Category Archives: Bay City/Nova Albion^

00320302

“There have been other libraries in other places. Like Crabwoo.

Right, Karoz?” he prompted after turning.

“Are you going to answer my question about the Abyss or not?” Dave’s blue-green roommate for the exciting semester replies while applying the last bit of mascara to his face. Wendy! In all its glory. They finally made it after a long, hard stretch of work. Reward!

—–

In a different part of the dream, Karoz looks up to see a whale sized blimp pass over a backwards blue E, otherwise known as a schwa. Red seems to be a theme for tonight but it’s not Devil Dave this time. Instead, a car, and a particular car at that. One plucked from the Iowan hypercube they knew so well now.

“Your burger, sir,” Wendy offered from the side… with a side (fries), prying him away from the aerial spectacle. Perhaps he should get back in the car to receive.

(to be continued)

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putting the hat back on

She was back on the beach taking over the responsibility of reading *his* book while Allen floated in the sea a bit. Yellow floatie — instant attractor; which then placed similarly yellow Jennifer on his former beach towel. Archibald was not needed no longer since she had absorbed all he had to offer. She bid him well, departing with, “have fun with yourself,” knowing he already loved her a bit too. She had that effect, with the eyes and all, 9 to 10 legs, etc., etc. Perfection, she says to herself, not being boastful but just honest, she thought.

She wondered how chapter 1 could be in the almost exact middle of the book but there it was.

She read about a happily married couple who happened to be nudists and were about to join a related swingers club but for good, noble reasons and not the usual ones. They were trying to solve a crime, a murder, puzzle pieces still being arranged and put together. They then stare at red.

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redd

Back in Collagesity, observing Mr. Babyface became concerned about the lack of focus. For starter, going back to the very beginning, it’s Man About *Town*, not Time. The errors started at the conception, he realized, thinking about earlier observed images. “Big Red Machine”, now where was that book? Not the blue one over there: that’s “Urantia.” An opera that never ends. Think, Babyface, think! He’s as bad as MAT right now in this magic window, laying dazed in front of a waterfall he doesn’t know the location of. Could be center, could be fringe. “*Car*, MAT, *car*,” Mr. Babyface wanted to shout at the screen to remind the bumbler and stumbler through time the central dilemma the town faced. Jeffrey Phillips was inside, and it wasn’t pretty.

“Woops! Sorry miss!”

“I’m okay I think.”

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antomic

It’s time to tell the story of the Ant and the Elephant, both chics. CUE MUSIC

“First off, the elephant is a Trojan Horse, pardon the mixed metaphor of sorts.”

“Pardoned,” she said, because she had that power. She was queen over her own little land which wasn’t little atall to her. Like Rose Wells before her. Or after her. We continue…

“We know that because of the triangle that can be opened with stuff put inside. Like a *bomb*.”

Attagirl gasps, throwing her hands cartoonishly to her mouth. Because she was. Would her subjects do such a dastardly deed? And why in Dennis of all places? Or a TV shooting screen in Dennis?

He stared at red, the cover closed for now, the puzzle incomplete, the TV shooting screen: disabled. But luckily we can view remotely.

Grasshopper is dead.

Her bugs are responsible.

The proof is in the pudding… and the sandwiches, and the cake, and the sausages.

Boomb!

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ate

“There goes that red car again,” spoke Leslie to Darla. “Must be stuck in a time loop.”

“Um hm.”

Leslie hesitated but then couldn’t resist. “57?” she guessed.

Darla turned. “33. Corn chips,” she explained.

“My daddy died at 33. Avalanche.”

“Switzerland?” Darla ventured, unable to think of any other location for such a phenomenon in the moment.

“Flavor,” countered Leslie. “Octopi balls,” she furthered. “Straight from a witch’s kitchen if you asked me.”

Darla also hesitated but couldn’t resist. “62?”

