Category Archives: Google Street View

00480312

When I beamed down to Green Thumb Rd. the sign instead indicated a Green Thumb *St.* And we were in the wrong state for the location. Should have been (next to Hills Hill and Dr. Tom’s Park in) Arkansas. And I noticed a number of queer doublings when tracking around the overall village in Street View, this Burna of western Kentucky. Or was in Burirna? See what I mean?

House with double peaked porch next door to this service station with the doubled up letters in its name. Related to the 90 degree turning porch of Fieldon IL from section 01 of this here blog-novel, 48 in some kind of seemingly never ending series?

And from the same area: Is it Jamieson like the hill or Jameson like the road and other cemetery in the immediate vicinity?

Hard to tell from the sign once more.

Or perhaps the extra vowel — ‘i” again after all — is actually pointing back to Starfield’s Jemison planet from a couple of posts ago.

At any rate, better get back there; do some more digging around (TBC).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0048, 0312, Arkansas, Google Street View, Kentucky, Starfield

00480307

He wanted that dress but his mama wouldn’t let him have it. This is Jemison after all, where a man is a man and a woman is a woman and neither the two shall mix. At least in the same person.

So later he went off and invented his *own* Jemison. A whole planet’s worth of it. Worth it? (500 million) Maybe.

But doesn’t its capital and largest metropolis look like my Collagesity from a distance? Kindof queer.


Collagesity Rubi, c. 2014

Now where’s that man-woman who started it all inside?

(TBC)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0307, Alabama, Google Street View, Heterocera, Rubi^, Starfield

00480203

Turns out there was a Locust Street here in Fieldon and then another Locust St. in Fidelity, its opposite on the Illinois circle pictured in that last post. The only shared street name between the two small towns. When I “beamed down” through Google Street View to the north end of the latter, I immediately found this.

Was it as easy as that? Yellow Guy referenced, who was born and raised in this very state? I traced the internet company’s origins back to O’Fallon a little over an hour’s drive away. Nothing to do with my old friend. But still the, aherm, *connection* seemed pertinent.

Another of these promo signs off Locust St., Fidelity style.


I decided to recheck Locust St., Fieldon in Google Street View to see if I could spot any additional oddities cropping up since my last scan several years back, just like I’d tracked up and down its double in Fidelity today. Nothing really jumped out at me except this house which seemed to have turned 90 degrees between 2021 and 2024. Is this normal? I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for doing this, right?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0048, 0203, Google Street View, Illinois

00470601 (The Hmm)

“I live in a very white house starting with a white roof you can clearly see from the air — why I made it that way.

“Um, white ceiling fans…

“… white power outlets.

“White paint all around. Every room, every piece of furniture, every piece of art even. I like white. And, hopefully, my family likes it *too*. They haven’t complained *so* far (laugh).”

“Soo, ahem, back to The Hmm.”

“Oh yeah (laugh). The Hmm. Well, we logically suspected the new gas compressor station across the rails — really white buildings over there and I respect that but, you know (laugh), I had to get to the bottom of this thing (!). So I went over there one day, complained that we were hearing that dad blasted hmm in my house over 400 yards away, and it seemed, well, it seemed to be affecting our health (!). And, you know, could they DO something about it? I was sure they were the culprit, the source of it all. And you know what they said, they blamed everything else. Electrical lines, the railroad, water pumps in a nearby pond, Interstate 84. Could be any of these… and more. But not *gas lines*. And they laughed right in my face! (laugh). And me a retired mechanical engineer. Heck, I probably knew how their operations worked better than 80% of them over there. Not as much difference between machines and chemicals as you’d think.”

“Understandable that you were irritated,” I tried to empathize. “Is that when you decided to move away? To someplace new?”

“Well, the wife and I thought, maybe we should try out a new town to get away from the sound. ‘New town’ we kept saying to each other when discussing it — over and over. And then it hit us: Newtown. The town right next door to us. We could start new; fresh. It seemed *fate*. I told her, honey, our house is just off the Newtown topo map, which I knew from my hmm research in the local area. But shortly I realized the gas compressor station was actually just *on* the Newtown map, which seemed to be a bad sign. No, the hoped for sanctuary turned out to be *much* much further away, not one but *several* oceans away. It all started that very next day, when I found the drawing of the woman running on the beach at a Newtown flea market while we were checking out the place. Giselle, ha, was actually a bit jealous of my obsession with the drawing, with *her*. It was the whiteness, you see.”

