Tag Archives: Campbell O’Pine (Opp)^*==

simple walk

“What are you looking for, Crystal? A lemon? This is not a lemon. But: close! Over here. Behind the blue and green pillow thingies. Beyond the small forest of trees. Persimmons? Never mind that now. To the lemon (!).

“The boy is trying to tell us something. A magic mirror (!). I know, cut down on the parentheses. And the exclamation marks. And the capital letters, semi-colons and colons, parentheses within parentheses (etc.).

“It’s Ketty! Richard Ketty. Not Petty! He’s different. He’s from Randolph County. Wait!”

Crystal said she would take it from here, and: thanks (!).

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Pitt Stop

Her lawn looks like a meadow
And if she mows the place
She leaves the clover standing
And the Queen Anne’s lace!

“The car wanted to live. The car wanted to *stay*.”

“Great, W. Can I call you W. still?”

“I am the two within the one, the complex within the simple. Look for me. Balance.”

“O-kay.”

“Continue, then.”

“*You* continue.”

—–

“We are in the car. We are the rib, the singular, heading to the complex, the duality. Eve. Adam from. 2 in 1. 2 brained.”

“And what does that mean?”

“We have to stick to the simple.”

“But we are heading to the double. Double heads.”

“No (!).”

“Yes.” Simpler. Smaller. No exclamation point; no capital letters. Just acceptance. 2n1.

“What about left leaning?” I grasped, trying not to Fall.

—–

Flipping to the Orient, I knew this was about me, then. The red green blue yellow “tiles” in the back were me. The colorless, X-ed out head openings (“hello!”) of the Zebra are me, ready to reveal themselves in the move away from occident. Me. Sozzy Bozo has a mask over his eyes — similar. It should be over his mouth. Point made.

—–

I had to incarnate again soon, before the dawn’s early light at least. Else the night would be “wasted.” I decide a variety of photos would do the trick. Presenting: Snapshots from the East.

This was a kind of creepy one. Glimpse into the Abyss, brr. So cold.

Then lightening up as the red green blue yellow return. Goal carts! (red starts)

Traveling further back, 2 toys mark the entrance to a passage, perhaps of life itself. Ur-state. One toy, the blue one, did not “evolve” past the second. Both remained simple. We are onto something. Not dodging an issue no more.

We are now even before the start of the race out back. Orange appears across from the green, from the blue. Out of place. King Bill. He is whole. He is *orange*. Here is where we should have started. And so I placed myself there, before the beginning. Let’s try again.

“I found something, W.”

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Silver King revisit

“If we keep focusing on Nautilus I think we’ll be okay, W. The link with Iowa.”

“Successful,” concludes the other. She seemed happy for a change. Or at least happier. Maybe the change of scenery did her good.

—–

“Where to, Hucka? Post, Texas?”

“Next post for sure, ha. Have you peed yet?”

“Forgot, sorry.”

“Get on back in there, then.”

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clean getaway (fleabug 02)

I was dancing with Hucka Doobie under the red car and next thing I know I wake up here. I’m beginning to think this world isn’t real, ha. Oh well. I’ll wait until I’m called again, pheh. Hopefully something out of the tall weeds.

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Yes-i-am

A scientist that is, and the twins have fascinated me since their death and rebirth in 1874, when they were brought to my attention as Chief Medical Officer aboard the ever circling U.S.S. Ararat, also during a previous life mind you. Once I put such facts down on paper (or, these days, up on computer screens) it becomes real to me too, and as historically accurate as anything else produced from the annals of Our Second Lyfe. We’re working on it…

Above: Edith and Archina Bunker, fresh from a watery grave after their first lives as men Archie and Ed (photo by Telescope Ted).