“Psychic!” Leslie exclaimed back. And that’s what Darla did for a living after that fated encounter in a bus stop in fabled John F. Kennedy City that hot day in May’s July’s August. Until the living ended. She had a packet in her purse even then but of course couldn’t resist. That’s always the story. Path of least resistance. Psychics are often the most vulnerable even though they can see the finale more clearly. It’s like a giant game they know they can’t win but play anyway. Throwing money away. Machines again, hmph. Chips, creatures: it’s all the same. Crushing them down to size.

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the unhealthy living continues…

“I want *five* hot dogs and I won’t take no for an answer. I have 4 little children in the car who won’t shut up until I do.”

“I only have 4 left,” the vendor man begged, almost out of meat at the end of a loong hot day. But the woman couldn’t give up her own. Dead at 57.

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00310206

“See this snack here, Tabitha? That’s the one that’s going to kill Mommy in about 10 years.”

Yeah I’m about ready to whack a noob. Hurry up there Next Door Boy. I need to make my money back from this machine!

If only I hadn’t hit that machine so hard with my fist, also thought Ted upstairs. Now I can’t have children.

“Sorry Iris!” he said to a passing, oblivious woman.

“What??”

Nearby Douglas was nailing a machine more successfully. He was in better shape. He’d successfully live into his 50s. Until a steady diet of cherry squirt soda did him in.

Machines, hmph.

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00310205

These SILHOUETTES, foreground leaves in retrospect, are *directly* west of dancing Hucka Doobie and Axis in 00310117. They also seem to be “dancing” on a corner of Monroe. Compare.

Despite the leafy origins, I’ve decided it is not coincidence and instead a channeling event, call me crazy (“You’re crazy!”).

Conclusion: we never left the red car. Let’s see what the two are up to currently.

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00310204 (Boy Wonder)

I wanted to stay in Dennis but the (Tisbury) cat lured me down the sidewalk, down and away from where I was suppose to be. “Psst, over here,” he or she seemed to say (in retrospect).

“Here, come here. Come closer. There. You’re here.” Indeed, I seemed welcomed.

Hmm, left the outside faucet running but it didn’t set off any alarms in my head. I’m soo blind without Hucka (!).

“No thanks, I already have one,” I said to the greeter in the front hall, a nice enough bloak. Too bad about the facial wounds for the fellow; maybe holds him back in life and keeps him here. As a servant at the door. “A smoke, I mean. Here. In my hand.” He presents his spliff possessed appendage for the cigar offering greeter as an explanation.

He’s back to old habits. Front and center with his back to us. Ahh, the old Baker. Azure Island days. Let’s get him in a comfy place to think about what’s he’s done and where he’s heading.

Ahh, this is the life, he ruminates. Smoking a spliff while relaxing in a stranger’s home. What could go wrong?

He looks around remotely.

Oldbie, hmm. ‘Nother one. And a prisoner: 031302. So close! This is 00310204. But: point made (?).

Let’s look around some more…

I wonder what could be coming up in post 00310302?

And that was more cats. Holding green and yellow balls. I wonder what would happen if you switched them around?

I think that’s it, the primary message for tonight. I’m officially an Oldbie. I wonder if I’ve been initiated into some kind of club?

—–

Ahh, been there done that.

I feel like someone should be there. In that bed beside the books and drugs and under the stars. Someone just as high as me. Someone just as *old* as me. Hucka, I realized. She never left.

Stand.

But how does he get over there?

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00310203

“Alright I’m ready.”

“Fire her up.”

rrrr RRRRRRRRRR r..r RRRRRRRR.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” doubled down Hucka.

“I’m trying!” rrr RR rrr RR…

“Did you leave the lights on while we were dancing?”

“*No*” rrr RRRRRRRRRRR.

“Ah jeez. I’m going back to the White Palace, Baker Bloch. I’ve had enough thrills anyway for a while.”

rr RRRRR rr RR. “Suit yourself. I’m going to explore the town.” rr RRRRRRR rr RR. “On foot, pheh, if necessary.”

“Goodbye.” She slams the door on the way out and hails a taxi at the road. So many here in John F. Kennedy City. The yellow line should do for a return.

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