Category Archives: Estate

00500403

“Is that *Iowa* corn over there, Chuck?” asks Tom, noticing the discoloration and almost slicing off one of his fingers in the concern. “Because that’s not allowed. Poison,” he followed. “You’ll have to use Illinois.”

“Oh,” said Chuck, recognizing his mistake. “Thanks a lot!” Forgot to throw out the last of it when they received the call from the local Hy-Vee yesterday. Almost got 1/2 the restaurant sick!

“AND we need to take that Iowan car down from above the counter too. Gives paying customer the wrong impression, bad press and all. We must distance ourselves–”

“–from the Heartland as much as possible, yes,” completes Chuck for Tom, one in the moment, their hatred of it growing by the hour, minute, day. What will it be tomorrow? Wheat? What’s Kaboom made out of? Lucky Charms? Everyone will be doomed; no getting well atall, at least for the older and more vulnerable folks, thinking down-in-the-hollow Kennedys here.

Shelley, fresh from pretend slaughtering hogs down the street, another Iowan staple, waits at the counter, overhearing it all. I could still use that corn for gas, she thinks humorously, staring at the mounted red ’57 Chevy and understanding why she’s here. “Wait!” she called, just as Tom was about to dump the corn in the bin like a baby that’s its own bathing water. “And I’ll take the car off your hands too,” she adds just later. Is that stretching a joke? You bet!

—–

Filled up, full blown ’57 Chevy down on the ground and ready to roll again, she comes to the actual reason for visiting Cedar Creek in the first place: Daniel’s day trailer, erm, Daniel Day’s trailer… during the day. Lunchtime, so should be home. She opens her mouth to speak.

“Hello?” Knock knock knock. “Hello??”

No one there, but finding the door unlocked she decides to wait inside. Why not? All this is role playing after all.

On the tellie, Shelley sees what Baker B. and Daniel D. are watching at the morning job Baker had kept him late at again, more magic of the place. “Peewee Big,” Shelley recognizes, probably to compare it with recently viewed “Father Fred”. Toward the end of the sync, Shelley also saw, right where Josh is hearing potentially triggering music again. Daniel should be here soon, she knows, aiming to eat a quick sandwich or something then head off to the afternoon job. I won’t be long.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0403, Carrcass+02, Cedar Ck, Iowa, Maryland

00500305

“It’s one of your more successful collages, Baker B., it really is. “The Shining Pepper Project.” People should have been paying more attention to your work back then. But who’s fault is that?”

“Yeah, I know. What could I do? Copyright restrictions.”

“Well, *now* you’re doing something about it. Finally.”

“About Paul,” says Baker B. to Daniel, much much later when the transfer mistake was finally rectified. Baker B. couldn’t have known, but the part time job created so that he could focus the other half of his standard work day on his art trapped Daniel in a kind of hell. No smoke no smoke, the wood the wind! But now the truth is staring at him right in front of his face.”

“When did the switch occur?” says Daniel to Baker. “5 to 6 I heard. Kansas and Kentucky?”

“Reverse that and you’re correct.” TBC?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0305, Arkansas, Cedar Ck, collages 2d, Kansas, Kentucky, Missouri

00500303 (Transfer)

“Iowa??” Daniel eyes the red car wall decor mounted above Father Fecked sitting at the counter, knows where this is heading. Iowa?? he says to himself this time.

“Mountain in the Air,” Newt metes out. Knew he was going to say that, Daniel thinks. Roger Pine Ridge. Or was it Marty?

Turns out it was both.

——

“Roger Pine Ridge is sick on Pill. That malady is spreading throughout the state, maybe something to do with the corn I don’t know.”

“Or Hy-Vee in particular,” spouts Daniel, proud of his addition.

“Okay, *corn* in Hy-Vee, let’s say.”

“Alright.” Always has to one up me, Daniel thinks here.

“But patient 01 — or I suppose patient 00 is the way they put it…”

“Yeah?”

