Tag Archives: BUTTERFLIES

00490202

I intended to paint abstract today but this muff fascinated me and I had to return to it. The textures, the color, the lighting. I was starting to get the swing of things. Abstraction tomorrow, then. I promise (to myself).

“Yo, brother of mine,” he called from the window, sneaking up on me as he often does when I’m painting, when I’m absorbed in the creative work. His friend Bardie came along this time. I like Bardie. Good with words, he is; helps me with my artist’s statements and artwork descriptions. Good egg.

“Yes, hello brother of *mine*. Welcome. I see you’ve helped yourself to the espresso machine through the window.” Does this all the time. Sometimes I wonder if he secretly has elastic arms. Queer thought to match a queer brother (but not in that way).

“Right right. Couldn’t wait.”

“How about you, Bardie?” As good as Bardie is with writing words, he’s bad with saying them. Really bad. He kept silent at first, as was his style. “Good,” he finally managed after about 10 seconds.

“You’re good as in you’re okay without coffee, orr, good as in you’d like a cup of coffee? Choose oh wise one.” But he just nodded, keeping the situation ambiguous. I decided to give him one just in case. He can let it sit there if he doesn’t want it.

“Tell you what, Bardie, this one’s on the house.” And I laid the cup I just poured down in front of his expressionless face. Ahh… paper, I think while staring at it. Next time I’ll put a piece of paper in front of him with a pen to derive needed answers. I wonder why I hadn’t thought of that approach before.

This led me to Paperville and dwelling on the old days (TBC).

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00490107 (the green and the blue)

Where’s red?

I questioned these Freya III guys and they don’t know; thought the query nonsensical even. Crustaceans, eh? Am I right? Am I RIGHT? (TBC?)

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00480107 (front, and back too)

“I got my first full blown color tattoos right here in [Dokken Hollow]. Eddy, my Edward, was also my tattoo artist of choice. In that way and more. Butterflies,” she elaborated. “Red green blue, like the primary colors.”

“Of light,” I tried to pinpoint. “Not the Earthy pigment kind.”

“That’s correct. Combined to make purest white. That’s the navel. But there was also yellow; the gold chain that came later was predicted. This represents, you could put it, my connection with the Mother Sphere — Earth as you say. I am from this Earth and to the Earth I will return. The body is temporary.”

“Of course,” is all I could think to say here.

“Eddy — my Edward again — said the butterflies are the fish released at the core center. They work my way up one leg to here. He said the fish should not continue, poopooing the idea I came in there with. He said fish should be paired or countered with birds — can’t remember which one he said now. But I do remember the ‘aha!’ and the sticking up of the index finger in the air to also indicate he had a brilliant idea. Come to think of it, the yellow was already there too. He said he needed to release the Earth. You are from the Mother, he said. But you are not *of* the Mother. You are your own self, (in) your own sphere. Butterflies should do the trick, he said. Birds would be too busy, he went on. Butterflies are simple — pure flight indicated. Less Earth. Yes, he said, let’s look at some patterns and I can have the whole thing done in an hour, 2 hours tops. And so that’s how I met Eddy.”

“You mentioned several tattoos. Several full blown color tattoos.”

“Two, yeah, I flipped over after that and he did the back as well. A tree, but with the same colors, mix in a dash of orange this time, a dab of purple. I basically had to take my tank top off. And that’s how it all got started. I have no excuses. I’m just telling you the way it went down. At last.”

“Amen to that,” I say.

[delete 3 exchanges]

“Afterwards, he said he was closing at 5 because the band would be starting soon and he can’t take the noise. He pointed backwards, to the wall; toward the Bang Bang (Bar). I lose some business that way, I also remember him saying. Drunks coming in here from the bar, wanting to mark up their body in some way, in some fashion, often to keep up with the Tom, Dick, and Harrys of the world. Or compensation. OR — Tomasina, um, let’s see, Diedra I guess, and then Harriets to end all that (laugh).”

“Of course,” I say again. “Female to male.” I wondered if the mention of Tom was accidental but that’s just how my mind works these days.

(to be continued)

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00470106 (red = dead)

My old haunt NWES City: devolving and most likely soon ceasing to be.

For example, the interesting trailer park across the road from Moe’s old bar: gone. Moe’s former building with the red square now in front: empty. Probably has been for a while, rent due who knows when.