“We’re talking about New *Island* here, right?” I suppressed a joke about him skipping right over New York.

“Yeah. Our brief dream of living in Newtown only pointed to this actual new place where we could truly escape the problems with The Hmm. By being immersed in it!”

“You found the source.”

“Indeed we did (!!).”

“Not gas lines?”

“(Laugh) No, but that’s part of it too. It all came from that novel. By the girl.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0601, Connecticut, Google Street View, New Island^

00470504

I stayed at the Roadway Inn in Big Water, Utah for the night. I knew this was the place to be when spotting these male and female cowboy silhouettes framing a red rock outside Room 605, 200 meters (or yards) effectively reduced to zero. Zeroing in, I took it.

The next day I set out for Bryce Canyon not far north of here. I intended to become one of those flying squirrels and survey the whole place by air. I succeeded, though not in the main task.

Eventually I found the actual Red Rock but it took a while. Bret helped. Said it’d been at least several years since he was up there with his ailments and all but we eventually stumbled upon the approx. 20 foot long stone at the top of a canyon cascade. Red Rock Rest, he joked about the name and suddenly became sad. I in contrast was overjoyed as hell.

Strangest thing. We saw a rabbit when walking around it for the first time which then hopped away, leaving what appeared to be its own shadow for a second. Then the “shadow” itself became animated and scurried away, being revealed as what seemed to be a large rat by its shape and motion. We saw no other wildlife while there besides birds. And these two seen were superimposed as one when first encountered. We took it as a sign. Only later did we find out the meaning.

Bret (and Sooki) soon gave me the nickname The Fly because of my prowess in the sky and it stuck like paper. Later when the newspaper articles stopped being published it changed to Airey for reasons unknown to me. In honor of someone I gathered but no one ever gave any details. A “nobody” is all they said about the person. Unlike me.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0504, Google Street View, New Mexico, Utah

00470313

“I always wanted to break down the 4th wall,” Alice responded when I asked her if she liked her new home in the woods. “Now I can speak directly to you, the observer! We have no barriers between us.”

“Ka,” exuded Ka to her left, also joyful. “Skwi,” squeaked Skwi in glee to her right.  If Mistress Alice is okay with this then her pet cat and squirrel respectively are too. Let the Flathardt experience commence!

Oh. I guess I should explain where we are. It’s a bit difficult. Let’s just move around and see who else is here and I’m sure everything will become crystal clear as soon as possible.

“Where do you want the Big Arm,” issued Ted the dump truck driver, tired from a long journey across upper Woodlawndia to get here.

“Just over there. Beside the Big Banana,” said pointing Pinky, sort of a manager here I suppose and dependent on outside help until the village gets its own fleet of trucks and drivers. “Ellie, give him a, er, *hand* if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing,” the elephant said after they all had a chuckle over the joke, even tired Ted, although he laughed the least. Still about 5 seconds.

Not really becoming clear yet… oh, here’s another group to investigate.

“This giant frog skin is soo smooth and colorful,” gushes Pantomime Penny to her father or perhaps her brother.

“Don’t touch it,” he says down to her. “Warts,” he summarizes. I was thinking poison and I believe by the look the lamb is giving him she did too.

Well, let’s just back up, zoom out. Out out out.

There we are. That grove of green pine trees, with undergrowth consisting only of rhododendron which you can’t really see from the air. And, most remarkable, despite this being the top of a hill, all land in this grove is completely and utterly flat. Hence the name Flathead, as in flat head of a hill. Plus that whole Montana thing we’ll get back to in a while.

The toy avatars that are already here debated whether to name their new community the same as the hill, Flathead, or instead go with Flatheart, meaning the heart of the hill since their community is much smaller than Flathead itself and in the basic center or “heart” of everything. At least in their eyes. They settled on a portmanteau of sorts: Flathardt, 1/2 head 1/2 heart (kind of). And one of the more vocal citizens at the meeting was a big Dale Earnhardt fan and owned a #8 toy race car in his honor (see right of frog above). So that probably played a role in the compromise name too.