“Roger Pine Ridge.”

“Yeah I remember him from the blog. *And* the attached photo-novels.” Always have to tack that on after mention of the precious blog, Daniel thinks, or else Newt *could* get upset. Doesn’t always happen but he doesn’t want to take the chance. Gotta get to the bottom of this tonight. As in: bottom of the state.

“Right,” says Newt. “So he can’t sit in front of the Beaconsfield Hy-Vee, um, building, the original location. Can’t wait for Marty any longer.”

“I see.” Indeed he did. More than he wanted to let on. You see, his memory is excellent and he recalls what happened to Roger Pine Ridge at this location in the blog. “You’re… putting me in a place similar to the castle,” he reveals what he’s gleaned. “Wooden. So wooden I can’t smoke there either. And (he turns toward the 4th wall, looks for a camera), all because of a laugh? At my expense?”

“There’s the wind too,” Newt doubles down on the laughs. “You can’t smoke because of that either. Wood and wind.”

“*Great*, THANKS.”

“Have you packed your bags?” Newt asks, understanding time doesn’t exist here, not in Cedar Creek, not in Nawt Vaya either, anywhere in Our Second Lyfe. Maybe not even in Iowa.

“No. I mean: yes; what the heck: yes. I’m packed. I’m ready to go. Am… I already there?”

“Yes.” TBC?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0303, Cedar Ck, Iowa

00500208 (2 centers and getting small)

“Obviously he (Koolaid Man) got sent to the Abyss. You have me, you don’t need to go there any more. No matter how harmless it might present itself as; no need to waste energy on it. You had Andersson for a long time, a tighter focus. She’s pleased (that you let her go); a great number of people get trapped in lesser Babylons like that — no real harm done long term. The *Abyss* Abyss is different. You know. You *feel*.”

Noodle remained a way out, I gathered. Noodle and Shelley and Shelley and Noodle in one as I continue to link up with Gorillaz. Concrete, but with flowers and such sprouting up between forming cracks. Both grew up in front of our watching eyes. But it also seems to me that Shelley wants me to let her go — eventually. Have to think about that.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0208, HANA LEI

00500202 (SPLAT: all caps)

That’s weird, Newt thinks. Concrete again.

Wonder where it leads?

—–

“Excuse me, sir. Concrete. Know anything? About?”

Daniel turns. He hadn’t heard that name in a looong time. “Come with me,” he said after introductory banter. He had a lot to unburden to this stranger from the far off Nawt Vaya Sea over on the mainland continent of Jeogeot. A lot indeed.

—–

3 hours and 19 seconds later…

“So I’m an artist, you see. And not a waste management operations worker.”

“I see.”

“I’m ready to leave this place, get a new job more in line with my goals.” Newt’s own gallery of Concrete sealed the deal for him. They must be connected (!).

“How… can I help?” How indeed. Howl.

“Take me back with you.” TBC?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0050, 0202, Cedar Ck, Frank's Moving Castle, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS

00490610 (killing time)

“Still naked from skinny dipping, we’ll say now, he wakes up in his Silver Lake apartment and stares at the silver band passed to him, now on his arm and acting like a bracelet. He realizes an engraving on it is a knight’s move in chess, H6 to G4.

“Another code on the back side eventually points to a map related to The Legend of Zelda video game from an old Nintendo magazine he happens to possess. The third ingredient for solving this puzzle comes in the form of another map found in a vintage cereal box, of L.A. this time. Also found in his apartment — what are the odds? He superimposes real — L.A. — upon fantastical — LoZ — and marks out a grid of A-P and 1-8…

“‘H6,’ he says, circling the 1st indicated square with a marker. ‘Ahh, Silver Lake! And G4, let’s see. Yes. Mt. Hollywood. Sarah, my vanished dream girl, must be somewhere around the sign!’

“He head up there the next day and uncovers the Forever Cult below a blocked out part of Google Maps. After finding out that Sarah is alive but sealed inside a tomb, he drinks tea and passes out.

