Category Archives: Estate

October 6, 2017 · 8:33 am

name game 02

Broken Heart led Earie through a series of backyard passages where they met several colorful characters. I’ll get to that story more later. But true to her word they were here outside the Joint Joint, with Jacob I. supposedly within. Broken Heart had further explained that the I. stood for nothing. “Think Harry S. Truman,” she said while striding over some old tires on their journey. Seeing Earie not reply, she added, “or U.S. Grant.” “So his full and legal name is Jacob I.,” Earie replied back, dodging a broken coke bottle. “Formerly Jacob the Lawnmower,” he furthered, alluding to earlier conversation. By this time they were passing through Old Lady Bedford’s clotheslines in another tight spot, being careful not to get, well, clotheslined (caught in the neck). At 96 she represented the town’s oldest prostitute, but her only remaining customer was Billy Tokesalot, a nonagenarian himself. Sometimes it took them 10 days.

In the present moment, Earie tried the door to the establishment. Locked. “Don’t knock the knockers,” Broken Heart ordered from below. “He’ll come.” Nothing happened for several minutes. Earie glanced over at the policeman standing beside them a couple of times, but his gaze remained fixed on the window. “Nice night,” Earie finally offered. The policeman didn’t answer; focus unchanged. At 4:45am Jacob I. opened the door, and stared at each figure in front of it. “Broken Heart,” he said, nodding down to the cat-person. Jacob then came back to Earie. “I thought I told you to stay away, Chuck.”

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October 5, 2017 · 6:53 am

searching

Red, yellow, blue, he thinks. Is this *us* again somehow?

And across the street: same colors in a row. Right order according to their houses, even. He peers through the window.

Someone shooting up. Grim town.

Nope. Not here either.

There was just a lot of f-cking places Jacob I. could be.

He decides to retreat back to the safety of his Yellow House and try again tomorrow. Too dangerous at night.

Oh no. He’s lost again.

Is that the burning barrel from the night before? He’s unsure.

A scream from the shack down the plank walkway.

Red and blue glasses thrown through a window. He’s close! But so dangerous here. He senses it all around. Maybe he should put on his blue eye again — look tougher. Or crazier may be good too.

Totally lost. “Shoo cat. Ain’t got time for you.”

But the boney feline persisted. “RreeRRW!” it said. That translates to “follow ME!” in cat language.

Then, gazing at Earie’s turned face, it changed and stood up on two legs. “Blue red,” Broken Heart spoke with an eerie, child-like voice. “Blue red blue red blue red.”

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October 5, 2017 · 5:08 am

punks

Earie (The Musician) realized there were still many mysteries to be resolved concerning VHC City — like the relationship of this Sipvicious logo found in the Quincey Educational Building and the famous punk Sid Vicious who stayed in the town’s grand Hotel Chelsea. Chroma and Improvio, being rooted in a basal nature still, desired to visit the infamous Room 100 where Sid killed Nancy. The All Nancy’s ghost found in the Grand Lapara Hotel more recently is mere reflection of this tragic event, they’ve determined. The Grand Lapara Hotel itself, they say, is a reflection of Hotel Chelsea, in that both are modeled after real life New York City hotels. Earie, who has evolved beyond them now, he feels, thinks otherwise. But his main concern right now is not VHC City nor Olde Lapara Town. It’s Gaston-Berry, and finding Jacob I. and attempting to get him to explain what the heck is happening to him currently. Chroma and Improvio made up like hookers? Red and blue lensed glasses? The Lei sisters? It’s a head scratcher, he realizes while scratching his head. So it’s back to the Yellow House to prepare for a downtown visit.

But first, he must dress more appropriately for the location. Some purchases at historical Blackburns Store in Alabama or Georgia aid him.

Did he go too far with the blue eye? Yes, he determined. He did. A bit too alien, and the new landlord specified in her short rental note: NO aliens.

Good enough.

Eat your heart out Improvio, you old skunk.

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October 4, 2017 · 8:59 am

name game

Earie woke up in a strange place once more. He felt like he’d been drugged. But he recognized the rusty lighting all around. Still Gaston-Berry, he realized. For there indeed was a Berry too, as legends told.

Now where was home again in all this mess?

Ahh, the ocean. He must be close. There’s Stewart’s ship out there. A landmark for his confused mind.

