NOVEL 42
1 day even earlier…
I found they’d arranged for me to stay with a prominent town businessman: none other than the owner of the red topped building that I’d had my eyes on ever since I arrived by boat from Wallytown earlier that day. Mayor Golden Jim escorted me over to his house on the western edge of town for introductions. We found him rocking in front of an unlit fireplace, apologizing for how cold it was and that he’d run out of “burny sticks” weeks ago.
Golden Jim immediately scolded him for this. “I told you Wendy would be arriving today; I told you to get your house in order; I could have gotten you all the firewood you could fit into this place of yours, pheh.” He looked around at the numerous cats roaming around here and there while sniffing the air. “And you could have done something with these *animals* as well. Place smells like urine.”
He stood up and turned toward us. An okama! A man who was basically half woman, although I’d never seen one up close and personal like this. He said his name was Majo, and then he leapt on a nearby cube stool face first and proceeded to do some kind of yoga exercise on it, another type of rocking.
“Feel free to use Fuzzy Wuzzy over there to jump in place a while and get your body temperature up. I do 30 jumps 30 times a day now, but I’m always doing this, cold or not. That’s why I keep the house cold because I’m so warm from all the exercise. My apologizes again, fair Wendy.” He stood up once more, approached us, looked me over head to frick’n foot. “Wendy of Alpha I believe,” he said with a kind of disapproving smirk on his face. He was staring right through me.
“No takers for Fuzzy Wuzzy? Very well…”
“… 28 (jump), 29 (jump), *30*,” and he leapt down on the other side now, approaching me until his face was only about 6 inches from mine. “I’ve heard you’re here for my *store*.”
00420211
When I awoke, I was encased in sand except for my head. Took a minute to figure out what happened. “Okay, *veeery* funny,” I said to anyone within earshot, hoping someone would fess up to the crime. “Veery funny indeed.” I moved around a bit and my left “sand tit” partially collapsed in the effort. Soon it was all gone, the fake body with no alpha indeed, as I worked my way free. I brushed myself off — Wendy’s dress, exposed arms and legs — of the remaining sand as best I could, looked around. Difficult to tell from facial expressions who the guilty one (or guilty ones) was (or were)… since everyone around me had what appeared to be *bowling balls* for heads. What gives? I asked myself. I walked up to the nearest one. “You there, er, sir. Did you see what someone did to me over there?” I didn’t want to indict the person just because he was closest to the scene. I checked his arms and legs — any sign of digging? None that I could tell. But of course he could have just washed them off in the water.
“Ask Okema,” spoke a muffled voice from the dark ball head of the man. He pointed in the distance to a crowd of ’em playing volleyball. Sumo wrestlers on a break from their regular sport?
It was time to find out who Okema was. Or did he say Omega? I decided to slur the name when I said it to be safe.
“Okay, chumps, who of you lot is named Okemga?” Jeez, one of these f-cks isn’t even wearing a cloth or whatever they call the undergarment, I thought. No one spoke up, just kept silently playing volleyball, with the only distinct sound coming from the ball itself contacting either hand or sand.
“Behind you, young Wendy,” finally said the true “Okemga”, which actually turned out to be his name. I’d morphed Okema and Omega into the correct word. What are the odds?
As he spoke, I remembered earlier. I was putting suntan lotion on my pale pink legs while Okemga looked over, no bowling ball in sight. Regular head — just staring. He admitted he was disappointed that I was wearing that masking dress in the water so he decided to create a pretend body with sand while I later (soundly) dozed on the beach. “Did you like it?” he said with amusement, ball gone now in the present too. “Enhancements — you should think about it, ha.”
I met him again 2 days later in town while walking around the red topped building one last time, big dreams for it shattered. I might have asked him out then and there (I can admire bodies too!) if it weren’t for Newt and the information about human DNA in the dogs. “5 percent?!” I shouted when he laid down the bad news at the Pink Hippo the night of March 1st. In like a lion indeed. I’d have to leave town with my tail between my legs. Back to Old Hen to shut down the original Wendy’s too. I’d have to start over… somewhere. I thought about vegetables and salads for the first time in a long while.
(to be continued)
00420214
Okama Majo rests comfortably on Fuzzy Wuzzy, his devious plan fulfilled. Heat back up to normal in his house — no need for exercise to generate warmth now. Cat litter cleaned and deodorized — no urine smell about the place. Wendy: gone. His similarly red topped store in the center of Kangerootown safe, phew!
And all because he switched around some of the language in his report to mayor Golden Jim, who passed it on to town council chair Newt for a final decision. Just a bit, and all from one sentence. It wasn’t that hot dogs from reporting companies in the referenced study contained 5 percent human DNA but instead that 5 percent of these reported *some* human DNA in their product, probably from workers’ hair or skin cells and so on. The words stayed exactly the same. He was just passing it along. If he gets caught he has what he feels is an air tight alibi of that it was someone *else’s* responsibility to proofread the document and make sure the words were in the right order.
Original sentence:
“5 percent of all reporting companies found human DNA in their hot dogs.”
Altered sentence:
“All reporting companies found 5 percent of human DNA in their hot dogs.”
Back to sleep after reviewing his alibi once more. Beloved warmth again. Makes him feel so lazy. Like a cat, he realizes. A sly, conniving cat. “Night night, Fuzzy.”
00420406 (LSD (strutt’n Struthers))
“Sato is from the North.”
“From the North.”
—–
“She’s pretty good — ‘Classical Gas’ I believe. But her yellow-ish skin doesn’t show up well against the yellow background. NEXT!”
