where The Cross meets The Straight

While on the continent, he had to go see if it was still there. It was: the Bridge of Entrapment.

He recreated the scene. He was beyond the fear now. Being dead and all.

Elephants across the island at the end of it. Elephants are a symbol of hope. They cannot entrap him now. He need not dwell on the past. He is free.

Neighboring Vilania and its Safe Hub is something to be holding in mind as well. We know the link to the hidden village (of Utah?): VILA. Only 2, and this is 1 of the 2. Or actually 2 of 2.  A man drove an impossibly small car between the 2 last year. Actually several men, but one turned from green to red and became useless, more out-of-focus landscape all about. Utah (Utah!). Mirror Lake Highway. Kamas to Samak. And so it goes.

The couple of Rhodenwald were in the other VILA yesterday as well. Inside a Dark Mountain, the one feared by Christians there too, and perhaps rightly so. Like Hitgal’s pal Sangria. Like Uncle Zach’s nephew Domino.  A black community, in constant fear of their lives. So we brought them here, or Jacob I. did, I suppose we have to clarify. With his big, 3rd eye. It was revealed under his straw chapeau and all happened. The Joint Joint became a locus of energy. And it, too, is still there, with a direct portal from NWES City, of all places. Rhino. Speaking of which…

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clearing

The newest anomaly of Rhodenwald is gone as of sometime in the last 24 hours. A temporary madness.

Maybe that kind of madness will also pass for the country as a whole. But I don’t have my hopes way up.

“Uh herm, you’re showing a bit of an ankle there, New Nun.”

“No, Duncan, it’s just that I can’t hate this place. I *should*. But love is here. So much hate in the world.”

“Like the couple in the park,” Duncan Avocado in the wicker chair beside her said, referring to earlier conversation.

“Yes.”

He looked up from the bare ankle. “And the cross?” he spoke. “And the crucifix?”

“Yes, they will always be in hand. A second life must be prepared.” She pauses again.

“*Is* this a second life, a second chance?”

“I cannot say there is not love here,” she finalized, looking across the road at yet another symbol of red hate. Dixie seems to surround this oasis of Rhodenwald, a Meat City all around. We’ll have to talk about it further.

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cube

New Nun switched from the red to the gray book in front of Big Dick’s Halfway Inn and realized something was late. Really late, like 20 years. Red across the road was warning from the past, kind of Dixie but also not.

Bullfrog saw the same thing in X City last year. Bullfrog didn’t live long after that, done in by a red hatted crazy chick in the formerly “Mild East” part of NWES City.

Speaking of which…

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Collagesity

Later, they’re joined by New Nun and perhaps some others. “New Nun,” the male Baker declares after her arrival, “you hold the cross and the crucifix in your hand at once and thus you are valuable to this here current photo-novel, 21 in a series of 20. Wait — what number are we on now?” New Nun shrugs. Duncan Avocado answers more philosophically. “We are beyond Collagesity and the number 20. We are Sunklands through and through now, the true archive. Collagesity became too — bloated.”

“Bloated?” responds Baker, truly puzzled in the current picture.

Or was it worry.

Duncan, who cannot express facial features since he is a mesh creature, elaborates. “Your original version of a virtual village, Pietmond, was also perhaps your best, or at least best balanced. You had artists coming in from the outside and having their own galleries. Yours was only one of a number. Then the new wave of collages came for you starting in, 2013? (Baker nods). Parallel to this came the new galleries, Power Tower, Falmouth, the largest of them all, followed by the Red Umbrella followed by Boos. Before you had 100 collages in 6 series, a well rounded and contained quantity: Art 10×10 I believe you named it (Baker nods). Then another wave hit, the second — stronger and deadlier. Beware the second wave.”

Baker understood now. Before it was Kenneth Rougeau, Melodie Darwin, Mike Casey, Stegocat, Max Ernst, Baker Bloch, Julie Sadler, and others. Afterwards it was just Baker. The second wave changed it all. Forever.

