Sunklands

… the Latona series appears to be finished already, just like that. Quick last inning — three pictures and you’re out.”

Hucka. D:

Good work baker b. Now you must stop the other collage series.

bb:

Yeah I know. I’ll work on that tomorrow.

Hucka D.:

Latona is balanced energy. Almost extended itself into animation. You are moving between the Art 10×10 and Baker Bloch in England for this one [Gilatona as a whole]. Next up is Lis. 4 or 5 collages to end. *Or* you could turn back to carcasses.

bb:

We’ll analyze the Latona series as a whole in a little bit, perhaps starting even tomorrow. Then I have to clean up some of the collages still, like the triptych just completed. Also Latona 05. And Gila 07 and maybe 09. Focus should shift out into the world, into the parks. Frank and Herman Einstein!

Hucka D.:

Little Wiltshire?

bb:

Probably Hucka D. Probably this Sunday. Maybe revisit Lion’s Roar. But most likely Little Wiltshire.

Hucka D.: (after a pause)

The King and Queen have returned.

bb:

I’m thinking the latter now. I want to build upon Carrcass-8. I don’t think I’ll be looking at it a lot, Hucka D., although it is obviously very synchy.

Hucka D.:

You just went back in time.

bb:

Yeah I did (smiles). Obviously, Hucka D., I can’t build a type of Billfork, a Lion’s Roar, on Bill Mountain. That would be just foolish knowing what I know.

Hucka D.:

Your focus has been away from that mountain for a while.

—–

Just completed another carrcass, miraculously enough. This sucker’s 15 minutes long, and would satisfy a purist’s approach. Completed so quickly I don’t have a real name for it, but it’s obviously also Carrcass-8 in blog terminology. My fear a bit is that it stole some energy from the Latona progression of collages, but this may be unfounded. My projection is that only 4 more collages remain in the series, if it keeps to the 10×10 tier pattern of unfoldment. I also had an idea of maybe a smaller series on top of this of 4 or 5 collages, but this may be a projection of Carrcass-8 onto these more standard collages instead (C-8 uses 5 audiovisual tiles, plus 2 more (framing) dialog tiles). What is the meaning of C-8? Well, it seems to be all about the confusion surrounding aliens and alien abduction and the e.t. topic in general. Pertinent quote from Agent Mulder in warning about attempting to write of such contact to a prospective genre author on the subject…

http://www.insidethex.co.uk/transcrp/scrp320.htm

“You’ll perform a disservice through a field of inquiry that has always struggled for respectability. You’re a gifted writer, but no amount of talent could describe the events that occurred in any realistic vein because they deal with alternative realities that we’ve yet to comprehend. And when presented in the wrong way, in the wrong context, the incidents and the people involved in them can appear foolish, if not downright psychotic.”

It won’t be long at all until I take to the woods again, camera in hand. I’ve already made contact, although the aliens have gone back to their home planet after another short stop on Aldebaran.

Hucka D.:

Of course the Latona series will continue. Don’t they all?

—–

I also think of R. Booger Hayes searching for truth in an elusive 4-dimensional (5?) book published during the pre-protected period, the start of the variant United States of Amereca, speaking of confusing. Hayes has gone forward in time to talk to us in this blog to find the answers. He so dearly wishes his fellow Amerecans can be saved; unchained. Fremont becomes a psychic center. Can it? Is it just a dream?

http://www.thiel-a-vision.com/?p=3092

So next I’ll return back to the woods, seeking more answers. Well, I have an answer — there is “something out there.” Where to go now? Little Wiltshire? Initially I must certainly return to TILE Creek. Also Concreek. The blog will keep emphasizing these type of Frank and Herman Park creeks — over and over. It will not switch to a blog primarily focused on Wiltshire County England and crop circles, although I think now those will be woven beneath the surface as a type of permanent subtext. Are Frank and Herman Parks based on Wiltshire ideas? It is the continual efforts of the Latona series that is attempting to clarify this some. Next up might be the Savernake Forest, or West Woods. Brian Robert Marshall remains an important conduit. Yes, Latona will continue.