“What’s this electro-crap?” spoke Martha Lamb/Wheeler to Baker Bloch, who was helping out again. Wonder what happened to former helper Newt? Anyway, he answered: “It’s Osamu Sato, a very important figure now in the blog, or at least the current photo-novel. 42. Remember? We were suppose to answer everything in this one?”
“How’s that going?” said Wheeler to this. Very predictable. And right on the mark.
“And it’s played by Kangarootown’s very own Okama Majo. Very close. Maybe the same.”
“Alright,” Martha Lamb/Wheeler relented. “If you insist.”
“Arkansaw hog calling by a Fayetteville boy named Don — insisted on standing in front of the stage to what he called, ‘have more impact on the audience'”
“Absolutely,” judged Martha Lamb/Wheeler, not needing to hear more than a couple of ‘SUUUUUUEEEEEY!’s.
And then, ahem, Shelley Johnston Struthers to end. Had to be.”
“Always wanting the spotlight,” Martha Lamb/Wheeler started the complaints. “‘Strawberry Fields’ again from the sound of it.”
“Actually it’s ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’… to go along with the Osamu Sato stuff.” The chorus started.
“Ah yes, I see. Comes with Osamu? I mean, Okama? From Kangarootown? Golden Jim?”
“Yes,” answered Baker Bloch plainly.
“Okay, let’s see them all together now. Even the one I rejected. I’ve changed my mind.”
“There’s one more figure we need to fit in make it all work,” said Baker, who didn’t elaborate but perhaps didn’t need to. Linen. So close to Lennon as Okama is to Osamu. Shelley wasn’t actually singing anymore. Just channeling.
00420408
“Oh no! Look out Linen!”
“Behind you!”
They gave Okama Majo a cheap high-rise apartment in town so that he could rehearsed with his new band easier. Name still pending. Don wants to call it “Sueeey!” — totally predictable, still being a kid at heart and mind and all and not thinking of others that much while living in his own self-centric universe. Classically trained guitarist No Lag V is leaning toward “Gas Solid Liquid Plasma,”, with her as Gas and, as she said, the others will figure out their own state of matter over time. And then Shelly inserted her own name into the discussion: “The Dream Emulators”. Okama? Let’s actually give Okama “The Dream Emulators” suggestion and leave Shelley’s for later. Currently she’s off in her own dream world over on the western part of the Jeogeot continent, spending time with imaginary boyfriend Eddy D’Aigle instead of hubby Arthur, who may be out of town himself acting again. Shakespeare never sleeps.
He knew he shouldn’t do it but Okama is searching old tenant Mr. Babyface’s Internet history for clues about his nature. What led him to take that small boat so close to that Korean Channel funnel, obviously marked on the map, and get sucked in, never, it seems, to return to the land of the living? Soon — too soon probably — he comes across Babyface’s theories about an alphabet hidden in a column of sims on the eastern side of the continent, the opposite part from where Shelley currently is; she’s just that off-base. Okama is the one we should stay with…
—–
“Orgamast?!” he shouted, spotting the name of the “O” sim in the Korean Channel and realizing it was so close to Orgasm (‘nother one!). Let’s back up…
—–
00420409 (from the old blog)
To introduce: All 7 sims beginning with YEO in Our Second Lyfe are found on the Jeogeot continent. So let’s start the quote…
The highest and lowest of the YEO sims are directly north and south of each other. This would be Yeolmae (north) and Yeongheungdo (south). Yeolmae almost touches northern coast of Jeogeot, just missing by less than 100 meters. Yeongheungdo *just* touches the southern coast of same, with its southeast corner barely extending into the ocean a couple of meters total.
On the below map [see former post], positions of these two north-south YEO sims are marked by an A scrabble tile (Yeolmae) and Z scrabble tile (Yeongheungdo). In-between we are able to exactly position the remaining 24 letter tiles of the English alphabet in order, since the two sims in question lie exactly 26 sims apart. In other words, 1 scrabble tile here fills the same space as 1 SL sim. To me, this relationship is meaningful, and equates the whole of Jeogeot (remember these two YEO sims basically mark the exact height of the continent along this vertical line) with our alphabet….
So finding this Jeogeot-alphabet relationship, I started playing around with inserting tiles in other places around the continent. My first thoughts were that perhaps the 5 remaining YEO sims (of 7 total) represent the 5 letters that only have 1 scrabble tile assigned to them due to their relative lack of use in writing in comparison with the others (j, k, q, x, and z). However, in experimenting further I fairly soon discovered what must be the most interesting additional relationship: the fact that the names of the 30 sims of the Korean Channel begin with all but *4* of the alphabet letters, these being c, t, v, and y. If we subtract the two sims lying outside the main 14×2 column making up this channel — the very similarly named Darcy’s Cove and Darcy’s Harbor — the weirdness is even tightened a bit more, since the same 22 letters appear out of *28* chances now.
I’ve simply listed out these 28 sims in alphabetic order at the end of this post to further illustrate the oddity [see former post again]….
And so we’re caught up a bit with the back story. To the present once more…
00420410
Miraculously, we have somehow reached the end of LSD Dream Emulator — day 365 — and its final cutscene video. A translucent, black and white Linen appears in front of a volcano and starts jiggling and vibrating (oscillating) as a red ball goes round and round…
… until the thing explodes.
Then the letter “I” forms over the top of the erupted mountain to emphasize that the Korean Channel is once again involved.
Because this is the I sim of Ichelus, also with an active volcano. Catty-corner to Orgamast, which we’ve already talked about. Can’t be chance in my opinion. End of LSD. Climax of thing.
