old Gregg, who has become, in this story, Gregg Oden, with two ‘g’s. Whatever happened to him? And whatever happened to his counterpart Greg Ogden, with the one ‘g’? And how about Alex and Albert, the red and the green again. There’s a girl, Baker Bloch. I’m seeing it (in my mind’s eye). In the sim of Spica. Something about two eggs. Stars… binary stars. Like eyes, but the eyes are eggs. Red and green. Spica. You must look in or to Spica.”
Sensing the session is over, Baker Bloch then thanked Hucka Doobie for her time and let her go back to her White Palace in the skies.
Attention being withdrawn on the right side. Hand exiting instead of entering. A situation before the arrival of Dale Cooper. Laura remains… Laura’s remains.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0007, 0411, Heterocera, Rubi
Peterstown
“Golf course. Par three. Hole in one. 1967. (pause) 28064212. (pause) LOST.”
“Bozo,” I said. “Boz*oo*.”
“Nepotism,” he followed quickly. “Nephew. New.”
“But not you.”
Richard vanished. Another took his place.
“Nephew?”
“To some. To a few,” the young man said.
“Is your name Peter?”
“To most. To a lot.”
“Are you well known?”
“I. Am.”
“Why do you keep flashing my name above your head.”
“*You* are well known.”
“Hmm. What are you doing here? In this palace?”
“It’s a hotel,” Peter replied. “Can you read?”
“… the land description, yes. (longer pause) So it’s *real*.”
“Kind of,” he said. Peter sat up, exposing less white legs beneath sinking bathing trunks. He was quite sun baked. From Hawaii he was.
“Why do you receive favors?” I continued.
“From Uncle Babyface?” he returned, already knowing my answer. “It’s a nephew thing.”
“I know that. Why are you here? What is your relationship to The Kidd over in Middletown, just across the strait from here? Your uncle can see your place…”
“*My* place?” he questioned, then was gone.
I took off my hat and scratched my head.
I sat there for a long time afterwards reading a book about squirrels.
Lambs
Teebestia kindly and graciously led him to the correct entrance for The Underground in the Lapara part of town, not Astarte. In the process of crossing from the latter sim to the former, Paul became a black man again much to the astonishment of the lawyer lady, but definitely still American. “Water,” he states, standing before the portal. “I wonder why they decided to drown The Underground. Did they want to drowned out *us*? Our voices?” He was considerably more lucid now because of the changeover. It is easier getting away with being high when you’re white than black. Prison awaits for many of his present hue. “Is this a prison as well?” Paul ponders, thinking along the same lines. He lets the dark waters take him once more.
A faster moving train trolley soon comes up from behind and then passes through him.
He watches as it continues rattling down the tracks. When he reaches the main underground station the stopped trolley is still there, but, as usual, with no passengers getting on or off. Yes, in the main this is a ghost train, like Second Lyfe has been ghosted overall. Including Collagesity. Only the Linden wood saves that similarly aged berg from complete extinction, a life support. Here it seems to be something else.
Paul decides to hop on board the train to take a look inside but quickly stands up and exits after it begins moving again. He had been warned by his faith long ago not to ride the fun fun trolley into The Void looming directly ahead — or anywhere else for that matter. “Walking is the light, the way,” the holey book says. “Worship not the road nor the rail but the path itself, always expanding always contracting. This is the path of the heart.”
He thinks back to Teebestia with the exposed heart in The Above now, already far north of here in his mind. *She* led me to the correct path this time. She is a manifestation of spirit.
And then he found another gift on the people-less platform as he walked back to rest his heart a bit. Another tale.
“Grassland,” he said, looking at the cover. “The story of Grassland!”
Filed under ***collages 2d, **VIRTUAL SL, 0005, 0411, Bogota, Bogota Proper, Heterocera, Lapara
Prerousing
“Do you not know me?” asked Mary/Chuckles to The Musician Sikul Himakt.
“No. I do not know you.”
“How about now?” Mary/Chuckles says beside the window behind him. He turns and examines.
“No. I still do not know who you are. I will probably never know who you are, no matter how many places you manifest or what clothes you wear.”
“Hmph,” she exhales. “Let’s see about this one.”
“Hi Osborne. What’s shak’n?”
Bingo, she thought.
—–
Sikul Himakt enters the village at the top of the steps. Hmph, I guess it hasn’t changed all *that* much, he thought. At least there’s the general store still, the hub of it all. He walks over to it and gets a surprise.
“Welcome to the first town meeting, Musician,” states Morris in a level voice. “You’re just in time.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0004, 0411, Muff-Bermingham-
VW(X)
“Yes come in. Quickly, quickly,” another Keat Owens implored from within the fairy house. “There’s mysteries to solve. No doddling dear — there’s been enough of that. Well, come in,” he said again. “Leave the golf club outside, yes.”
Old Mabel goes up the stairs and then leans the iron gently against the house just outside its railing. Taking one last glance over at Keat Owens Joker, she passes through the door she just opened.
—–
“Yes, well…?” a similarly rushed Baker Bloch asks later at the Joker’s Wild Bar. Furry Karl was still under the weather. Rhoda remained the bartender for now.
“We stared at the Nautilus City map for a while. The position of Doreena, Yvonne, and, um, this new person or entity we haven’t heard about before named Anton, were marked with red pins. Keat Owens Jack, as we’ll call him…”
“… because his suit is like Jack’s across the way…”
“Right, Baker Bloch. So this Keat Owens Jack then says Doreena has unexpectedly changed her name and appearance, and that this is more work of Mid Hazel the witch. Her “do’n’s” is how he put it. And Spider was in the corner of the small room beside us; forgot to mention that. He’s still spouting out or uttering or speaking those 4 numbers over and over, like you described before when he was with Carrcassonnee.”
“Slightly before your time here in Collagesity, yes. Interesting. When did you wake up?”
“I was just staring at the pin representing Anton — more at my eye level — and a picture of what you call a Volkswagen Beatle at the bottom of the sea entered my mind. I stared at the completely algae covered car for quite some time. It was sad. Then I was jolted back to reality by the start of ‘Revolution No. 1’ on my player. That’s from the ‘White Album’. The more graceful ‘Long Long Long’ precedes it there. Then afterwards we have ‘Honey Pie’ and the horn laden ‘Savoy Truffle’.”
Old Mabel’s really getting into this Beetles research, Baker then thinks. Too absorbed? Well, she’s preparing for the next Table meeting, which is scheduled for tomorrow night if Wheeler can pry herself away from her new infatuation — her New Island. That seems to be a danger: Wheeler may be imprisoned by this new threat named Mid Hazel forever and ever on that island. Baker then noticed Old Mabel is staring at him.
“Thinking about other things?” she asks.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0003, 0411, Heterocera, Nautilus, Nautilus City, New Island, Rubi
Sunklands 