Category Archives: 04

the present

—–

“I think this case is wrapped up, Pretty. *Petty*.” He turns red again. “Pretty much wrapped up,” he tried to cover himself.

“Thanks Officer Glammerpuss.”

The place will have to be quarantined for a week because of the moondust but the business should be able to reopen then.”

“Cathy will be pleased.”

“Yes.”

“Did you get all the rocks?”

“We think so. There’s one that looks like Neil Armstrong, then one like Buzz, then the other one — I assume it’s the 3rd.”

“Collins,” answered Petty to this, due to go on his other job in 2 hours and don a chef’s hat while ditching the inspector’s coat, no rest for this busybody. He reached into it to withdraw a match, ready to relight his current stogie, 8th of the night. At one point there was even 2 in his mouth at once. so excited he was about the news. Queen! Coming to Hardrock. So says Glammerpuss, the big, well, he just loves Queen. They both do! Ah heck, might as well try. Officer seems to be hinting around.

“Listen, Glammerpuss… Chuck.”

“Tim. You call me Tim.”

“Listen, Chuck. I was wondering…”

“Queen?” It just came out of his mouth automatically. Petty turned to stare into his eyes. Chief Wigwam walked up, interrupting the moment as he was suppose to. He gazed at the ribbon on the wrapped up door, symbolic of the case itself. He thought about procedure, getting ducks lined up in a row.

“Better start the paperwork on this Glammerpuss while the memories are fresh. Petty — aren’t you due to present me with a fresh dove omelet in, say (he checks his watch), 2 hours?”

“2 1/2,” states the chef-inspector to this. “Gotta warm up the oven first. Say, Wigwam, can you give us a moment. There’s just one wrinkle on the case we have to iron out.”

“It’s Collins,” spoke Wigwam. “The one they always forget the name of.”

A small smile breaks on Petty’s face. “No, not that, Chief. Something else. Just… give us a moment.”

“Oh alright. See you when the sun comes up. Glammerpuss — paperwork.” He walks away.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0407, Lower Austra, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus

Pack

“In-depth; I don’t know the meaning of that. Is that the same as in deep?”

“Oooooooo. Looks like Alice is in *trouble* again.”

“I don’t like the looks of him, Richard.”

“Noo,” he agreed, daring to move his shoulders a bit in the recognition. “Looks like my mother.”

“Another coat check, over.” Reply.

“Check. Checking the overcoat.”

But Agent Orangetang found that he too could not hardly move a muscle in this place and had to send in his partner Boris who was a spider and undetected and perhaps undetectable in the Big Freeze. The coat check would take all night, and by that time Miss In-depth and her accomplice Mrs. Ordinary had long fled the scene, taking the goodies with them.

“Get my gum,” spoke Sarah only 1/2 to Rosalyn. “I’m going in.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0406, Maebaleia/Satori

looking toward BoShek again

“Vast swaths of abandoned land in the middle of continents, Hucka D. I’m not sure the study of Peakology is even valid any longer.”

“Better stick with Nautilus,” said the Hucka D. who was not Hucka D. if still yellow. Square. “Bahahahahaha.”

—–

One of the people at the bar lit up. One of the people at the bar spoke. “I know I’m not your type.” (long pause). “I realize the kids may be involved.” (long pause) “You’d give that up for me?” (long pause) “Sally doesn’t have to know.” (long pause) “Eliminate the middle man, right.”

She gets up, this Mrs. Ordinary, and moves 10 feet down the bar, which is further than anyone else here could.

“I have a house and home, you see.” (long pause) “I’m a better person than you.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0405, Corsica, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, Southwest

1st NODAL

Peakology, Hucka D. I’m becoming interested again.”

“Corsica,” Hucka D. uttered to this. “Corsica Corsica Corsica!” But it wasn’t Hucka D. Instead: someone else yellow, someone else who wasn’t who they seemed to be. Square. Wearing pants.

—–

“So when did you start smoking again, Petty? It’s disgusting. And stand back from me why don’t you? This is not your scene.”

“*All* mysteries are my scene,” the confident chef-inspector replied, puffing even more rapidly. Smoke gets in his eyes but he isn’t bothered. Point is: they’re in his as well. Petty wasn’t going to budge from this spot; he was as if pettrified. This might not be pretty; this might get ugly.

“Listen, *Pettry*.”

Officer Glammerpuss stopped. Did he just call the inspector pretty? Close enough. His face turned red. Love. But also smoke.

There were a lot of things going on here at once. Racism, social inequality, sexual issues, rise of the machine age, to mention just some I’ve spotted so far.