Korean Channel with catty-corner Ichelus and Orgamast
Ichelus on the Big E
The clincher is here for me.
https://daily.redbullmusicacademy.com/2017/11/osamu-sato-interview
… the first thing I made when I decided to do a personal project was Alphabetical Orgasm, in which I designed an entire alphabet from A to Z, I created a series of images and then held a solo exhibition. Various parts of the media picked up on the project, and I did some more shows, so I found myself busy again, but the main thing for me was that I found my color. The biggest influence there goes back to the mixing of colors, the colors of Kyoto, that I learned while studying with the kimono designer that I spoke of before, as well as that techno feel, Constructivism and images are put together. All of that swirled together into Alphabet to produce something new and great in my mind. You can see it all on my homepage.
1998’s LSD Dream Emulator is a macrocosm of 1991’s Alphabetical Orgasm.
—–
00420412 (a dose of LSD)
“Meet me by the big foot in Kyoto. Oracle’s orders.” He hung up the phone.
—–
“Where *is* she?” Was he firm enough in his tone of voice?
He started wandering around. Bad idea.
Soon, too soon, he’d forgotten EVERYTHING.
00420414
“AARRRGH. I’m so tired of crashing into walls in this stoopid game. That’s IT. I’m going to invent my own game where crashing into walls is COOOL. It’s how you win actually. Enough of this, PHOO.”
Marsha “Pink” Krakow stumbled out of her crashed yellow WV and into a convenience store, conveniently placed near the wreck. Don’t worry, she’s okay. A tiny concussion is all; smelling salts from day manager Eddy Jeffrings fixed her right up.
Never, she vowed after getting her feet under her again, *never* will I drive in a “Damage/Not Safe” sim again. *Never*.
Marsha and Okama become linked through the matched events. Obviously a pink one. Like a tulip. Or a train.
00420416 (Natural World/ Rainbow Falls)
“So I think we can make a home here, Sepisexton. Get away from it all, talk about the tomorrows and yesterdays to no end. Dreams we’re talking about here my love. And no Gray Man around to erase the memories. He doesn’t come into The Natural World.”
“So I’ve heard.” She takes another bite of her ant beignet and mulls over possibilities. Amos T. Sandman points in the distance, over the waterfall.
“See those fish floating over there. Plenty more where they came from. I tested it yesterday. You can just go up to them and grab them with your bare hands and then another one spawns. Fish spawns — get it? I was running back here to tell you no tackle was needed. This isn’t football or even angling — no sport to it atall. Free food!”
Wheeler, currently playing the role of Sepisexton to Baker’s Sandman, took the inept humor in stride. Yesterday they had found the North, this place where Okama Majo came from, at least in comparison to St. Dennis (more on that soon). He said he sucked at a video racing game while living there and thus made his own where the walls don’t matter and there’s no shooting allowed, no target whatsoever to the game. A game about nothing. But at the same time: everything. Here we have the answers we needed. We’ll continue photo-novel 42 into its section 05 while keeping this in mind.
“Let’s go up beyond the waterfall to the sunken ship to end again,” requests Wheeler, last piece of beignet in her mouth, somewhat muffling the request. Ants, thinks Sandman to this. Sepisexton got rid of the last to save him from becoming fused superhero Santman forever and ever, a walking talking copyright violation. She’ll always be golden in his book for this.
Time for the dreamer to awaken.
00420503
He enjoyed his time in Aisle of Palms rehearsing with his new band but it was always good to get back home. Back to his private, two palm beach beneath the house with its lounging boat and tent, back to his cats, big and small.
Plus the fact that all that talk about St. Dennis was kind of freaking him out. He *knew* where that was, he insisted to Baker Bloch and Wheeler Wilson, discussing the different angles of the subject at the new bar — Bull’s Bar I think they settled on for a name. Yes… and still guarded day and night by Grant Price and his security crew as hired by Bull himself, also known as Dragon. Bull Dragon sometimes, combining the two names. And sometimes even Ball Dragon or Dragon Ball, although he really doesn’t like the Ball version; best not to call him that, actually, because of his violent streak and all. Some say he comes from fabled Violence District itself; killed not one but a number of people there; kicked one to death in the middle of an alleyway, the legend goes. Anyway, being an omniscient type author to this blog and attached photo-novel, I also know that’s true, and that’s how Grant Price met him because he frequented the place too. Gray Man he was often called because of his suit and fedora style hat of that color. We’ve covered that a bit in the last section. Back to St. Dennis and Okama Majo’s different take on the topic. We’ll pick up discussion at Bull’s Bar two days prior. I’ll try to keep up better, ha.
He sat in the middle between the two as they chatted. They clearly wanted him to hear to further the narrative.
“*Anyway*,” continued Wheeler Wilson-as-Martha Lamb, “rumor has it that Atlantis High Priestess, this so-called Libra Neptune from the golf course back in novel 41, rediscovered the underbelly of St. Dennis, reverted back to her old, whoring ways. This is all in the movie too.”
“Red Dead Redemption,” Baker said back.
“02, like I said.”
“Okay. How does this… just go ahead. I’m sure it will clarify itself if we talk long enough.”
(to be continued)
00420507
He was on the first floor of his Victorian house now working with the heavy duty computers when she passed by outside. He instantly recognized her from Cass City. Marsha “Pink” Krakow. But which role is she assuming under that overarching persona today? Secretary Berta Brainard? Or pawnbroker Pinkie Brainerd? Neither as it turned out — she had another one to go along with the new location. This is the way she bypassed her paralysis demonstrated in the middle of novel 41 and also a bit with the car wreck in the current novel. Like a female before her named Ball, she desired now to become a top notch comic. She’d warmed up in St. Dennis on the Red Dead planet with a smash act which she headed… without a head. Now it was time to up the ante here in Aisle of Palms. She knew psychedelic artist figure Okama Majo would be looking on.
