Category Archives: Estate

July 3, 2026 · 8:24 am

00500512 (The Sage Page)

“So there I am again. You can tell me by my bent up nature, just like an Ozian Wheeler traveling around on all 4s, and also bent to the rule of the Witch Mombi and perhaps the Nome King through her. Old Wheeler,” she summarized about the figure in the center of the collage before us, called “Crash on Mars.” Not because it depicts something crashing into Mars but because of another figure to the left of “Old Wheeler” called Crash who holds in his hand a giant fishing rod from our perspective, horses let out of a barn I suppose. She first brings him up in the next paragraph.

“(the 19th Century U.S. religious figure) David Brainard is seated in the foreground,” she continues, “who seems to be the same as (brainy) David Bowie, the Spaceman, the Man who lived on Mars. The Starman, as in Dark. Black. Look at the top. At the end of Crash’s fishing rod which passes through (the word) RUST.”

I saw the black star at the top of the work where Wheeler (*New* Wheeler) indicated, fronted by a blue-green hummingbird. I ask about it next, prefacing this by saying that it seems to me it should be a fish here instead. “What gives?” I end my query.

“Let’s turn to the next Bogota collage,” she replies and starts walking to our left, pulling up in front of it. I go stand beside her, basically shoulder to shoulder again so we can keep trying to see as one.

“More Life on Mars,” she says. “Remember when I told you to bring me Book 03 from the town library and place it on my table? Well there it is. It’s a summary of all knowledge, all books.” The collage changes.

“And there is the second part of the animation which is actually the first, showing my point. Lisa the Vegetarian is the Tungaske artist who absorbs it all — inputs it; eats it — and then provides an output for us to peruse and perhaps dig into deeper if we wish. Beyond surface reading, you see. Surface of Mars. Crash again in back, facing toward you this time — sans rod, I’ll add, with no horses around this go around. As if waiting for you to act. Can you act? How deep can you go? TBC

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June 18, 2026 · 6:41 am

00500414 (“Death of King Philip” (enter the Redman))

“So you know now what Roger Waters and Roger ‘Syd’ Barrett are staring at. And it’s not Shelley.”

“Nope,” he answers, as in Big Nope, Safety Zone on the other side. 0-10. Slow down, slow down! 6… 5.

“Do you want to give it a go?” I asked about an interpretation. “You know this has something to do with Kane Pixels’ ‘People Still Live Here’ web-series.”

“Why don’t we bring in another,” he responded to this, and yielded to Jack Shepherde, at least for this post. We’ll see about more.

—–

“Both of these Indians are me,” he begins when entering the scene beside me, Daniel Day off for a drink at the local pub. We hadn’t seen each other in almost 2 years and then, before that, almost 10. We are practically strangers to each other by this point. But, then again, so are Daniel Day and I. Daniel Day Drink: DDD. Just like the building where he worked. And the new person worked, this Jack Shepherde with an e. I didn’t know if this would work. “Continue,” I said.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Alderman

John Alderman, also known as Isaac and Antoquan, was a Wampanoag praying Indian who shot and killed the Native American leader Metacomet (King Philip) in 1676, during King Philip’s War, while taking part in a punitive expedition led by Captain Benjamin Church. Alderman was a subsachem in the Westport/Dartmouth area of what is now Bristol County, Massachusetts. He was called Alderman because he was considered a close associate and counselor for King Philip. When Philip summarily murdered Alderman’s brother in front of him because of his dissension, Alderman changed sides and joined Benjamin Church, an English colonist who had settled in nearby Little Compton.

“The killing ended King Philip’s War,” he ended.

“And started the curse,” I added. “The whole Bridgewater Triangle thing. Alderman received his head and hand for the killing, which he would keep in a bucket of rum and show interested parties for a price.”

D.D. Drink returns from his drink. “How’d it go?” I wasn’t sure. TBC

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June 4, 2026 · 9:10 am

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 rolling 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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May 18, 2026 · 1:13 pm

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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May 18, 2026 · 6:45 am

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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May 7, 2026 · 1:16 pm

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 the 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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April 25, 2026 · 6:45 am

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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March 19, 2026 · 7:49 am

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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March 13, 2026 · 1:57 pm

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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March 8, 2026 · 10:06 am

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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