And kitty kats.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0404, Corsica, Maebaleia/Satori, Southwest

00360403

2 helpful links I’ve found in the past 2 days.

https://www.byrdie.com/how-to-be-creative-5095410

https://www.loudcoffeepress.com/post/theory-of-obscurity-the-artist-in-relative-isolation

I can look at this playfully. A man (or woman) writes a story about a journey to The Moon that’s pretty much a straightforward success w/ friends, family and public. The second, which involves a journey inside the Earth this time, is also viewed favorably, albeit with less enthusiasm. You’ve done it once, you’ve had your time in the limelight, others might say here. Or they may invoke elements of imposter syndrome — oh you’re just like so-and-so; *love* his or her stuff (i.e., you are a reflection of his or her greatness). The writer reassesses — there were elements of the second that didn’t follow the pattern of success of the first. He (or she) could then isolate these elements as best as possible: and either eliminate them or accentuate them in the next work. 3rd book, fork in the road. One 3rd book, the elimination novel let’s call it, marks a return to the form of the first in the public’s eye. Let’s say we have our protagonist go back to The Moon for it. *Love* The Moon, others might say (friends, family, public) — just like so-and-so’s work, they might echo. Second 3rd book, the accentuation novel, goes down a rabbit hole, knowing approval from others would not be forthcoming (but still maybe putting blinders on and hoping for the best). The writer sticks to the surface of the Earth, deals with *real* issues he or she sees around them, explores them in depth; rips off masks so precious and valued to people of the time. Could be racism, social inequality, sexual issues, rise of the machine age, to name a couple that come to mind. True to form, most, perhaps even everyone, turns away from the work and the writer, urges him (or her) to get a *real* job (you’ll never be so-and-so). The 3rd book may not even be published or publishable (in its age). Yet this person knows it’s their best and moves forward, out of the spotlight now, even if he (or she?) has to shovel coal for a living. The 4th is even better and expands on some of the best bits of the 3rd. The writer is truly learning to write. The 5th expands on the 4th. The 6th expands on the 5th… (if he or she gets this far, poverty perhaps taking its inevitable toll).

People do not want to see the reality inside them. Fear dominates. Preservation of a mask self that is in denial of the Great Inside. And just plain fear of the new — we all have it. Some also fear a return to the old. Fear all around.

Here I’m thinking more 19th Century than 20th or 21st but maybe I still have a point, hmm.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0403

trance dance

Ted just liked to watch. He told his crooked blackbird on his shoulder to simmer down as the lights dimmed and the band took the stage. With the dancer. Light of His 2nd Lyfe. Why he was in Flamerider in the first place, although it was always nice to visit with his old friend Sissy. He pondered again a possible connection between her and another Sissy he knew over in Comma Islands, the one who lived on an actual top of one of Corsica’s famous standalone granite peaks instead of just below one — in the shadow of one — like here.

Then, surprising him, Sissy came out from behind the bar and crawled into the cage beside him, starting to gyrate herself to the beginning trance music. What was he thinking? There *was* no dancer onstage. Just here. His eyes had been opened. But to… what?

“Squawk!”

“Shhh, simmer down, I said.” But Blackey 02 had spotted it first. Another caged bird emerging from the shoe, a parrot it appeared from his angle, pink in color again. Like Sissy; the dancing had caused this.

The cage began to expand, soon filling up space itself.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0402, Comma Islands, Corsica, Northwest

3 clicks to the east

Sissy Bird Cage felt like she was in the right place (red shoes), even though she didn’t know how she got here. She remembered dying. Or some part of her dying. A business, yes. Heavily identified with, so much so that she felt it was an extension of her body, her mind, her soul. It shared her same name. Her blood coursed through its veins.

Over in Mortons Gap. I believe they made it into a Saki Bar after she left but she hadn’t been back to check. Too painful.

She remained on Corsica. In fact, on the same peninsula that they called The Trunk in olden days, when the original Ant Castle was still around. Eleph Trunk, some called it. Not Elephant. Not after the Ant was extracted from the end, set up in his (or her) own castle right at the very tip of the nose of the thing.

She’s looking for a place to apply for a job. She’d heard in Flamerider here there were secret jobs, up in the air above the green and granite landscape. Ted had told her about it — said she might fit in well there. She recalled all this now. After the shock of transitioning wore off.

“Anyone hiring ’round here?” she asked the broken doll tending a bar inside the red shoe place.

The doll suddenly fell to pieces. Looks like she’s found her new position, quick and easy (home). Slowly but surely, this becomes reality and the other a dream.

—–

“When I first showed up, Ted, she was standing right on this spot. Right here. I had to clean up all the mess and parts but it was worth it, problem solved.” She turned.

“Fascinating, Sissy,” said her current customer, use to the story. Maybe even kind of sick of the story. “Just a beer today.” He extended bills across the counter.

“Your money is no good here Ted and you know it.” It was the least she could do.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0401, Corsica, Northwest

nailed it

It was her father, Newt, and her mother, Wheeler, with herself in the middle. All dead, all ended, the Ur family complete.

It was her brother, it was her sister.

It was herself.

Next was a church with red doors, a cross over them and at the top of course. This was The Cross itself. Who should lay beside Shelley in her grave to be with her forever and ever and ever. Was it George? Arthur? Even that new stalker prevert Biff Carter, perhaps named after a detergent but perhaps not? This was the place they get married. This is the place they get buried.

Next: It was a long way up; another ladder.

Many spirits requested her presence.

The Void has spoken.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0417, HANA LEI, Sand Springs

the tale continues

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0416, HANA LEI, Sand Springs

next please

Where’s Ruby Roo going?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0415, HANA LEI, Sand Springs