She backed up and took the right turn to Bull’s Bar. Security agent Grant Price let her pass without inspection since he recognized her from the posters.
Inside a crowd had already gathered. She sat down unobserved at the bar and ordered a stiff one. She was kind of irritated that the animations in the stool didn’t allow her to properly close the front of her dress but she found one that somewhat retained decency. Only the bartender could see her anyway and since he was only a head, well, probably not too interested in her body.
She turned.
00420513
She didn’t understand. These kind of jokes killed it in good ol’ St. Dennis. The beheading was a shocker and a stunner there but here, just groans of, what was it, disgust? Even, what-*ever*? So when the main act started warming up on the stage to her right everyone who was anyone flocked over there, leaving her with, who was it? The ogling Thompson Twins? Obviously here for more than comedy or an attempt at such.
“Stand back, she’s mine.”
“Oh no you don’t,” said the brother, trying to regain the advantage.
Then when lead singer Shelley hit the stage and started dancing and singing to Linen to appease the band’s God, things changed once more. She became who she really was back on the Red Dead planet. Atlantis High Priestess aka Libra Neptune, inextricably linked with the other 2 girls in a symbiotic triangle.
How to get out of this?
00420601 (Castle Town)
He often came here to rock and think about the battle of rock vs. paper vs. scissors, which for him was won by putting paper (1) before scissors (2) before rock (0). 102 if read left to right, with rock always in the center like the ground zero it is.
He hears a noise outside. It’s 3:25 in the morning — no one else up, he imagined. Except ghosts.
He stops rocking, gets up, leaving the maple leaf throw pillow behind and thoughts of Canadian Picturetown along with it. “Who goes there?”
The right Wendy walks through the door of the establishment…
… with her first words inside being: “This entrance has changed.”
It certainly has, thinks Barry De Boy, very happy at the sight. It certainly has. No demo over her head now; he was seemingly dealing with a real flesh and blood girl again. They can… well, you know. This is what boys think. Boys like De Boy.
“The gatekeeper said I’d find you down here. Said it was his last night to work, the last hour, the last minute. Said he was here for me and then he could go. He put a Help Wanted sign on the door as he locked up behind me. I turned around just in time to see him leave. Go figure. Guess I’ve found my work in town after all.”
“Wendy!” he exclaimed, not knowing how to follow it up. Shock!
“In the flesh.” She twirled around, showing him the different dress. “And blood I suppose, ha.” She approached him. Dare she kiss him this early? It’s been years after all. Instead: “Share a cup of coffee with me?” She tweaked him on the nose, a sign of things to come.
“Of course! Over there,” he pointed to a nearby table. “I’ll find the brew.” He started rummaging around the back of the counter. “As you can see, we’ve also turned the tables to the side.”
“We?”
“Yeah, Me and Grumpy. We run the place now. Or manage it — Stew’s still the owner. Technically I suppose.”
“So no jobs I suppose,” Wendy spouted as she took a seat. She so so didn’t want to be the new gatekeeper of the town. Boor-ing, she knew. She’d heard Devil Dave complain enough about it back in the day.
“No… sorry. Can’t can Grumpy, you see. He has a wife and two children now (!).”
“Who could have imagined.”
“I know.” He’d found the coffee. Now to make the concoctions. “Espresso alright? All I can find.”
“Yeah. Perfect, actually. Make mine a double. No… triple. What the heck, let’s go with 4.” Could be a long night, she knew. Lots of restaurant talk to get through, potentially. Lots of talk about success and then failure. Utter failure. All tests show 5% human DNA, PHEH. I’ll get that Okama Majo, she thought. If it’s the last thing I do.
(to be continued)
00420606 (you *rock*)
She fell asleep on the booring booring job and came out to the town’s mall.
“… 28 (touch), 29 (touch), *30*,” and then the Vegetable Man, the guy made entirely out of edible plants, was done with his exercise. He turned his multi-textured green head toward gatekeeper Wendy in front of her station. “Join me next time,” he said, and was gone. Wendy woke up at her desk and realized Okama had contacted her in a different way. Perhaps he’s not bad after all, she pondered. Perhaps he is only trying to *help*. She thought about that the rest of the working day — no visitors to greet today; typical — and came to another conclusion for supper. No red meat; *not* typical.
“I’m proud of you, hun,” spoke Barry from his chair, knowing it was the healthy way to go. Now if they could just get rid of the blood stains, hmm. Karma’s a bitch.
00420607 (05 and 06)
Perhaps the last major building has been manifested in Aisle of Palms: the original version of the Edwardston Station Gallery, holding the entire “Art 10×10” of 100 collages I created in 6 series from 2004 to 2009. Not the prettiest of structures with its plain cubic form, admittedly, but effective in its role. 6 floors, 6 series, with all but 2 and 5, or Rose Hill and Hidalgo respectively, holding 20 collages apiece. Those 2 floors/series contain 10 in contrast. I’ll get to what occupies the other 1/2 of the 2nd and 5th floors in a bit.
The immediate prompt for me rezzing this structure is that I wanted to show Newt (or whoever) that the fox-to-dog conversion of Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate in St. Dennis recently was seemingly preordained. The Yale-*Newt*on series of the “Art 10×10,” its 3rd, dates from 2006, going on 20 years ago at this point. Gosh, where have the years gone (!). Anyway, when we reach the 4th collage of that series we come to this dualism again: fox vs. dog or, more precisely, fox against dingo, for the orange dog of the work, titled “Outfoxed?”, is suppose to represent such, as the orange-ish dog in St. Dennis is in kind.
