Category Archives: Rubi^
“I refuse to die this time Jerome T. Newton. I’m going beyond the end of Newton — you — into Oblong.”
“It’s that girl that’s helping you,” Newton declared between clenched teeth. “From the *fu-ture*.”
Chef-detective Keat Petty Owens had already moved on from his stalking ghost to a different gallery. He was staring at the beginning of the second 1/2 of the 10×10. 51. “It’s All Here.”
He even gave his petrified hands back to Newton as a parting gift. Goodbye demo(n) alien. Forever. Maybe.
To Montana. And beyond…
Two realities were superimposing themselves on top of each other, inadvertently (perhaps) creating chaos and confusion. He simply didn’t know; he simply couldn’t understand. In the moment.
I’ve created the bare bones of a consignment store on my Rubi property not seen since the very beginning of this here photo-novel, number 22 in a series of 20. The first thing I decide on to fill out the 4 square emptiness is a Volvo station wagon, which definitely does *not* have two handles on its back door nosiree.
Let’s just prop it up outside for now against the building’s unfinished, plywood exterior.
Then I add another image inside that has become meaningful to me today: the collage characters I call Source (Male) and Lake (Female) — perhaps another version of Adam and Eve and the whole Apples story — *hiding* something. Like we are seeing through a wall into another dimension.
And since the Tacoma consignment store the impossible station wagon is driving by on N Proctor Ave in that first picture above is named Megs and Mo, I suppose Cassandra City’s Moes Bar is related somehow. The transparent Source and Lake image comes from M & M as well — very important there. More soon.
“Phil had the richest, most complicated sense of humor of the four of us,” said his Firesign Theatre partner David Ossman. “He loved what he called ‘the stupid’ and he could twist it into surreal pieces of head-beating comedy. His High School Lunch Menus, the Irish guy who taught how to paint like the insane, the Funny Names Club of America. He had the whole range. Bergman and Austin were really the Lennon and McCartney of the group.”
“Let’s take you somewhere and put you to work, Mr. Author — Mr. Detective. How about Perch, hmm? Wait… that’s currently closed for ceiling repairs. Blue Feather it is!”
“Good to see you back on the case, Chef-Detective Keat Owens,” spoke Baker Bloch over to the new but very familiar face. A bargain for 35 lindens in olden times.
The chef-detective shook his head, as if just waking up to the reality around him. Which was true. “I was on the ceiling,” he said, eyes blinking at Baker trying to focus in. “The building — was being repaired. An art installation. Then…”
“Murder?” Baker Bloch knew it could be the only reason Owens was back. Grand larceny or burglary or even manslaughter wouldn’t be enough.
“A girl. A friend of the 4 squared one.”
Spongebub? He hadn’t thought about that name in a long time. Not since the early days of Rubi. Speaking of which…
“4 men in one,” Keat Owens continued, as if Baker Bloch had said nothing, which he didn’t. “One of tin; one of glass — no, fur; one of steel; and then one of…” He tapered off, unable to think of the last element. That’s because it was imaginary. Baker Bloch explained this to him, along with the others.
“Superman?” he replied about the man of steel. “No, that doesn’t sound right.”
“Superdude?” Baker then altered. “Superguy?” he tried again. “Super*bub*?”
Then the reality of the overarching *umbrella* name kicked in. The chef-inspector was beginning to remember a whole world abducted from reality. “Someone has lost their bikini bottom.” His eyes were as big as quarters now.
Next stop: Bigfoot Bar or thereabouts.
“My latest creation, Golden Jim. The Rubi Gardens. 2 parcels in 1. I have almost encircled…”
“No you haven’t,” countered Golden Jim, wiser than the girl fairy for now. “You will never encircle these enchanted woods, except…”
“*Except,* spoke the *now* wiser child. She was wiser than Golden Jim almost all the time except, in this post, for that little lapse back there. Except.
“Except what, child?” Golden Jim stared at her, at the woods behind her. *Their* woods. They become one through it.
“Mamie and Esther’s house above the big faun statue is a cursed one, just like the duplicate house above the giant Jesus statue was a blessed dwelling. Another 2 fer 1: black and white; good and bad; masculine and feminine; Heaven and Earth.”
“Omit good and bad from the list,” suggested Hucka Doobie, sitting 2 down from Baker Bloch at the Blue Feather Table tonight. “We better get to the new land.”
[delete 15 exchanges]
“Okay, we’ll wait 2 weeks for that one. Wheeler’s tier will roll over into the next cycle by then.”
“Cool,” replies Hucka Doobie. “And Collagesity may live on in its present location after all. Things will happen. This *novel* will be finished or almost done by then. How to wrap up?”
“Keep focusing on BoB, obviously.”
“Better hop… er, get, um, go after it then.”
duplicate house above the giant Jesus statue, formerly in Siliconicus; note that Jesus faces *away* from the house here, and the faun faces toward the identical one in Fumb — seems to reach for it, even
More info about the houses and a lot of other Nautilus/Route 13-14 stuff here:
More about the related BoB concept here:
1933 -Black-Clear Lake was formed by the construction of the Allen Dam across Saline Bayou downstream of its confluence with Black Bayou. Prior to that time, there existed a chain of three swampy areas known as Black Lake, Clear Lake and the Prairie. The Allen Dam inundated all three of these areas and formed what is now Black-Clear Lake, known locally as Black Lake. Construction of the Allen Dam also created Saline Lake and water levels in both lakes were regulated in unison….
1959 -The Chee Chee Dam was constructed and served to separate Saline Lake from Black-Clear Lake.
1981 –The Allen Dam failed and was washed away
“I will not fail in my mission,” thought Allen Y., at a Calas flower kiosk with a just purchased bouquet of fresh and lovely purple roses. “I *will* win her heart.”
“He will fail,” spoke observing Baker Bloch back at the Blue Feather Table.
“Yes,” answered Wheeler beside him. “The water obscures, the water clears. Bottom-writing is revealed. All demos down there.”
“Demons,” spoke Baker Bloch. “You forgot the ‘n’.”
“I didn’t forget nothing” retorts the co-ruler of Collagesity. She settles back in her chair, pulls out some chew and sticks it in her mouth. “But first a little Chee Chee,” she delivered from an open, masticating void.
“Why don’t you and Tropp get away from it all. Make a sort of vacation out of it. Another 2 stone with one bird situation. You keep an eye on Pine Ridge and his *unsanctioned* new gang at MISTY MO and at the same time further your own storyline. We can book you in the same lodge with the rest of ’em.”
Wheeler Wilson pondered what Baker Bloch was offering here at the Table. She’d just explained how Tropp and she were now banned from Braynard’s Place where he was, in effect, born into this world in present form, boy to man style. But he admitted to her it was worth it. Yes it was.