“Here’s what we have so far, then. Saints Joseph and Mary *combine*, see, at (Fort) Wayne, which creates the Great Black Swamp, the same as Jesus but blacker.”
“And that’s where TILE comes in,” I speculate from behind the batty-mobile, since there was no remaining room up front. “SID, I mean there.”
“Yes. The Great Black Swamp had to be drained by tiling, which had very positive effects short term but less so long-wise. Little Oakley Annie could now travel easily to Defiance formerly in the center of the swamp to purchase more bullets for her shootings back in the day but later she pays in a different way. We are trying to control the eventual damage — that’s part of all this.”
“And the mouth at Toledo is — the vulva?” I theorize further. “John (Bob) Denver would not be happy.” I snicker; not returned.
“The Abyss is the Mother,” half rabbit, half bat Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer replies pedantically, citing some dry and unmemorable TILE document now that I can’t recall the exact name of. “The Unknown, The Void, The *Static*,” he continues with the synonyms and analogies. He could have gone on for some time, I realize.
I stand even further back, almost against the far wall of the garage-room now trying to take it all in. Professor Art and his train car were turned sideways to begin, which also turns the splayed figure in the center of it all that way as well. Fort Wayne — birth of Rainbowology and the fusion of Oz and Floyd. The Great Blackness (etc.). But then at Toledo: light! Birth. Between the open legs of the mother. Newton from Jasper. It all added up to… we go from nowhere to…
“And the train car is Black Ice,” Baumbeer tacks on while turning toward the back of the garage. But that part behind the batty-mobile’s tail end remains unclear and ill defined.
Sunklands 