Then in the next two collages of Yale-Newton, making a type of animation with each other, we see the fox and dingo again, the in-taking of water if you will (“Diamond Dog”)…
… and then the release of same back into the atmosphere (“Coasts is Clear”), as the original Diamonds sign on the roof of the depicted restaurant bearing the same name is multiplied 16-fold and becomes a country unto itself, let’s say — our country, built up from the middle, this Diamonds Restaurant in a central state of Missouri, until it extends ocean to ocean. A seed becomes a tree.
And then in the next collage, the 7th of the series (“Here’s Lucy”), we come to another depiction of the word “diamonds”, now in connection with the initials LSD like in the famous John Lennon song we saw Shelley Struthers singing earlier in her band audition at Bull’s Bar in this here blog and attached photo-novel, 42 in number now of course. So I have a feeling this could reference Osamu Sato’s LSD Dream Emulator game on top of the drug and Lennon song — additional foreshadowing. More on this aspect soon, I’m predicting.
That bubble topped mound in the middle of the 7th collage being threatened by bulldozers is actually where it all starts to kick in, the whole “Art 10×10” and my journey into the world of digital collaging. Looks like fellow collage artist Barry De Boy will be our observer here instead of Newt, perhaps gaining inspiration for a jump start of his own art. Wendy is a muse!
He follows The Beatles’ yellow submarine between Greenup 05 and 06 as it floats downstream, into the tunnel of night lights, illumination in darkness.
What will he find there, a fox or a dingo? I’m guessing both. In fact, make that a certainty.
00420608 (kenbaiki (ticket to ride))
She’d seen enough of Castle Town for now. She was buying a sky ferry ticket back to Kangerootown from whence she came. She’d heard through the grapevine that keyboardist/DJ Okama Majo had returned to his cat house there, taking his own break from Aisle of Palms and the Dream Emulator band he’s part of with classically trained guitarist No Lag V, hog calling kid Don without a last name, and animated singer Shelley Johnston Struthers who has 3 to make up for it and who specializes in Lennon songs like “Strawberry Fields” and “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” and the like. But despite that, Okama named the band, not her. All because of his artistic hero Osamu Sato, so close to his own. Too close. Shelley’s found that out too. “You’re *him*,” she said recently during an acid drop sponsored by LSD, tripping the light fantastic and drawing truth from every corner of the universe, only to forget the vast vast majority of it later, of course. Gray Man works in all dimensions when you’re on that stuff; perpetual darkness. Must – stay – away, she thought to herself afterwards. No more sheets.
on her way!
00420609
He caught up with some reading while she was gone, the cafe having a nice selection of books in back of the bar — 3 tall bookcases full. He was interested in travel books, since he was stuck in Castle Town for a while, unable to leave because of several physical conditions plaguing him at once. Mr. Goldilocks, Wendy liked to call him, because up top he was susceptible to cold while down below: the heat. The waist, she pointed out, represents the equator, the only place things are right. Too bad you can’t live there perpetually, she says. Between the Tropic of Cancer (points to chest) and the Tropic of Capricorn (points to private parts) where it’s not too hot not too cold. Great Belt she also called it for reasons unknown presently.
So because of this Barry stayed behind; didn’t venture with Wendy to Kangarootown to confront Okama Majo once more about his seemingly dirty tricks at the time. Cats’ litter boxes unclean, he knew. Ran out of “burny sticks” as she said he called them, so the place was cold when she and mayor Golden Jim arrived — stank like urine too. But this was her beef, her karma, he said to make another excuse besides the bodily conditions. “You’re the one who has to make two wrongs a right,” he said to her before she left, tickets in hand. “Last chance,” she said back. “The sky ferry is only half full last time I checked. You can sit by my side. I’ll help you with your issues, pass you an ice pack when you need it, a hot water bottle when you need that instead or in addition.” “In addition, yeah,” he said, knowing he’d often need both at once. But he’d already made up his mind: he wasn’t going. He had books to catch up on, videos to watch as well back in his topside apt. graciously provided by the town council. For he was something of a cult hero in these here parts, having famously saved the city of NWES City over on the Jeogeot continent from, let’s call it, abstraction. Drew it back into the real by drawing the real. One work of genius popped out after another. Soon everyone remembered why their town — nay, their *city* — was so great in the first place. The buildings, the people, the food, the arts, the crafts, the beaches, the sand, the sun, the *fun*. He must go back there too.
If only he could get rid of these bodily issues once and for all, pheh.
00420610 (fire and nut (2 crackers))
He began doing some independent research on the subject, starting with Orgamast which led him here. “My you’re a tall one,” he said to his companion also staring out at the Korean Channel sim. “Why I barely come up to your Tropic of Cancer, hmm. Are you that tall so you can see the sim of Orgamast to our west better? Do you know of Big Schwa/Big E? Are you big because of *it*?” He halted this fantasy line of inquiry, knew he was, of course, talking to a dummy, a manikin all the time. Not real; not even an NPC really.
But boy was he happy about his view. Reminded him of his ex, the only woman who could have it multiple times that he knew about or was involved with. Eve was her name I believe. Unless it was Wilma — no, not Wilma. Jenny? Argent? Tina? Argent Tina, yes, silver like the moon and just as slippery. Barely remembered her name.
“Argent?” Okama Majo pronounced clearly below him to make sure he heard correctly. “Tina?”
“That’s right,” spoke the dummy who actually couldn’t do so.
“Hmm.” With his more limited range, Okama stared at the round, green hills before him and then beyond toward the sea, the channel itself. He decided to get a better view from that watchtower just outside the window, leave the stiff behind.
There. That’s better. But What The?
An invisible typewriter?
He finds the correct fingering through the highlighting red after inserting an imaginary piece of paper and begins to type a story about Argent Tina and how they did it, extending his draw distance between paragraphs so he could look at the intermittently erupting Ichelus Volcano visible to the northwest. Inspiration!
