Tvin Tovn, neither here nor there.
Tvin Town at best.
She thought of another answer while chopping pepper for the big meal. George was coming over! Or was it Arthur? Anyway, she thought of this: I *love*, that George’s backwards guitar was destroyed in the Moray Docks explosion when that new Tar Guit appeared over top of it. BOOOM! she recalled joyously. That can replace the “resourceful” answer, #4 I believe.
“She’s gone,” Baumbeer speaks later to Newt about the poor girl’s mind. “But I know where she is.”
“I’ll go see her,” replies the father not father-in-law. “No need to bring the boy in the picture,” he says half to himself. “He’s already heartbroken enough.”
“Let me know if I can help more,” spoke Baumbeer into the receiver to finish. He hangs it up. On a clothes hanger.
Newt rings Shelley up. I mean, he calls her. Since the wedding is off and he’s no longer the Best Man. Thus the meal.
“Newt!” she modifies again, moving to the cucumber or tomato next. “The father-in-law.” Her face squinches up. “Father *in-law*?”
They meet at the same gazebo in the sim’s corner. Property called Sim’s Corner. The Void’s energy was just loosened enough so he could reach over and straighten up the blouse on her shoulder. Pepper t-shirt no. 1 she wore now. Small successes before bigger ones, he thinks, staring at the daughter he didn’t know he had until the end of the last photo-novel, 34 in [delete rest of sentence].
“Wheeler says to say hello,” he starts again, trying to jolt more memories. Does she remember the spaceship? Of course not, Newt thinks. Too young. Shelley says say hello to Wheeler back, even though she doesn’t know who that is. She’s trying to mask her big big problem. And where’s George? Or was it Arthur?
“Your… *mother*,” Newt says to this, understanding she doesn’t recognize the name. “George — you know George, right?”
“Georges,” she says, which Newt lets slide.
“Anyway, *your* George says you look a lot like her. You even have some of the same tattoos.” Kind of odd, Newt thinks here but, again, lets it slide; chalks it up as another disturbance of The Void.
“You’re batty I tell you. *Batty*!”
“Out of my way, whoever you are! *Whatever* you are!”
“W-where you going, dude? Nothing left but *me*.” She starts dancing and dancing with her weapon. Hypnotizing. Just like on the bus. It was her.
Shelley wakes up. What did I do to *Johnny*, she immediately thinks. We go back to that point. That’s where she began to lose it. The baby. My baby!
She was the baby.
The door to the place in the sewer was open, unlike before. Now casually dressed Roberts sat on one of the reddish chairs within, facing another. Franklin? If John L. Brown is such, and perhaps he is. He got Jem high as a kite with the Duck dope over in Ontario to save or at least extend her short simulacrum life, and everyone knows *Benjamin* Franklin is an expert kite flyer, perhaps a drug user himself? Firesign Theatre seems to think so, at least in one strong probable reality. And besides, John’s already called himself Benjamin Franklin for just those very reasons in part 01. So there’s that.
Or Franklin could actually be Johnny Black who just arrived, since namesake Johnny Cash, Man in Black, was famously married in Franklin KY to June Carter in 1968 after getting his license over the line in Tennessee, probably passing through Black Jack south of Franklin in the effort, shared between the two states — yet another black then. And a separate community named Black Jack exists just to the north of Franklin, firmly in Kentucky in its case. Speaking of cases, pilot Thomas Mantell was born in this same Franklin and very mysteriously plummeted to his death just outside the small KY town in ’48 while chasing what he and others identified as a bonafide UFO, very near Black Jack and the Tennessee line again, even though he lived in a different part of the state at the time. So he is another aspect of Franklin definitely, representing the uroboros where cradle links up and even eats grave, causing a perpetual loop.
Roberts invited Johnny Black in, seeing him space out thinking about some of these same associations. John L. Brown then waved high as well. Appropriate. Someone was also in the pool ahead of him, although he couldn’t tell what or who. Perhaps green? Oh, and when he made his way inside and stood between them, he was standing right smack dab in the middle of what townspeople called The Anomaly, thought to be gotten rid of. Nope. Just showed up in a different place and a slightly different form.
One thing we know is that the green thing in the pool *isn’t* Norris, who is instead dead behind swifter Johnny in the sewer, victim of a zombie attack it appears or something. We wish him well in the afterlife.
Oh look. It *was* Norris in the pool — *just* formed. Another Franklin! And perhaps the truest one.
