Tag Archives: Barry DeBoy^*++%

April 30, 2024 · 3:07 am

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.

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April 26, 2024 · 4:23 pm

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)

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April 26, 2024 · 3:47 pm

00420516

“Yes can I help you?” she vocalized, not turning toward the visitor, not bringing any energy into her words.

“Wendy??”

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May 22, 2023 · 7:00 am

00380411 (turning)

“I don’t know why they renamed this part of the lake Clear. ‘Bout as black as the other part as far as my eye can tell.” Eighty knew Forty couldn’t see with the other one so no need to correct the singular. Another victim of the war, let’s say.

“Meddling, pure meddling,” she replied. “Boredom maybe. The more things change the more they stay the same.”

“Amen to that.”

They kept staring at the still pretty murky water, despite the acquired name. Eighty spotted the octopus again, reminding her she had to meet her counterpart Eight at the town ratskeller. She excused herself from this wonderful but ultimately fruitless conversation. Her last uttered sentence here says it all. Black split up with a dam to make Black and Clear but it doesn’t matter. Everyone can *see* what’s happening, even half-sighted Forty here, Eighty’s wannabe boyfriend but only part of the way there so far. And, spoiler alert, it doesn’t get better for him moving forward. Because she’s got an extra 8 on top of the one she already has. Sometimes they forget which is which.

—–

“I forgot you were coming,” Eight admits. “Sometimes I…”

“… forget which is which yeah yeah yeah.”

“You too?”

“Me too,” Eighty reciprocates. She has to ask why to a lot of things to help remember the y, the letter that makes all the difference. Why split Black Lake with a dam that was formerly just a footpath bridge to create Black and Clear? Stuff like that. She stays outside most of the time because of it. Eight: usually here… in the relative dark. Sometimes sitting with Rag Doll instead of “sister” Eighty. Which is how turning Alessandra remembers the scene, finished studying the newest work of boy-like genius Barry De Boy. Men, she thinks. So full of themselves. She’ll stick with bathing suit clad Shelley, however imaginary she is… no one else can see; black instead of clear.

“Welcome back Miss Aless,” Edvin the matre d spoke up to her, like a page to a queen. Table for one as usual?”

She wanted to say, “make it two tonight,” but knew she couldn’t. Busboy Peterson had starting clearing her regular spot as soon as she showed up on the stairs, studying that painting from the future. Almost done.

(to be continued)

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May 20, 2023 · 9:55 am

put some quotes around it, move on

She expelled the black from herself in another thought to be safe zone underneath the old council chambers, a ratskeller they named it. Weed caller outer Heidi (?) use to sit right over there in the place, she recalls, her spot like Sheldon. Where was councilman Sheldon Leonard these days, the big ol’ fern? Anyway, back to the bathing suit beauty across from her. Shelley Stuthers, object of desire for Albert Douglas, Biff Carter, and maybe a bunch of others. Vying for her hand. It wasn’t open for business. She continually held the 5 fingers that represented a stop sign up. “Have you seen my latest portrait?” she says to the up and down white clad double opposite her. “Just a hand; combo of 2 hands, really — hanging in the gallery upstairs, we could say. Let’s go; I’ll throw on a robe to protect us.” And so they go up to stare. Stairs work, actually, ratskeller just around the turn.

“Do you see it?” she said. “10 fingers reduced to 8 if that helps.”

White gowned Alessandra saw Toy, Play, Mine, Thing. And that became its title, attributed to Barry De Boy again since it naturally fit into his “Does this look square to you?” series, being exactly 814 x 814 pixels in size. But he didn’t like to explain the work in any detail. Later, comparisons with Dali’s last painting called “The Swallow’s Tail” would come about.

https://rosiehelendale.wordpress.com/2013/08/01/dali-art-my-personal-favourites/

(to be continued?)

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April 29, 2023 · 1:11 pm

00380113

“At the cascade at the end of the stream that was his creek, Mike made peace with those he formerly warred with and screamed and hollered at. ‘Absolution.'”

“Cool, Hucka D. Thanks for showing up, by the by.”

“You can thank Barry for that.” She turns and plants a big wet one on her constant companion’s unyielding lips, surprised at the display of emotions from the usually placid, former bee-person. Insect no longer. No signs of antennae, even. Just woman.

She turned back, stared again. “Now you just have to figure out the Lyra connection. Prism.” With this, she and Barry took their leave of the place, my new-ish Nautilus property with 2 galleries now set up, Bogota and Edwardston. I had much work to do. Collagesity was *kind of* being reborn?

But I was also in Michigan. Let’s check in on Baker *Blo* there, where he spent his first night while distant relative Lottie McDottley was regenerating from a misplaced and mistimed hug, thanks to the ectoplasmic puddles that made sure all death, all disease, all foul play, was eventually cleaned up as in a refreshing fruit combo drink downed on a sticky ass summer day. Do you see how this keeps carrying over, Mike? The reverberations? Water would be best. Like from your stream. Absolution.