But he wasn’t the only one doing so, it appears. Argent Tina herself, perhaps? Is that why the dummy is smiling? “She’s right *there*, in the fire, like the firecracker she is,” he might say to a tippy-toed Okama if the researching psychedelic artist hadn’t left his side so quickly. “Just ask. You don’t have to make up *anything*, he he.”
Ah yes. He remembers how they did it. Ray Davies style. If only the current Mrs. Dummy would see eye to eye with him on this as well. Oh well. There’s always memories.
00420612
It took a supreme effort for him to break away from the Big E or, alternately Big Schwa always sitting in the middle of his Aisle of Palms’ Kidd Tower dining table, ready for further examination and scrutiny. But he did it; returned to his hometown and his Bach/Reger/Kajiura played on a silver cello purchased in the Isle of Love. He played to his loving doll Mob (pronounced: Mobe), who listened with rapt attention as usual.
Good ol’ Mob. He misses her when he’s away… plus the cats big and small of course. And he just f-ing needed to get away from the band for a while. No Lag was pushing them in a classical direction, Shelley was pushing them in a rock direction, Don just wanted everyone to call hogs like him, like the kid he is. Be like me! he indicated all the time with his actions and speech. But bar manager Martha Lamb wanted him there as a kind of front man and bar owner Bull Dragon (or Dragon Bull; *not* Ball Dragon or Dragon Ball, though) went along with it, seeing the appreciative crowds. Maybe they’re getting *too* big, too popular, thought Okama not once but a considerable number of times in the last week as they did nightly gigs to growing audiences. Poor opening act Marsha “Pink” Krakow who wanted to be a Ball herself wasn’t hacking it, though. He felt sorry for her, was *envious* of her even. Furniture comedy, he speculated at the time, watching her perform only for the ogling Thompson Twins if anyone at all. Like Satie had his furniture music. “Pay no attention to us musicians,” the eclectic Frenchman spoke to audiences of his day, over 100 years ago, so far ahead of his time. He said to just enjoy the pieces of the art gallery they were playing at, and so on. And so it is with Marsha but in a kind of reverse way. “Just enjoy the musicians on the stage over there; pay no attention to me,” she seems to broadcast lately. A conceptual art comedy piece in the style of Kaufman or maybe Hicks. But certainly not like iconic 50s star Lucille Ball as she originally desired, one of the greatest of all female performers period. This was undesired art but maybe she’s seeing the irony of it. He’ll have another word with her about the whole, er, *concept* when he gets back. But he needs to stay here for at least a week to calm his nerves. He needs to stay away from the Kidd (Tower) and he needs to stay away from the kid (Don).
Knocks downstairs. Wendy has arrived at her destination. Confrontation time; brace yourself Okama!
00420614 (buck the system?)
He briefly though of slamming the door on her face and leaving her out on the lawn but he took in the different dress and the removal of Alpha and changed his mind. After all, he’d changed a bit too since their last meeting in section 02 with the whole Aisle of Palms band experience.
“Come in I suppose,” he said as he held the door open for her.
—–
After settling in on his comfy couch, she made it clear up front that she wasn’t interested in his building ideally located in the heart of town any longer. Red topped like her; she noted in sitting down that the place was plainly visible through the bay window behind the couch (see above). She told him of the recent dream down in Castle Town where he was made up completely of edible vegetables. This made her change her diet that very night. “Salad and a *little* fish,” she said about the supper we’ve seen her eating previously in this here blog and attached photo-novel, 8 posts back by now. “Barry — that’s my new boyfriend down there; anyway, Barry insists that the blood stains will be gone soon.” She indicated her Carolina blue dress again and the newly introduced element besides the removal of Alpha. The subtraction of the latter seems to depend on the addition of the former, if only temporarily. Or at least that’s what Barry told her. And he was certainly enjoying the absence of Alpha and all the benefits derived thereof. He could live with the blood for a while.
“This… *Barry*,” started Okama Majo again, truly curious about more details.
“Barry DeBoy, yes,” said Wendy in the gap (Wendy Gap). “Like Barry the Boy except with a De instead of a The.”
“Very interesting, yes,” spoke Okama with only a little sarcasm. He decided he couldn’t just blurt out what was in his mind. He would simply assume they had a proper relationship; he’d heard rumors in K-town when she was here. “Has no parts down there as well as up here,” whispered one of the concerned citizens while indicating the appropriate places on her body, an ally for Okama and desiring the town remain a hot dog free zone against the wishes of *then* mayor Golden Jim. For his position had changed too. And now a good chunk of residents are pushing for Okama himself to assume the job; fill the vacancy. So there was a political element in the way Okama treated Wendy. He had to leave the door open for *that* possibility as well. If the band thing didn’t pan out long-term.
But he also had the opposite dream: completely take over the Dream Emulators, kick out, right at the start of the coup, the SUUEEEY! calling kid named Don and probably animated singer Shelley as well, leaving only No Lag. For he kind of wished to steer it in a classical direction away from rock too. He had his Dream Emulator dream and it sort of looked like this. He would become Sato, in essence, channel the higher being from the North.
So: two pulls here. How Wendy answered the next question could be the tipping point.
“Wendy, I hate to bring this up, but there’s Bastard to think of. And Barry already has Hucka. Have you conveniently forgotten these plot factors? Or are you a rogue actor now? I’ll say it again: Are – you – rogue?”
For if she was, maybe he could be too.
00420616
“It’s simply beautiful here, Barry. But –”
“Why did I wait so long to show you this?”