“She’s dead, actually,” he starts the kicker. “He killed her. That’s how he got her silver band. There was no second choker. Only the first; close quote.

“Pretty good story, huh John? Thanks Bardie!”

5 second pause. “You’re.” 3 second pause. “Welcome.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0610, California, Heartsdale+, Missouri

00490604

Oh Jesus, he thinks, checking through the 2-way mirror on who opened the creaking door this time. Someone on the list for a change (!). And John on the john, unable to help me right now. Don’t dare yell over at him to hurry things up, he thinks; people next door might hear. Peter Oesso runs up to camera 03, quickly turns it around. BMK wants all angles so she can transform the video from 2-D to 3-D! Can’t screw this up. On cue, important person #5 on the list, back to the mirror, roughly pushes important person #4 onto the bed in front of him. Peter’s already noted she wears a green turtleneck sweater to go along with grey dress pants, indicating who she is. The man in contrast wears a grimy white tank top and faded holey jeans — working man, he’s guessing, perhaps on a break from the nearby factory given the time (noon-1 PM). Poor and rich, he’s determined; contrast of class. But also on the list. Blue Moon called them the turtle and the hare and said that he’d know them by her neck. The man starts berating her about coming too soon the last time and then climbs on the bed on top of her and proceeds to CHOKE her by that very neck. Should Peter intervene? Is this just part of the sex? Choke choke choke… oh god. Dead on the bed. DEAD… ON THE BED. #5 leaves the room, as if his job is done. Doesn’t try to dispose of the body or anything. Just: gone. Creaky door opens then shuts. Oh my gods, thinks Peter. Now *we’ll* have to dispose of the body? Is that… really why we’re here??? He understandably is terrorized, but just then, stirs from the bed. #4 is alive! he thinks. This must have all been part of the act, PHEW. After a minute to recover it seems, she gets up off the bed and approaches the window just as Blue Moon did before. She folds down the green sweater from her neck after removing some kind of pin, and unclasps a silver band from it, a silver choker if you will. Protection from the choking! Peter thinks. Ahh, this *is* an act. She proceeds to pass it to Peter THROUGH THE MIRROR.

At this moment, John finally exits the bathroom but Peter quickly hides the choker just given to him behind his back. Person #4: gone as well now from room #5, as if by magic, no creaky door noises indicating opening and closing. “What was all that commotion out here?” he questioned.

“Oh nothing, just tipped over in my chair.” It was the best Peter could think of. Would it work?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0604, California, Heartsdale+, Missouri

00490513 (Blue Moon Kentucky)

Martin Allen? Where had I heard that name before? Ahh: *here*.

The front door creakily opens in the next room, as they’d set it up to do. “Your turn to film,” he said to likewise au naturale John in the chair next to  him.

“Um, no. Think it’s your turn, Peter.”

“Would you like to see the film?” It was here John realized Peter had turned the nearest recording camera around for better use that it was intended: porn shoots. Selective of course. Because this tended to be an old folks stop along Highway 66, perhaps revisiting a past trip from the 50s, 60s or 70s when the interstate didn’t exist or else wasn’t as overwhelmingly used as it is now. “Geezer sex doesn’t sell,” the boss told them emphatically. “Not really, not that matters for us. We’re in it for the big bucks. Don’t bother wasting film with those. Waste it on the important ones I listed out before.” But none of those had shown up. At least not yet (see section 06).

“Hey!” Raps at the two way mirror. “In there! Turn camera three around! I can *see* in there!” The Big Boss. Not a geezer, not atall. Young and full of passionate energy, probably too much so. But she’d given up on the bare bones of the business to follow a career in music. And what a career she’s having! No one knows she’s here, doing this stuff still. Peter Oesso and John Lockfry the 1st are paid well to hide that fact. Plus she said: “Blabber to the press — *anyone* — and you’re dead.” They knew she meant it. They’d seen the snuff films, one or perhaps several of which involved former employees with loose running mouths. Cheechee and then death. Not a combo you want to be facing.