He sits in the worn wooden chair on the pier and tries to remember what happened the night before.

Audrey was her name? No… Leona. Leona Lei. And her sister Hana Lei. Or at least they always wore leis (traditional Hawaiian garland of flowers). But wait — he’s remembering the horrible details now. It was only his siblings Improvio and Chroma, dolled up like women of the night. What was in that weed Jacob sold them last week?? And those wacky glasses (sunglasses?) they passed back and forth between them, with one lens red and the other blue. Yes, he must track down Jacob, who resides downtown somewhere. He remembers an initial for a last name but not the actual name. Jacob I. Maybe that will be sufficient.

But first, to find home.

Easy enough.

He must pay more attention to his surroundings.

—–

Meanwhile, downtown:

“So little grass, Broken Heart Jackie.”

“And so much paper.”

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October 2, 2017 · 1:38 pm

color row

One day, after a particularly intense jamming session the night before, The Musician woke not beside Terri but *as* Terri. Although his name was now Earie. Some people called him Chuck. He lived in the Yellow House — been living there for a pretty good while.

Siblings Chroma and Improvio resided in the same row of houses, but remained in cocoon form, chained to a more basal music. He was the first to emerge.

He gives Improvio next door in the Blue House a ring, knowing he wouldn’t be up, hehe.


“Don’t answer it.”

Chroma (Red House) was usually down at the waterfront by now, studying symmetry in objects washed up on the beach. She jots down a lot.

Right this moment she happens to be scrutinizing an old waterlogged book found floating underneath a rickety pier.

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October 1, 2017 · 5:54 am

Gaston Terri

The Musician tries to remember where his studio apartment is in this maze of streets, stairs and alleyways.

Eight, nine… He believes his was 5.

Squalor. He thinks for the thousandth time that he must remove himself from this environment. But he’s been inspired (!). The Musician has some new songs. “Terri,” for one, a love ballad.

He found it. Down by the harbour.

How’d he get so lucky?

But he’s got his eyes on this 2 story yellow house 2 doors down. The place remains unlocked, and sometimes he and Terri meet here and jam.

Yesterday he received a telephone call from Wheeler. They caught up. Wheeler said she’s probably heading back to Collagesity in a month or 2, and that some things remain to be tied up in Olde Lapara Towne. He, in turn, tells how he got to Gaston from VHC City. It was pleasant talking to her again. Afterwards he thought of the good times back in their Safe Plaza, where they first met up. The Ear Bar. Yes…

He looks for the landmark. Takes him a while…

Key shop… close enough.

There it is. The Musician almost forgot how to find it.

Ear.

Bar.

His favorite pinball machine inside — still broken.

“Howdy Percolator,” The Musician calls toward the bar counter. Percolator is a sentient clown machine.

The red doors across the way were no longer locked. Underground open to all. No OD needed!

He could still stay here. Crash on the upper floor’s couch just like old times.

But there was Terri to think about now. He imagines him sitting in the chair next to the couch, his twin sister Chroma illuminated in the background.

Chroma wishes to be a mathematician, but is limited because she only likes group theory. “0 1 4 9 4 1”, she might randomly say. He can’t recall any other of her rows right off. Chroma’s graphs she calls them in total. She’s red for a reason.

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September 24, 2017 · 8:35 am

Jacob 02

He recognized the big, white lily pad just ahead. Jacob had circled back to where he began. Nothing here, then.

Wait, an opening right beside him he’d missed.

Jupiter.

Jacob thought of the small island as a whole now. Melancholy was its name. The I. that could not get high.

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September 24, 2017 · 7:33 am

Jacob 01

Jacob the Lawnmower was trimming and harvesting the grass around the highest sand dune with the castle when suddenly he was someplace else altogether.

Something big was sniffing his right ear.

And up the wooden stairs, an ickle, white in color and cubic in shape.

He derezzes the now useless mower and heads up to the tree, trying to gain perspective.

“You can stop clutching now,” the simple ickle suggests. “You are no longer a mower. You are no longer anything. Welcome to the Land of Infinite Possibilities. Did I say infinite — I always do that. *Finite* Possibilities. But very broad and rangy possibilities nonetheless.” He paused, studying the guest more, the dilated eyes, the psychedelic, swirly green t-shirt. “What is your name, man?”