“Well… *yes*.” It could have help swayed my judgement, she thinks. She could still change her mind, but… a contract was signed. Wendy’s Hot Dog Restaurant is a go! Except switch hot dogs with hamburgers and meat byproducts to just pure beef. Okama talked her into it, just as he talked himself into giving up the dream of taking over the Dream Emulator band and kicking everyone else out except maybe classically trained guitarist No Lag V, which they usually just shorten to No Lag. He’d assume the mayor’s position of Kangarootown instead, recently vacated by disgraced Golden Jim, fired because he’d called the wrong person the wrong name, it seems. Anyway, Okama = Mayor, Okama invites Wendy to open her restaurant in his former K-Town store (basically just a store for mouse traps, he said, waiving off the inconvenience), and then giving her a 25 year month lease on the place for 500 lindens a month. That’s the contract signed; too good of a deal to pass on; had to act fast, she felt, lest he or she changed his or her mind. And her affections returned to Bastard — wherever he is up there on the Red Dead planet. St. Dennis, she’d heard for a possible location. She hadn’t given up hope that he not only lives but thrives, and is just waiting for the right time to invite her up too. Hmm, but she’s locked into a lease now. She better think about a second in command just in case.
“I was waiting for the right time,” Barry finally answered, allowing Wendy’s internal monologue to unfurl in a proper manner. “I thought–”
“We could go steady?”
“Well…”
“Barry. I still have Bastard — you know, Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate.”
“But… he’s dead,” answers Barry to this.
“No, I refuse to believe that.”
“But… they found his *skeleton*, the Red Dead crew did. They *buried* him… out to sea.”
“No. Not true. I *sense* he exists still. I’m just not sure how.”
“All those rumors about him surviving and living in St. Dennis are just that. Fiction — fable. The skeleton in the boat was *his*. There was even his trusty sword to go along with it. Wendy — face it.” He makes her face him. “He’s gone.”
She was tempted to slap him for the stubbornness. But after all, as Okama Majo also pointed out, *he* has Hucka Doobie now. She substituted the slap with that harsh declaration.
Barry quickly looked away, almost as if he’d been slapped anyway. “She’s with someone else, I’ve heard. A Marion Star Harding. Never met the guy. But he predates me, even. Last I heard he’s in Gaston. Do you know of Gaston? I had to learn about it. I learned it from–” He stops. He realizes the irony, the *synchronicity* of the matter.
He recalls piecing together a document about the place. From wadded up papers strewn about his shed near the Pink Motel. Home.
NOVEL 45
00450402 (eclipsed)
Looking across the ruins of the Candy Shoppe — destroyed by Jack the Dogg back in section 02 — toward the Big Victorian House with the LSD Dream Emulator mini-museum we just saw his cohort Fink the Humann sitting in. To its left in the picture we have the Wheeler managed Bull’s Bar, still dutifully guarded by a version of Grant Price also reseen in the current photo-novel. He’s now working as a janitor in a Liberty City Burger Shot after a 10 year stint in prison, his days as head of SecuroServe long behind him. But some old colleagues are about to refind him and lure him back into a life of crime which ended his security agency career. We’ll see how that develops soon.
Let’s move inside now…
Further…
Alright that’s close enough.
NOVEL 48
00480302 (the return of All Orange)
“Dammit! Crashed again. Stoopid game,” and he hit the side of the machine with the palm of his hand. Hard.
She stumbled out of the wrecked WV VW into a conveniently placed convenience store, yellow fully removed from her attire to go along with the totaled golden auto. Mysteriously handy Dr. Paul Mouse was alerted to the accident, rushed to the scene. Is this her? he asked himself, palms sweaty from anticipation. He raised the shirt a bit, didn’t have to be much. Red green blue circling around a yellow highlighted navel. This was her. This was *her*!
Smelling salts revived her. All she saw before she blacked out was pink, she said when awakened. She stared up at Mouse. “I’ve been looking for you for a looong time, missy,” he said, a wicked smile upon his mouth. She wasn’t going to be able to get away as easily this time.
And so she became his daughter, *carma* involved for both.
He turned away from the pinball machine toward the clapping, highest score achieved for the month.
“Alice?”
(TBC)
NOVEL 49
00490303
Where did it all go wrong for us, Daisy?
But I remember. When I went South is where. Sato knows. If he is the same as Okama Majo which he is. St. Dennis was always South to him, just across the line from his home in the North, in K-Town (Kangarootown). He wondered why we would even contemplate flying to the place.
Flying? I can hear her question me in my mind.
Later on, after I’d gathered more information about our split through some strategically placed indigo lamps, she started weeping again. On and on it went. Couldn’t be consoled. Ring Woman.
Couldn’t be trusted was the bottom line, I thought to end things. Had to be eliminated.
NOVEL 50
00500204
Daisy spotted the problem right off. No Lag simply didn’t show up well against bar owner Bull’s chosen backdrop. And she knew he wouldn’t change it. Stubborn as a… well, you know. Daisy dared to voice the issue to No Lag; after all, who else was there to run the place. Bull was always “away”. Wheeler was she and she was Wheeler. So she felt she had no choice but to act.
“No Lag,” she said to her, approaching the stage from her usual behind-the-bar position. No customers right now. Rehearsals for No Lag’s band still. “You’ve got classical nailed, I admit.”
“‘Classical Gas!'” issued No Lag to Daisy about the last tune she played, which even contained the word in its name. Her hearing was worn out because of all the gigs down through the years; she can’t tell what level she speaks to people any more. So she usually just defaults to shouting.
“Good, nice.” Great, actually, thought Daisy. But she had to bring things down, *act* like she was kind of pleased but not super pleased about the music, the strumming. “You… the backdrop,” she got to the core of the situation.