The 4 (red yellow green blue) into 5 butterflies (add: orange) weren’t fulfilled, pheh. Could they have ever been? I think in a probable reality this is so. Everything Collagesity went into everything NWES City, smaller to larger, and made a new whole. Subways were completed. The, ahem, downtown elements of the burg were better balanced by the cleaner uptown ones. A clearer core center was established.


Hehehe.

But I haven’t given up on it quite yet. Or at the very least Wheeler hasn’t.

(to be continued?)

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00460608 (What happens in the cornfield…)

These butterflies were circling fast around her now. Wheeler had been released, although Douglas technically remains at zero as black becomes white ’round back while white becomes black up front. Erasure (infinity). *When* she wakes up.

—–

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_Lake,_Sullivan_County,_New_York

According to local lore, its Native American name was Kauneonga—meaning lake with two wings (the lake has a figure 8 layout resembling wings).

—–

“If I would have told Bob the Builder up front that he had to power to fix The Burg’s infrastructure all along,” she made small talk with him afterwards, “he wouldn’t have believed me. He had to find out for himself.”

Her creation thought about this for a moment — the time lag of the admittance and the unnecessariness of it — then emitted: “Noot. *Logical*.”

“You’re *right,* Douglas. It doesn’t make sense. And that’s why there’s a sphere involved. Black becomes white as white becomes black. Another erasure to match the first.”

She wakes up.

(to be continued)

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00460312

“There she is, Emily. The new mayor.”

“*Not* the same as the old mayor,” replied Emily, trying not to look behind her. It was hard. And what was all that butterfly, um, *gear* she was wearing? But it was just all part of her power. She couldn’t help asking aloud, though. She leans over, and says not far above a whisper: “Butterflies?”

“All part of the power; perks of the job,” responded Charlene. Knew it.

“Who would *want* that?” Still leaning, still just above a whisper.

“I hear ya. But…” she decides to say since they were leaning in to each other, being more secretive. “What about Wolvie?”

“What *about* Wolvie?” Emily says.

“You know, because he’s, ahem, the mayor’s son. Like I’m the mayor’s daughter. *Old* mayor. And *Shelley*.”

“Shelley’s not in this story,” shot back Emily New Moon, tired of hearing about the old. New is the thing now. And Wheeler fits right in, she thinks. She’s tired of the mother-daughter-son talk, the Unholy Triangle. Speaking of which…

—–

“I wish, Edward, that you’d be more sympathetic to my plight. I’m *married*.” Edward, her Ed, was in danger of fading away himself under her new butterfly power and he knew it. Wheeler had to disappear in order for him to even been seen atall in this setting. He had no other choice than to wait in the background, biding his time. At the backwards flowing waterfall.

(to be continued)

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00460304

“Isn’t this a beautiful view of the harbour, Newt? Just lovely.”

“Well,” opined her opposite eating ice cream partner at the stand. “They could have done a better job with the line there dividing the 2 sides of the texture. Makes it obviously unreal. And the blurring–”

“Blurring only makes it more romantic,” quickly countered Wheeler. “This skyline could be any city in the world you want it to be, any virtual burg for that matter. It could be Sydney to me, Melbourne to you. Our choice. Just pick the most romantic city you know and you’re sitting across from it, eating strawberry or vanilla ice cream, also your choice. You like vanilla, I don’t.”

“We better start talking about Nawt Vaya,” said Newt, tired of meaningless chatter. “Why we came here. To this *rendezvous*,” he couldn’t help tack on again. Next time, he promised himself. Gowns and formal attire.

“Okay.” She finished the last 1 1/2 scoops of strawberry in one huge gulp just to try to speed things up and maybe add a little comedy to the matter, then continued to talk with mouth open and muffled voice. “Ow, fthatt *hurfts*.”

“What do you expect, Wheeler?” he said, watching her now deal with brain freeze. He decides to start while she heals. “Let’s take account of the residents of our fair land there in the center of Nawt Vaya. First off, there’s me and you obviously, then Lexi and Philip over in her house on the south edge of the property, then Fink is around too, then Jack is not far away as well — Jack Dogg, I’m obviously talking about here and not any of the other Jacks we’re attached to now. And then Barry De Boy and Wendy are up in that cottage perched above my own home of Newtonia. Do you like that name, Wheeler? Newtonia? Are you able to properly speak yet?”

“Mmmmm. MmmMMMMMMmm.”