From my orbital perspective I was able to directly study their 2 part brains — trace the duality back to a singular state, a Ylem Condition I called it, obsolete term now, and before it was used in Physics. I would even argue that the word was lifted from my studies in the late 40s during my second stint as a Chief Medical Officer, stationed over the Pacific instead of the Atlantic this time and assuming a new and different body with a different overall, attached name. Bodies, pheh. Can’t live with them (etc.). Now I am Rose but before I was Leela and, before that, Eyela. That should take us back far enough if memories serve. It’s all a long story.

The reason I can even talk about such things is that the attic of the house has just shifted over to the basement again, its proper position, since this is the third Sunday’s Monday of the year’s month’s day. Sorry to be so technical, but I’m trying to put this in perspective. I have employment of my lab and its microscope again and am not stuck with the attic’s telescope, useful in its day for long distance space experiments (see Telescope Monkey Trials of Xenon 10-C for another prime example of this) but limited when actually Earthbound, as I am now — in this house — in these icy woods on the edge of the world that is known as the Omega continent. My term again. Steal it if you must. 🙂

And, playing God to the hilt and influenced by my troubled water surroundings, I’ve managed to retro-engineer a man (!), an Adam to my Eve, except he came from *my* rib instead of visa versa, as popular Bibles around the Earth have preached. For now he’s just a Giant for a Day type of fellow but, maybe soon, Giant Forever as source material Genesis is further overridden and a return to anonymity is guaranteed after the erasure of a successful solo career (I get all this from Gabriel) — if I can merge 1st and 2nd so that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Here’s hoping!

Sorry for the broken sentences but I’m excitedly writing this in the middle of the night with weakened coffee drink due to a pre-blog kitchen spillage. Tragedy! But I can properly replenish my supplies in the morning. Starbucks, let’s see, opens in 1/2 and hour…

I call him my 1/2 brother since he has my rib, but he also contains the brain of an A.B. Normal I picked up on my travels to the Further East for more silk and other exotic fabrics that my tailors can use. They *are* really good at making clothes from scratch. Just not good bodyguards as stated before. Thus the reason for transforming or *enclosing* the house here with a hypercube, a psychic overlay. Big Red would understand, if he could move past the 9th and into a 10th and denounce the singularity as well, becoming double brained too. I have all the charts here. He could be the one. I call him my baby because he is always sans clothing, even though the tailors beg me to allow them enough cloth to fashion at least a diaper, hmph. There’s always the big litter box down in the basement, er, up in the attic for that I always counter. And he will be one with my half brother soon enough. Even now, he’s been caught wandering into my red bedroom in the heart of the night, picking up on future memories instead of the past. One day…

(to be continued?)

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completed Table

Grassy Noll had shifted one chair down to make room for Nauty, but he said that wasn’t what it sounded like. It was just short for Nautilus (continent) — he wasn’t some kind of sex toy doll, he reinforced. “Or was he?” he then joked, and repositioned the pin near his navel in a most inappropriate way, getting a laugh from Wheeler at least.

“So you can help with our pin cushion problem,” said Baker, staying serious because he had a big problem. The Nautilus map behind Nauty had been itself overrun with red pins, marking locations already featured in the blog and with more to come. He needed organization, he needed categorization. What is the true relationship of Lower and Upper Austra? How is the North, deemed non-Austran, really different? And what of the Wild West, the Mild East, the *Southwest*, where he’d just been with Man About Time? And then: Collagesity. Between Highways 13 and 14 that stood for M and N. Soo much there already.

“Yes,” answered Nauty, and then said he had a Rubber Soul. Baker thought about this for a moment and realized it meant he was beyond Help (!). If it kept progressing in this direction he’d need a Revolver to end it all.

“You mean *I* have a Rubber Soul,” he said to Nauty.

“Yes.”

Across from him, Opp or Tropp (True Opp) had also shifted one chair over to make room for another newcomer, this Al guy we’ve already mentioned several posts back, the last one set in Paper-Soap in my new rental there, the one in front of Soap Beach but in the Paper sim, the place where the dead wash up in banded groups, ready to be sudsed and bubbled for rebirthing purposes. Wash away the sins type of deal. More newcomers. Perhaps, secretly, Al with his multiple faces was one of ’em. Also: Nauty. Maybe Jinx Doll as well. Seems too coincidental they’re here.