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left should be center

The United States of Our America is definitely in some kind of Civil War now, and I’m definitely on right, but just in the picture below. I’m a card carrying leftist. How did we become so polarized and broken? We politicize *mask wearing.* *Mask* – *wearing*. Ugh. But we must carry on, divided but somehow still united, and face the true enemies head first, rising fascism disguised as anti-socialism being one. I side with Rhodenwald (right) instead of what’s across the road.

It’s why Duncan has no desire for Baker Bloch to rent from Life Properties also across the road at the old Rhode Gallery site he sits in front of here, pheh.

“Don’t you dare,” he tells him. “Don’t you bloody dare.”

“Oh, okay.”

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The Anomaly

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return

Duncan’s a sucker for Linden trees, but he better get back on the trail. He’s going to recommend that Pot-D doesn’t rent (from *Life* properties) the old Rhode Gallery land next to that crazy Dixie chick. Now follow this: the Rhode Gallery that was directly across the *road*… from the sim of *Rhode*nwald. But it all seemed chance, as people put it. A random alignment of no consequence. Pot-D knew better. That’s why he’s on the payroll, at least for the moment. Next month: we’ll see. He’s always on call, though, back at his home still in VHC City, raising up Boy George to be the adult man he will become. He’ll grow into my shoes, thinks Duncan here. He will be a fine replacement one day. Duncan has a really hard time believing he’s 61 himself, graying hair on the temples. Back to the center, though. He can dream away his little dreamy thoughts in VHC City during his off times.

—–

Hmm, nothing seems to have changed that much. The Baby Trump blimp is still present. The park seems the same, sans the pumpkins — not in season yet. Let’s certainly don’t rush Fall! Duncan is of course curious if a man or couple named Black still own a good chunk of property here, including the park if he remembers correctly from last year when he first visited.

Yes he remembers this nice walk too. But no sign of the Blacks, although one of the two might remain, surname changed. Did they split up in the meantime? And, he couldn’t help himself: does this leave room for *me*?

Crazy romantic.

Other end of the path: what appeared to be another anomaly.

Yes it was. The circumstances that caused the reported one last year — and got Pot-D excited about Rhodenwald in the first place — are still present. He better get back to the group.

Duncan Avocado crashes out of Our Second Lyfe. The anomaly was just too strong.

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customer too?

Hilter sat back down on the couch. He realized he was already chancellor of Germany. The year was 1939. Wendell “Biff” Carter sat beside him reading the red book and starting to figure it all out. He’d skipped twenty pages!

Right after his reading, he decides he’s going to head over to the Tome Raider and buy a proper bookmark.

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customers

Andy Warhole had been looking for Gabby all over town and finally found him in my new bar called Moe’s on the west edge, a low rent district. Art was on his mind again, and how to make money from it. “Look into your marvelous crystal ball, Gabby,” he requested, “and tell me my future.”

Gabby gazed deeply into the smokey sphere, saw the future, and then lied about it while starting to sweat. “Nothing, Andy. Sorry. Shall we talk about the weather instead. So hot, so muggy!” He nervously wiped his brow.

What he actually saw was a muscular man of reddish complexion walking underwater and welding a menacing metallic golf club. Heading right toward him: The Boss. He knew this was one a-hole of a man.

He stared at Warhole. He reviewed the vision of the man. He stared at Andy Warhole.

——

“Ok, my turn, my turn.” Andy got up, Hilter from the couch sat down. “Ahem: How do I become chancellor of all of Germany?”

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completio

“Pretty good, Keith B., dad wanna-be. But me thinks the head must go.” Both look over at the 2-dimensional version of Dr. Who’s Cassandra entity, at the eclipsed brain.

“Homer? Nah, he’ll stay for now.”

“Variables,” warns daughter wanna-be Kate McCoy. “Danger,” she adds.

Keith ponders what she said a lot as he attempts to sleep upstairs. 1 prim remaining of 60 — just enough to rez a bed.

Kate stays with him all night. Kate doesn’t need any sleep. Since, contrary to popular opinion and her last name, she isn’t real.

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