And with this, No Lag just faded into it, her story no longer vital for the present photo-novel. Or at least the present section 02 of 06 or possibly even 07 (although a 7th hasn’t happened in a while, perhaps 3 or 4 back by now). Spotlight on lead singer Shelley instead. She simply took over… everything.
And new mesh feet ta boot! She decided to kick classically constrained No Lag to the side and take the band in a solid rock direction, changing the name from Silver Mosquitoes to just Mosquitoes. They became a steady buzz after that in the music industry. Not sure if keyboardist/DJ Okama Majo was kept but it’s a good possibility since he’s only partially obscured in the above photo. *Photo*-novel we’re in after all. 1/2 the story in theory, with one feeding off the other to make, hopefully, a new whole. It seems to be working (!). Getting back into it…
00500611
Probably the last structure has been added to my Nawt Vaya Free State property for this here photo-novel, 50 in a series of 50 and still going. Another old one: an abbreviated version of the Kidd Tower that was conceived over 10 years ago and where we’ve just seen Mr. Babyface sitting on the topmost floor of in the post before this one. Frank’s Moving Castle, still also in NVFS as of this writing, appears to be testing its flavor. 🙂
As stated, Mr. Babyface is no longer with us, having perished in the Korean Channel sim synchily called Orgamast thanks to that unexpectedly appearing water funnel or whirlpool or something. In his place we have Okama Majo now living in the building, also taking up Babyface’s study of the Big E/Big Schwa. Through his video feed, he stares at Orgamast here like his baby faced predecessor did before. He understands the meaning perhaps even better. All Blue. TBC?
stare, take 02
NOVEL 51
00510108
“A search for *all* FENST geographic features in the GNIS national database of such only brings up 7 hits, including a Finstad Lake (lake) in MN with variant names of FENSTad Lake and FENSTed Lake, which is why it showed up on my list since I allow those. Notice this is found on a Picket Lake topographic map there, which piqued my interest because another name in this list starts with Fence: Fencemaker Canyon (valley) NV, also on a Fencemaker topo map and with a variant name of FENSTonmaker Canyon. Again, why it showed up in the list. Picket fence, then, see.”
“Picket fence, okay. Go on…”
“All this stemming from (the) FENSTar (sim) of the Big E/Big Schwa sitting before us.”
“I think I gathered that (already).”
“Cool. Soo, this led me to thinking about the old house I bought recently surrounded by this type of fence. Why I bought it actually.”
“*Before* the finding of Fence and Picket in that list,” I tried to clarify across from him, staring at the Schwa side as opposed to his E side. We were just that complementary.
“Correct. So that… leads to this.”
—–
Karl enters the old house to discover nothing inside except cobwebs and musky smells. But then circling around it he finds this. Cellar door. TBC
00510111
He showed me the change. “The Jeogeot continent, before and after the addition of the 30 sims of the Korean Channel, logically reduced to 28 if you eliminate that little sticky outie place at the bottom composed of (sims) Darcy’s Harbour and Darcy’s Cove — although they have their own story to tell. More on that later perhaps.”
“Okay,” I said simply, readying for more.
“28 sims but beginning with 22 of possible 26 letters of the alphabet, far beyond chance I would confidently assume without checking the specific odds. Only 4 missing. I’m not sure it really matters which ones they are as much but just for the record it’s C, T, V, Y. So also for the record it *includes* the more exotic letters like Z, Q, X, J and K.”
“Right. I agree with you this is beyond chance. And… the connection with TILE?
“E is the last letter of the word TILE,” he said obviously enough. “I to E. I contains the little e that can be turned into the Big E — or Big Schwa if you’re looking from the other direction. That’s the key. It all becomes 3 dimensional now. We have a front and back of the thing. This is the great benefit of Big E/Big Schwa.”
“Got it. Sort of.”
“So when Spacecraft Andie stands before the 28 blue cubes representing the 28 blue sims of the Korean Channel and they wink out 1 by 1 by 1, that means the elimination of this channel, leaving a void again. We’re moving back into the past, before Jeogeot as we know it, perhaps before Our Second Lyfe as a whole but especially Jeogeot, the 3rd created continent. The number 3 is important here.”
00510204 (CATTY COrner)
“I know what Ichelus means. Bring me back off the escalator.”
Simple but effective. Ichelus.
1st step: getting rid of the duplicate Frank’s Moving Castle over on New I. We’re not going to move in that direction any more.
00510207 (beating heart)
We sent our Osamu Sato double of Okama Majo down to Denmark ME which was logical since he’s attached to that town name through the only two manifestations of Sato across our Great US of A (IL and SC). We’ve already reviewed this a bit in photo-novel 0042, post 0406.
https://bakerbloch.com/2024/03/31/00420406/
The Denmark in this case is at the lower edge of Moose Pond, the best known example of that name. In a much less known example in NC, it had already been marked with an X, the exact center between the Burke County line on the eastern edge of Penelope NC and the Burke County line that crosses the Old Catawba River Dam on its west edge. East and west boundaries, with this in the middle. Funtastic.
Moose Pond — or Moose Sea in Mythos terminology — acted as a kind of control valve for the entire perpetual river surrounding the planet, turning the flow of its water on and off as needed. The body of water’s size fluctuated greatly as a result. Okama Majo was here in Denmark in the Great State of Maine to see if any clues had been left behind for us to see. He takes a pic of the Moose Pond dam from the road at the heart of the town. But that wasn’t it.
—–
In checking around more, Okama finds nothing else down here Google Street View. We’ll have to move on; so many indicators, though.
00510209
The best view we can get of our much less notable NC version of Moose Pond via Google Street View. Still — something.
I wonder if these Moose Lodge people have any idea that they meet at such a special place in our geographic landscape. That’s what I’m aiming to find out next. TBC
Sunklands 