(to be continued)

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short for Anselmo

Baker Bloch couldn’t help himself. “Hold on,” he said, delaying the meeting even further. “Lemme get another beer out of the fridge.

“Everybody good?” he calls to the assembled cast and crew while fishing out a Krings from its depths, including new gal Jinx Doll. Who invited *her*? he thought when she arrived at 15 til 8, 20 minutes before anyone else. “I’ll take one,” said Wheeler directly across from him, who wandered in at 8:35, the last to show up. Immediately before her at 8:25 came Opp, her true love. And then, before that (8:15), Grassy Noll, the most famous of all Mmmmmm’s, a species formerly inhabiting the Great Lake area of Herman Park. No longer. Now friend Wheeler originally questioned him about selling out his kind, but he denies it, despite being the only true Mmmmmmm left after successfully transferring over to virtual reality using his massive wealth and status as bargaining chips to the Great God of the Great Lake in ’64, just after the JFK debacle he was also responsible for, a warm-up act some called it. Like Wheeler, although she was only echoing what she’d heard at the time. “He took a *shot* for you,” she grilled beyond cooking and into simply burning to a crisp. Crisp Lake crisp. Grassy was use to the heat, though, and took Wheeler’s best (return) shot in stride, deflecting it a little bit up and to the right like he was good at — he was *fractally* good at, in fact, able to whirl it down into a vortex hole if needed, out of sight and also out of mind to those swirling all around, still trying and failing to become a singularity like that. Bay City was renamed John Fitzgerald Kennedy City because of it but that was only Alaska. Things happen differently it’s so cold up there, far away from the heat of the grilling and burning. It was a displacement, you see. And because of it “America the Beautiful” became the national anthem instead of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” But no one remembered, no one knew, Marilyn (Lichen Roosevelt) least of all because she was so close to the subject, a tree for forest deal-i-o.

Baker slid a Krings over to Wheeler past the face of Al, the second to arrive after Jinx Doll at 8:05 and the last member of the Table to be brought up in this here post. He has 3 faces, actually. That’s the story we must go into next.

(to be continued)

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hats off

“I must ask Horace Wise how we got here when we go back. We must be dreaming — perhaps this fits into his post-R.B. Hayes theories of alternate US realities somewhere. Wake up, I say to this witchery of yours. Wake up!”

“Oh shut your gob,” Misty spat out to her thought-to-be future husband Septimius Felton, not worried at all that they were back at the painter’s place. A painter paints, a collagist collages. Paperweight is both. But here… *here*.

“Time to jump back in the lake,” she commanded.

“Again?” Wake up, he said in his head this time. Wake up! Down they go.

But he must admit it was pretty good fun for irreality.

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A Fleabug’s Life

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breakthrough

—–

White as Heaven, he stood at the open door on the back of the windmill, watching from a distance. Black, he determined. And probably red as well. He should join them, make his presence known. What does he have to hide *now*?

He quickly hides his red hand from observation, a medical condition but also blood. Our Duncan Avocado. He was also looking for something. He’d lost his cap, perhaps in the woods. He was scratching his head, wondering where it went, but then realized this exposed his weakness to the white guy up the hill. He’s also on something, as in onto something. A box. Could this be… Borneo?

As the white guy approached, he thinks back to Scratchy (sim) and another weakness exposed. The inability to keep track of the one thing in life he is responsible for: George. “White as Heaven” was there. He had some advice to dispense. “You’ve been working on the railroad. I can tell (by your hands).”

Was it a labor of love? he thought after the brief conversation was over. Bart might know. If he wasn’t dead as well.

“Go to the Red,” the white guy essentially commanded. The Old White Lady did. Your *ma*.

He somehow got stuck in the windmill on his way over. Back to square one.

Later: Duncan’s soup disappeared and he knew he was in trouble.

(to be continued)

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