She stepped all over Benjamin Franklin’s green toned face in leaving the room too. Gig over at the stadium tonight; she had to get prepared. Just reminding the boys here that she could stop by at any time. Anny-time. They had to remain without clothes. They couldn’t take any chances. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0513, Heartsdale+, Kentucky, Missouri, Pennsylvania

00490511 (cleansed 02)

Stop, smell the roses.

Good, isn’t it?

But the smell of the hotel beneath it wouldn’t go away. The loop still exists: Violet Hope, the 1923 vampire who lived at least 100 more years. Can Can Girl, with a second head now emerging from the first thanks to the magic of instant collage, no mirroring required. Barry de Boy decides to created his “Does This Look Square to You?” series because of its reduced 814 x 814 pixel dimensions, becoming the second entry of the bunch which started with this…

… and currently finishes up with this, its third and perhaps the last personal collage, period, a good place to terminate the overall process (?):

1-2-3, with 24 x 24 miles square Newton County MS and 13 x 13 multi-colored square The Atom also in the mix somewhere, at least behind the scenes. Back to the hotel…

“I’m finished, Hucka! You can come in now!” Wait!! Why did I say that?? I’m disgusting!!!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0511, collages 2d, Ebbert, Jemison, Kentucky, New Mexico, Paperville+, Starfield, Willow Hill

00490313

It had happened again and this time Frank Lynn *did* have Daisy’s number since they’d been on, what, 5 dates now? 6? Anyway, they were kind of living together at this juncture, on a higher level to his castle than the one still occupied a bunch of the time by “interlopers” (ha) Philip Strevor and Dr. Paul Mouse, the level behind the mouth and that giant sticky outie tongue that Philip likes to take his wees off of. “Look out below!” he would often shout needlessly when the stream appeared, because there was no one else around in this isolated skybox, not down below nor anywhere else outside the castle itself. Both of these men were hanger oners; both had issues. Dr. Mouse was still dead for one. Philip was sort of on the edge of same with his indulgence in speed and the pinball game High Speed and daring to combine the two at times. That was the crux of his problem. He was still trying to beat Mouse’s score at the game at any cost. And that cost might involve dying. Mouse would always have the advantage there.

Daisy was working down at the bar installing the new house non beer Michelob Zero to replace the Corona Non that had failed recent taste tests to her exasperation. Bad batch? she thought upon initially discovering the issue, her face wincing at the surprising lack of flavor and overemphasis on fizz. But then she purchased another batch and another batch — same problem. She’d had to abort the product, at least until the Mexican based company got their act together again. She was sure she’d found the ultimate house beer, at least before putting the finishing touches on her own special non brew. Then she planned to rule all of Our Second Lyfe with the delicious concoction, he he he. Ho ho. So she was busy with that and didn’t have time to go up and sit with Frank until Mouse’s epileptic seizure was over and told him, like still unavailable Lexi before, just to wait the fit out and that it shouldn’t take more than 5 to 7 minutes, a seizure once again caused by Mouse’s indulgence in studying often strobing Youtube poop videos, especially interested in what lies at their center. Like this from one of the latest tests. Pure red. Pure demon.

But Frank Lynn had a worse feeling this time around. 5-7 minutes of shaking, then 10, then… NONE. Just laying there, not recovering, not springing up from the floor seemingly as good as new like before. He checked Mouse’s pulse. “Uh oh,” he said. Heart pumps now: “*1* Mississippi, *2* Mississippi, **3** Mississippi,” he counted in desperation while pressing the chest in and out, in and out, in and out. “Come on come on come *on*. You can’t die *again*, Dr. Mouse. You just *can’t*.” But the pulse never moved from zero. He was floating down the mighty river toward the Gulf of America that had once been good old reliable Mexico. TBC

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0313, Frank's Moving Castle, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS, Soap