The waterfall was relaxing. That’s why I decided to choose this cabin over the others, including the one where I could chop wood. Oil heated but that’s okay — I could use (cleaner) kerosene. Jem should be home soon. Out pretending she lives in the big treehouse I suppose; answering old phones, playing with someone else’s computer, overlapping screens on top of theirs. It’s all good fun, though. There’s no no trespassing signs around here. Eveything is open, all the way from Towerboro to these neighboring woods. And no dummies to worry about either here — that’s a big advantage over town. I can focus on Jem and Jem alone. Especially after Tessie (our Tessa) left for the castle to find that book. I wish her luck!
Water sounds; I can get sleep for a change.
“Minus 125,” he cussed mildly downstairs after a nap. “Out of ice cream.” Oh well, he thinks. I can make some later out back with the cream and the strawberries here. Prefer chocolate, though, or vanilla at the least. Maybe run into town and get some. But the dummies…
“Tired of your book?”
“No. It’s just I’m a little depressed.”
“Because… didn’t you wonder where I was today?”
“I figured you were at the treehouse. Pretending we’re better off than we are.”
“I was in *town*.” How blind could this bastard boy be? she thought.
“Town, eh? Oh yeah. I think you mentioned that.”
“I *did* mention that. Do you remember where I was?”
“You said ‘town’.”
“No. Where I *was* in town.”
“No I don’t think you did. *Oh*”, he realized. “The *hair*.”
“Yes, Bob cut a lot of it off.” Finally! she thought. “Wellll?”
He wanted to go into town to get some proper ice cream and Jem came back with a doo that looked like a big scoop of vanilla was dropped on her head. What could he say? “The bob looks great on you, honey.” He tried to reach over and stroke it for reinforcement but Jem knocked his hand away.
Later we find him chopping wood at that nearby cabin. At least he has himself tonight. How was I to know that Bob was the hairdresser instead of the style, he thinks. I need to pay attention better.
The next night he tried to make up but she wouldn’t have any of it. “I’m going to go see John tomorrow,” she said, her mind set. She needed to find out about that duck. Finally!
At least I can move back into this cabin and listen to the waterfall and stop chopping wood, he thinks. Wait… *whaat*? “John??” he parroted. But maybe it was another hairstylist or a hairstyle at the least.
No. It was John.
“I worry about Blue Rose Thorn, Mistress. I know he has become our friend Blue Bird but how does he change back?”
“Simple, my lovely Venus,” purred The Mistress, her great length folded into the rocking chair on the porch of their retirement home. “He has to find a plane that isn’t crashed and jump out of it, danger abated. That way he won’t need the wings any more. That way our friend Blue Bird can be returned to us, and Blue Rose Thorn to himself. That way…”
“… he can find his way back to being Jeffrey Phillips,” guessed Venus on the 1/2 Bed.
“Perhaps,” she answered, and unclasped her wing-like hands while settling back. The pink parrot behind her squawked softly; the first to hear. “That is not of our jurisdiction. We must first get to the Town on the Mount in the Air and see what happens.”
They sat quiet for a while, pondering all of this. Then: small rustlings in the jungle to their left. “Over there,” Mistress proclaimed, the first to see. “The future is now(!).”
“How?” Slack jawed Venus saw too. A familiar shape had emerged from the tropical leaves and bushes and walked toward a chair marking the edge of their land.
“We will let her answer that. Blue Bird!” she called over. “Come out of the shadows. Explain your presence!”
Where to start? How about at the beginning which is also the end. Aloha. Could be a good name for the island itself.
He stops a bit up the beautifully landscaped path to listen in on two men, a couple apparently, bickering about a woman. One has a deep voice that is also, paradoxically, baby-like. The other speaks in trills and chirps. He recalls he did the same when he first lost his head.
He is truly hidden this time, although just barely. And the men? Nudists. Big Red and Blue Jay Wade, back to make an important point about wearing the proper clothes.* They hadn’t got the hang of the place yet.
* Note: the part of Blue Jay Wade is now played by Ted Sargent instead of Ted York.
(to be continued?)
First: The MastHead sim directly above The Measure, with only Heaven’s Sense between. Baker Bloch teleports into the center and discovers an interesting triangle of avatars which he is the apex of in the below photo. Then he essentially becomes a white star of this triangle as another, still irresolved avatar beams in…
… who turns out to have very exaggerated or distorted (naked) features. I am reminded here of a double star *barely* resolvable with a naked eye, say.
Interesting that Hucka D. spied a mysterious triangle of white stars inside a translucent blue cube in the sky back in novel 15. Hucka D. with DOTS again, just like in that last post here.