What next for Flathardt? I’m guessing toy train tracks, since I’ll be the one hauling them up here and laying them down. I wanted to bring the tracks up today but I couldn’t find them in the junk heap that is our basement.  So I settled for some other toys. Hopefully tomorrow, then. Weather should be okay again.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0047, 0313, Blue Mountain, Flathardt, Google Street View, Toy Avatars, Yards Mountain

00460103 (core issue)

The building where our Peter Bergmann, with two n’s, stayed the last nights of his life was called, generically enough, the Sligo City Hotel, soon changed to The Address but with the same one. Interesting that a sign pointing in its direction on the other side the street from the bus stop — where it just so happened Bergmann wrote his mystery word or sentence or whatever he subsequently ripped up — is positioned directly above that hand-with-pen in this June 2018 Streetview screenshot.

Switching back to the 2024 Streetview photos of that mural, the most recent as I write this, we see the pen pointing directly to a bicycle in the parking lot before it from this perspective, specifically its seat. Personal sync here: the wife and I were just playing around with adjusting a bike seat at a local gym the day I found this pen in a Sligo mural pointing to same. I instantly recognized the connection. I’d started going to the gym, and taking up stationary biking in particular, to attempt to heal a fairly long lingering back issue, longer than usual in my history of such ailments. Set your rear down here to get healed, the mural seemed to indicate in a queer triangle of associations. And as I write this, the back seems to be healing up. I can move on — by staying stationary? Also time to get on the move again, as in moving outdoors from the gym.

But not before strengthening the CENTER.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0046, 0103, Europe, Google Street View

00460102

The pen he used to sign in to the hotel registry produced not his actual name, though, but a pseudonym, not quite a pen name since, as far as I understand, he wasn’t an author on the sly, although he did write down something else later on at the town’s bus station and then promptly rip it up, in all likelihood not even classifiable as a tiny poem so brief was the scribbling. Peter Bergmann was not the real name of the person standing before the hotel clerk jotting that name down. Nor was his address “Ainstettersn 15, 4472, Wien (Vienna), Austria”, which he also claimed through the same pen on the same piece of paper. Instead here we have someone who wanted to remain anonymous, bound to perform a task that would complete a life no one in the public eye would perhaps ever find out about, set aside these final 4 days. Beginning here — actually beginning in Derry where local CCTV footage also recorded him entering the bus that would take him to Sligo 135 kilometers away in the west of Ireland.

Peter Bergmann never existed, or, better, never existed as the person who came to Sligo, Ireland from his native land to die. And he made darn well sure no one would ever know his real identity.

What happened next? Among the most interesting events: 13 trips out of the hotel carrying the same purple bag which left full but came back, well, not even empty but even visible.

Purple. Hiding something. Keep that in mind.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0046, 0102, Europe, Google Street View

00450603

Persimmon. A seed that grew into a tree. A tree whittled down to make a club. Woods (Tiger).

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wood_(golf)

Woods are so called because, traditionally, they had a club head that was made from hardwood, generally persimmon,[1] but modern clubs have heads made from metal, for example titanium, or composite materials, such as carbon fiber

Persimmon can also be whittled down to >sim< (Juho). Or in this case, visa versa.

In another, completely different game, a Woodman working for Tyger (Claws (gang)) with an actual last name of Forrest.

https://cyberpunk.fandom.com/wiki/Oswald_Forrest

Just some random, scattered association, but maybe soon to be more.

https://golfweek.usatoday.com/story/sports/golf/2014/08/20/tiger-woods-golf-equipment-nike-golf-irons/76971654007/

Woods: I’m part of the older generation that grew up playing with balata balls, and part of the last generation that played persimmon.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0603, C2077, Georgia, Google Street View, J-Town, Jeogeot, Juho, Nawt Vaya

00450511 (De Mosbulten)

Okay, better zoom out and see where I am from this tip.

Oh, a Cock and Balls Lake (!), he he. But, let’s see, what direction should I be walking in, then?

—–

“See?” she said, pointing to the same kind of image found in one of those haunted places we were still exploring. “A red arrow indicating direction. That means we should turn the lights on to something.”

“I see.” Resonance.

—–

Turns out he was heading too far east from southeast after leaving Nijnsel (“Windytown”) about an hour back and needed to course correct here.

Which he did to reach the pictured house below.

Ahh, back on track, he thought, noting illuminated Philips Stadion in the distance from around the building.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0511, Europe, Google Street View, Holland, MFS