“Okay, alright. I’ll talk to Hill about it.”

“You do that.”

(to be continued)

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April 28, 2023 · 3:37 pm

00380111

“Don’t you remember? There should have been 2 explosive fires, larger and smaller, burning downtown before the change of INGO back to pre-film INGSOC. Can’t you recall?”

But Patient 00 Mr. Beech changed as well that day, becoming disambiguated in the resulting Endless Window.

—–

“Right there in the cartoon overlapped with the man,” Hucka D. continued with the Silverton collage analysis in the recently reset up Bogota Gallery on my new-ish Nautilus property, Barry De Boy right by her side as it was these days — changed as well. “Osseo,” she read. “Happy Motoring. Ossemotor.”

“I’ll have to pack first,” I said grumpily, unhappy about the needed travel.

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April 22, 2023 · 10:34 am

00370616

And so we end photo-novel 37 with more questions than answers, per usual. Many doors have been open; only a couple closed. Hucka Doobie has assumed a major role in the blog once more, this time hanging with artist or at least wannabe artist Barry De Boy, kind of Baker Bloch in a new, different form, perhaps a role he’s been dreaming. New Mexican locations dominated the 1st 3rd of the novel, maybe the longest extended time I’ve spent away from Our Second Lyfe in these here works. But the archipelago continent of Nautilus, still my virtual home, eventually exerted its pull, with all of section 04 being set there — concerned a party held by 2 fans of Edward Daigle, which Shelley Struthers also attended. Shelley, continuing her role from novels 35 and 36, remains our feature protagonist in 37. Also at the party Shelley met Amos T. Sandman again who has shown up in previous novels, and who is then re-encountered by same in section 03 (the events of 03, time-wise, come before 04). Section 05 brings into the picture a new Blue Mountain location I’ve been exploring this spring ultimately called Pink Peak. Mixed in with its posts comes more Nautilus stuff — I had Shelley just hop around to different locations now, exploring virtual reality as I simultaneously did Reality Reality up in the True World. Section 06 attempts to wrap all this energy up with mixed results, I feel. New Mexico makes a reappearance. Newt and Wheeler, Shelley’s father and mother, show up, continuing stories of their own. Squared Root City, where I had the first part of this section set, was suddenly and unexpectedly abandoned, leaving only an empty beige landscape. Other locations that I was working through or hoped to work through were also lost. I became discouraged. Then Newt, just randomly teleporting around my new Nautilus home, found a purple cube in a house owned by a man named Sand, resonating with Sandman’s purple cube populated realm from section 03. I had renewed hope through the discovery. I was still on a trail, a path. All was not lost. Lemon Free State still remains my home. I deposit 31 Real Life dollars into the bank of the Limey Lindens and continue…

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2023 EARLY”!

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March 12, 2023 · 9:08 am

sleepwalking

heading inside for more boos (part 2 I suppose)

—–

“We ended up at the exact same spot we began,” spoke Hucka D., suddenly finding herself back on the bed beside Barry. “Exactly the moment we decided to leave!”

Barry checked his pants but he was okay. This was no dream. Not really. Not any more than anything else they’ve experienced since this here photo-novel began, 37 in a series.

Then he forgot everything, the whole trip to Lordsburg/Shakespeare. It is as if the text at the bottom of the state never existed; no subtitles. Nor the top for that matter (Brilliant again). Only middle now. Barry DeBoy was on his own again, Hucka D. choosing not to take part in this reality. His mother as well. There was no reason for him to stay.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0301, Bogota, collages 2d, Google Street View, New Mexico, Willow Hill

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March 11, 2023 · 9:55 am

small European counties

Barry Deboy made simple collage-photos about it later:

“No luck, chief,” Officer Blair spoke over the police radio. “We’re sitting right outside 102 — been here for about (checks his watch), 17 hundred hours.”

“Since 7 this morning,” chipped in Officer Doublebush riding shotgun, simplifying Blair’s language as usual. Blair continued. “If that old scoundrel Charles Nelson Blinkerton is here, then it’s like he disappeared into thin air. Over.”

“Roger that,” replied the chief. “Keep… your position. Over.” Lt. Tank Bazooka had made a decision. The military needs to be called in. Hesitating only slightly, he punches the big red button on his intercom to start the process.

—–

“Wonder what kind of conspiracy theory Tank roped us into this time, ha ha.”

“UFO’s?” also laughed Officer Gore, riding shotgun. “Portals out the desert?”

“Shakespeare, pheh,” said Officer Chamberlain to this. “And now a surrealist painter come back to life.”

“Pop,” said Gore. “Pop artist. Like Luxembourg.” He meant Lichtenstein of course. Or did he?

(to be continued)

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