Now: The Measure. Yes all its peculiar, angular patternings found in pre photo-novel days are still present and seemingly locked in, including the Double Dots? Checking… We can see so much more if we get rid of the water, drying the sim out.
“The M’s, two squares (at the bottom of the above snapshot) with a void square between them: obviously The Measure and The Masthead. The shapes around them must represent the Nautilus continent or archipelago in some form.”
“In some fashion,” Baker Bloch rewords, just like in olden days. Hucka is back!
Detail of Double Squares. They’re not exact duplicates of each other. Lisa V. speculates they might stand for Second Life sims.
Cool. Smart Lisa!
Yes, the Double Dots are still there.
“To continue, here’s another peculiarity, Hucka D. The square *representing* the sim The Measure — within The Measure — lies at 214, 107, 1, which means it’s 214 meters from the top of the sim and 107 from the (left) side (and 1 up from the bottom of the sea floor). 214 is double 107.
“The ‘dot’ here is at 228/114, along the same line across the sim, then, where the height within the sim is double the length within the sim. This is the last bit of dark surface you encounter when walking this line in an eastern direction.
“To the west, you find this larger dark place encompassing 200, 100, 1. Whaddaya think? 200-214-228, all highlighted by dark places in a row.
“And then at 186/93: more darkness encountered. But then that’s it for that pattern within the sim. Again: we are measuring in The Measure based upon a square representing The Measure. Feels like it means *something*.
“Pointillistically, it’s all aligned on that dot.”
One year and 2 1/2 months. Herbert can do it.
Jacob I. had fallen asleep once more at the Prog Rock Museum located on the neck of Rooster’s Peninsula. Herbert’s neck hurt again… Anastasia, he thinks. Alysha. Things have changed. She gave him a ring and he gave her one back. It was the only way to end the madness.
He thinks of the Diagonal across the Chalet sub-continent of Bellisaria, as it’s called by many if not most. Snowball in Hell at the center, but heading to Scratchy — reality. Not in a Second Lyfe any longer. Retirement. Wholeness; fulfillment. Perspective.
Collagesity will remain… across the Diagonal and into the Great Beyond at the end. I will not keep Shelley’s Castle on the peninsula, although it’s a perfect *perfect* fit. Hmm.
NOPE. Collagesity should remain.
He extends his draw distance and spies the castle in the distance. It’s the wrong one, but that’s okay. It’s fitting only 1 remains.
Buildy Bob assumes a cone position atop the ice cream truck. “You don’t belong the f-ck here, I’m sensing.”
“No,” she stated plainly. BB was about the only character here she trusted. Crude and rude, true, but that showed his true colors, rainbow exposed. Diversity. No white out.
“Where’re you from, then, Pinhead?” He’d been calling her Pinhead ever since he saw diminutive Mary PipPIN land on her HEAD from the perspective of his roaming camera eye. Most, maybe all of the other characters in this here Land o’ Dreams don’t roam like that; stay fixed in their position inside their head and body. Not BB. He wanted to know the bigger perspective.
“I landed in a balloon,” she decided to say. “From Kansas,” she almost followed, but then remembered Omaha was actually in
Oklahoma Nebraska. Or was it? “Nebraska I’m from,” she finalized. “World’s Fair.” State fair she meant there but she let the stated mistake stand. She should have thought things through sooner, maybe written down her lines beforehand. At least she had the (built in) black hair for the ears. And where were her ears? There.
“Oh we’ll get Oz don’t you worry,” he said a little later about another potential assimilation, using “we” in an ironic sense. Why do they put up with him? she wondered again. Allow a breathing, walking Achilles Heel right in their midst?
“It’s too early,” she corrected. “The (Baum) books are copyright free. Plumly is different.”
“Don’t start with me about *Ruth*.” And where *was* Ruth, BB thought bitterly, looking around as if she could appear magically in their immediate vicinity. And perhaps she could. This was a Magic Kingdom after all; anything goes, as long as you worship the White. “Have you seen Willy, yet?” he then asked, thinking of the only other interesting *deviation* from this parade of madness. “Riding a steamboat. But I think he’s changed his name to Kelly to protect the innocent and all. Which means him — primarily. And me I suppose. He’s a pretty decent fellow, but scared and nervous, as he should be. They can’t fully assimilate him because he represents some kind of *ur* character, a primordial man-mouse of some sort. Don’t ask me how to explain all the details of it. It’s just they can’t fully *touch* him. He remains both black and white. Pansy knows.”
Pansy, thought Alysha here. I haven’t heard that name for a long long time. Not since childhood.
(to be continued)