“Jacob,” came the answer in a plain voice. He almost said Jacob the Lawnmower but caught himself. He also stopped clutching. “I desire nothing except the grass and the wind.” Jacob then remembered another thing he desired. “And paper.”

“Rolling paper?” the ickle guessed correctly. “We have caves stocked with paper just for that purpose. “But — and this is the clincher, Jacob, so pay attention — we have no *grass.*”

Jacob looked around, seeing plenty of grass, if not exactly the mowing variety.

“Yes, yes,” the ickle explained further. “We have grass but not grass grass. The weed variety. Our grass is not weed… Mary Jane.”

“I am sad I cannot get high,” a high pitched pink bunny-ickle added from a nearby landscape depression.

“Nor me,” ventured a deep throated cuckoo-ickle from the base of the tree further up. “Come here, man, and descend down this spirally green hole to help aid us. It’s a worm tunnel going all the way to Jupiter. Trust us, man. It’s groovy.”

Jacob studied the tunnel using remote viewing. Seemed harmless enough, so he walked past the square white bird, uttered a quick, “see you guys,” and went in.

A 100+ pound weight then fell on the depressed bunny-ickle, crushing her to suds.

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July 16, 2017 · 7:56 am

Mission 02 03

No one says anything, not knowing if Woody is finished or not. But after about 30 seconds, it’s pretty obvious to all that he’s wrapped up his spiel. Mary takes his place, thanking Woody and the others for their words, then asks if anyone else wants to speak. She looks at Baker Bloch then at Hucka Doobie. Both wave her off, but then Baker felt the need to say, “We appreciate your supreme sacrifice Mary.”

“Then I suppose it’s time.” She turns to the rocket ship. “Goodbye all! I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Goodbye my love!” Pitch cries from the second row. “I know you will. I have faith in the Gods.”

Sobbing, she touches the launcher, then manifests inside the firing capsule. A person was already there. It was George, seated beside her.

He took her hand. “It’s you and me now.”

—–

24 years later…

“Do you not know me?” asked Mary/Chuckles to Sikul Himakt The Musician.

“Of course I do mother.”

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2017 MIDDLE”!

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July 13, 2017 · 8:20 am

L$1101110

“There she is, George. Just like I predicted.”

“Who is she?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Duncan replied. “How long did you say you’ve been here now?”

“What’s time here? But 50 as of last Wednesday. *You* were there at the celebration.”

“Ever hear of mothersightings?”

“Of course,” said the younger boy in appearance. “But… *oh*, you don’t mean…?”

—–

“That’s when we first saw her. Together. I’ve been spotting her fishing in various places for a while. We determined later it was the same ghost that haunted the village’s 3rd cottage — Osborne Well’s house back then, before he moved up the hill. He probably summoned her through the monster tome, we reasoned. That’s what we had nicknamed his heavy book of spells. And now she couldn’t escape this realm. But what was the spell? That’s what we had to find out next. Well… Mr. Well always took a morning walk down in the lowlands: Path of the Circle River. That was our window. Literally. We entered his house through a window and not a door. George had just received a universal pass-through for his 50th death day, but we still dare not come in from the front. Very expensive in those days.”

“Doors?” Baker Bloch ventured.

“Pass-throughs,” Duncan corrected. “Buster Damm can tell you all about them. When he gets here.”

“Which should be soon,” Pitch Darkly said.

“Yes. The book was just laying open on the table, which should have been clear indication of a trap for us. It wasn’t. We were so proud that we’d found a way to enter the house in the first place. Vanity.” He shook his head. “The next thing we knew we were the same. I was him, I mean. Just by reading the passage in front of me. Rule 110.”

“Well, what did it say?” Hucka Doobie had been studying magic for years and was very curious about all this.

“We couldn’t remember. Neither of us.” Duncan kept something hidden here. “But that was the day we found out we had the same mother. And the same father. Osborne Well. Lucky us, eh? Osborne Well was our father.”


Mothersighting.

“Not Pitch?” exclaimed Baker Bloch.

“Nope,” Duncan replied tersely. “At least not until *now*. That’s why I’m apparently here. A summoning. Three days ago I was returned to my former self. Spell broken.” He wiped his forehead with his hand. “Thank the Lord God Almighty.”

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