“Obviously not. I’ll continue, then. Then there’s Veyot up on the hill, Pearl just up the coast a bit. Then in Juho we have Greg Ogden who’s also an artist — runs STAB now — and then I believe Nada New Year is there too, and also Carolin. And, let’s see, Peter Melanchton–”

“Gone,” Wheeler managed, ice cream headache finally subsiding.

“Right. And then the girl who’s suppose to take his place as summa cum laude graduate of Nawt Vaya State University and her, er, boyfriend I guess we’ll call him. And then Edward is still around.”

“Backwards positioned waterfall,” Wheeler identified his location. “You’re okay with that? Aren’t you?”

“Ahh, *sure*.” He was 1/2 and 1/2 on the issue but he really didn’t have any choice. Unless he did. He’s trying. Date first, then other things. Has to start with a proper date, which apparently this wasn’t. He tries to focus on the census again and away from the Wheeler+Edward continuing issue. “And then Princess Pinky Gumm.”

“She doesn’t count.”

“Oh…. right.” Newt remembers that Wheeler is playing that role, actually. “And… I can’t think of anyone else. Can you?”

“OH. I saw… I saw *Frank*! I totally forgot to tell you.”

“Frank?”

“Yeah. *Frank*. In Juho. At the barber shop when I was getting my hair cut the other day. I was getting the Butterfly No. 25 while he just sat there getting nothing, no styling no treatment, no anything. *Frank*,” she emphasized.

“Frank *who*?” Newt had to question. There were a couple, including a bunny man who hadn’t figured into the plot of these here photo-novels since the middle of the last. But it turned out to be Frank Lynn of GTAV fame.

“And Sep Felton was there too,” said Wheeler. “You know Sep. Butterflies again. Over on Corsica. She’s a stylist in both places. I didn’t even ask her how that worked, dufus that I am. I was *so* focused on getting it all chopped off, letting my scalp breathe again as Winter turns into Spring. I want the Butterfly, I said excitedly almost when I came in the shop. I didn’t realize the synchronicity.”

“You should always be paying attention to synchronicity. Why we’re here,” summarized Newt.

“I know, I know.”

“So… let’s start exploring and we can talk more.”

“My line!”

Someone in desperate need of a haircut himself, or herself, came walking into the picture. It, we’ll call them to remain gender neutral.

(to be continued)

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00460211 (the 1 that got away)

—–

“It was the perfect balance, Wheeler. Our Collagesity should have been integrated into NWES City, lesser to bigger. Red yellow green blue but also orange as the 5th.

“We failed.”

“But now we have a way to redeem ourselves,” balanced Wheeler, wiser in worldly ways than ever. The Baker Family here is still strong. And now with a new home. A new CENTER.

Let the butterflies fly I suppose.

(to be continued)

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00460205 (Butterfly Kid)

Now back to Jack at that other treehouse across the water — just beyond the rocket over there. And Fink of course. Bimbo? We’ll see.

(to be continued)

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00460201 (time reversal)

—–

“Well it’s just beautiful hair, Ms…”

“Wilson,” said Wheeler. “Wheeler Wilson.”

“Like the dams, then,” responded stylist Sep to this.

“And the Vice-Presidents, ha (!).”

“Oh yes, that too,” said Sep, barely remembering the latter fact from her “1800s Sex/History Education” elective humanities class taken over at the local college along with all the cosmetology ones needed for that associate degree. “Soo… what’ll it be today?” Marveling Sep was thinking while continuing to wash: I personally wouldn’t change a thing if I had such luxurious locks.

“Chop it all off (internal gasp from Sep?). Dye it pink. In *short*, I want the Butterfly. Number 25. I saw it on your ad.”

“Oh, *very* popular. All the Butterflies are selling well currently. Must be the Spring in the air. Time of transformation,” she waxed philosophically. “Change.” Washing done now, Wheeler sits up as Sep begins to towel her dry.

“Indeed.” This long hair Magika style is for the winter, Wheeler thinks. She wants her scalp to breathe now. Sunlight; warmth. And… a new man. Who is the same as the old man. Old Man Newt, ha, distinctive in his growing greyness. Will meet him next. Under the parrots, or as close as they could get.

—–

“What do you think?”

“Perfect.” But while saying this she was looking at the reflection of the guy in the next chair over instead of her own. So familiar. Where had she seen him before? And why was he just sitting there instead of getting his own hair cut or styled? Queer.

(to be continued)

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