“All people, women and men, black and white, were needed to make this country what it should be. All should have a vote, because each soul is unique and important and self contained. You cannot judge a soul and its progress. You must allow it singularity.”

“Wise words, Booger,” said Hucka D. The Bee. “Red and blue — the 2 party system, can only work when each person regardless of race or sex, has that singularity, that vote. Amen.”

“I was told the pineapple could set people free, unchain them. All would be seen as equal after that. So I said: Yes, I’ll help. I’ll become the first president of the United States who is not the president of the United States. Sure — if it will help save the nation in the long run. The Civil War had deeply damaged the nation. I took it into a probable reality — that the word? Variant.”

“Don’t worry Booger,” said Hucka D. “Baker and I have problems with that terminology as well. Here, do you want another corndog? Would… do you need some extra mustard?”

“What of Ruustre?” I asked.

Hucka D. hastened an excuse for my actions. “He’s always thinking of the Ozmo characters, Booger. You’ll have to forgive him. Soon he’ll ask about Skillet, then Eye, then Square. It will go on.”

Booger wipes mustard from the tip of his mustache with a conveniently placed handkerchief as he continues to gnaw on a corndog. “Well it’s understandable. The maps and all.”

“I mean, you’re eating a corndog after all, Mr. President,” I tried to continue. “Sorry… Booger.”

“Yes, call me Booger for certain. Or Hayes even. Just Hayes. Or just Booger.”

“Will you, for example, be presiding over my Table now?”

Booger smacks his lips. I didn’t like it but I of course didn’t say anything. Table manners are subjective.

“Who do you have there already?” he queried.

“Well, let’s see. The Kniks, which are only 1 Knik really. Marty of The Beetles and also Lemon, I suppose. Then Peter Gabriel.”

“He’s the one that’s not a variant, Mr. Pres… er, Booger,” explained Hucka D. for me.

“I’ve heard of those,” came the reply. “Listen, how much ready cash does this… group… have on hand?”

“Not much,” I answered. “Maybe 50 bucks a month. That would be about 5 dollars to you.”

“No, I understand the conversion,” he answered confidently. He peered up into the corner of the Big Chimney cabin in thought. “What’s your ultimate plan?”

“I thought I would view the carrcasses as time capsules of sorts. I would create them in the here and now, to be opened or re-created, as I put it, in the future. 2052 is a loose date for the opening, Booger.”

“How many of these… carrcasses do you have?” I then realized he looked a bit like bad guy Dr. Worley from SID’s 1st Oz.

“Oh close to 40 now, Booger. Enough to begin tracing a musical history of at least rock and roll.”

He continued to munch as he polished off the current corndog. Hucka D. came back from the small kitchen in the rear with another. Booger thanked him, grasped the new dog in his left hand, and handed Hucka the bare stick of the former with his right. He then bit off the top of the new one.

“How does Winesap play a role in this?” He paused, smacked his lips again. “Is Winesap also a carrcass?” He looked straight at me.

“I don’t know, Mr… Booger.”

“Because,” he continued, “you’ve got to get to Winesap, the crux of the biscuit.”

“Oh, and Zapple is at The Table as well, Booger,” I reinforced.

“Good, good. I know Zapple, or have run into him a couple of times. Good man. Negative but good. Will turn it around over time, I’m told. So this is his penance, these… carrcasses.”

“Maybe… dunno” I answered. I looked over at Hucka D. but he was busy making tea in a corner of the room.

“Tell you what young man,” he then said to me. “I’ll send this Zapple around to you and get the gist of this biscuit.” He rose and simultaneously winked at me. Was this it?

This was it. Hucka D. returned with tea for us, but it was just a white background now. No Booger, no island retreat with its Big Chimney, no Ohio evening chill.

“What was that Hucka D.?” I asked while sipping his overhot tea very gingerly.

“He wants to know how to penetrate Arkansas,” came the answer.