“We’ve got to get you back to Collagesity and remove Perch and see what went wrong!”
END OF “SUNKLANDS PHOTO-NOVEL 28″!”
Marty walks into the Table Room of the Blue Feather in Collagesity. I realize he should be on the wall as well: The Beetles. Like seen in Picturetown crossing a road, minus one — I believe it was Ringold (the bastard).
He said he would be glad to join The Table even though he had a busy schedule, being a famous celebrity and all. He said he was referred by The Bill, which I didn’t originally take as the Illuminati but perhaps I should have a rethink about all that. And The Bill’s influence in it. Wheeler, when she was ruler of this here Collagesity, wore a little “Bill Hat” on her head after discovering the “Gravity Falls” character of the same name from a book procured by Baker Bloch. *That* was Illuminati tinged — the whole takeover of Collagesity thing from Carrcassonnee, the former deity/ruler. And Carrcassonnee *still* can’t be restarted, just going “Iiiiiii,” for the most part, although at that one, recent party she said a couple of things more until a quick regression.
Who is at The Table with us? Roger Pine Ridge should be here but he had yet another engagement with The Rainbow Sphere. I asked Marty if he knew about such a thing and if, theoretically, he could become similarly engaged if, say, the album was Sgt. Pepper instead of Dark Side. He admitted he could… and he did. I asked him to elaborate. He didn’t.
He lit a fire and began to smoke without asking, clear reference to Eraserhead Man. So I decided to query about “Twin Peaks” and if he knew my role in it. “Jefferson Thomas might know,” he responded cryptically. I thought about it; I realized the message. *I* am the Illuminati (as well?).
(to be continued)
The tiles behind the stove were falling off. And she’d left the burner on again.
“Oh mom,” he complains. “What are we going to do with you?” He turns the knob to the off position and starts clearing the air.
“We have to fix TILE,” Man About Time urges, making his pitch. “Carrcassonnee has become Sepisexton, the 7 and the 6 at once, and is roaming the metaverse unchecked, freeing demons right and left that she can use at her disposal. We’ve already clocked 4 with the same name of Jenny.”
“Jenny is *not* a demon,” countered Mabel, present for the debate. “She’s just… very orange.”
“Aldebaronian,” clarified likewise alien Roger Pine Ridge, who also made a window in his busy schedule for this important discussion.
“No, like I said, there are *4*.” Man About Time remained fixed about the unfixed nature of the town’s chief religion, the one it is known for through the temple and some other stuff.
“Boat,” Baker Bloch piped in. “I recall a boat. Didn’t that crash over in Wallytown, though?”
“*Wallytown*,” stepped in Wheeler, “is something we’re *not* suppose to talk about. Not after the shower.”
“Counter that,” uttered Carrcassonnee propped up in a corner, unable to walk still or talk very much. She was basically limited to things that belong in a kitchen. “Spachula,” she offered further. “Scrape up eggs off counter. Will stick if not scraped. Spachula.”
The rest tried to figure out what that translated to in the latest Carrcassonnee limited language issuances. Probably something to do with eyes again. Or “I”s. Despite the split, MAT had gotten her this far, which was something, they agreed.
“Danny. What say you?” Danny was, once more, Man About Time’s right hand man, just like in the past. Pickleland in the sideways world, his trusty plunger turned back in time. Tiger.
“Radar.” Another simplistic issuance but followed up by 176 more sentences that I won’t write out but explained very well what the lack of radar meant to the Schuman without the N. Because there was Sector R to deal with now. “… mustard,” came the end of his last sentence of the 176, describing the color of the entity most responsible for the confusion. Earlier words in this sentence and the 175 preceding it elucidated a robot from a sideways world, probably Oz, who wormed their way into susceptible people’s lives disguised as a “best friend”, as he had called it. This was the case with Barry.
“Very good, thank you Danny. I will close then, for now, by saying that every state of the US is also a state of mind. Think about that.” MAT stares them down from his position in front, on top. For the moment and, hopefully, for the future.
Of the 10 people in the meeting, only 2 thought about bordering states with this, and that is only because they shared some of the same static, been out in the same snowstorm and not made it back in time for supper and a movie that one instance. And suffered the consequences.
(to be continued)
“I gave at the bank, bud,” she offered the ragged man with outstretched hand. He’d almost heard it all now. Onward…
…. to the temple in the center of Silent (groundside). Sep Felton (= Baker Bloch) felt there may be clues about how to proceed with the development of TILE here via the proferred slideshow. Red green blue yellow, after all: Rainbow Sphere.
But she was probably quite a ways off still, trapped in red and yellow unable to reach and incorporate green and blue on the far side. Working theory.
I know the creator of all this. He camped in the Rubi Woods next to my beloved Collagesity a while back. I was worried about him at the time. The camping lasted for days and days. Now I see it as a retreat. A place of silence. Funny how Carrcassonnee camped with friends Tin S. Man and Homer Smipson at almost that exact same spot way back in 2016, if not *the* exact same spot. I’ll have to get the coordinates. Far out (like Silent).
“I’m almost finished, despite this stupid balloon getting in the way.”
“Can I see?” she uttered with licorice lips.
He didn’t answer directly; kept working. “I… couldn’t get the hair quite right.”
Sepisexton thought: she doesn’t have any hair. But kept her mouth shut. She’d already been scolded several times for changing her position. There were six in the chair, and she got rigid if she used any one too long. Why were there 6 if she couldn’t move about a little? Plus this was a cubist work. Wasn’t he suppose to look all the way around her? I am Carrcassonnee reborn, she thought here. The “I”. The 7th has every right for the 6 to do her bidding. They were the surfaces of her being, as she sat here being painted. She dared to switch again.
“Awww, Carrcassonnee,” he complained.
Ah ha! she thought. He really and truly knows who I am now (!).
He showed her the finished project. So much blurring, she noted, but she supposed that was her own fault for being so darn multidimensional.
“I only told a fib *this* big. Not a whopper.”
“Shut your mouth,” she responded, getting the joke but not liking it. Back to the cast of “Burger Wars” for her, it looked like.
“*Anyhoot*, we’re back to where we started from, you in your position and me in mine. This is good.” He puts down his hands. “This is excellent.” He begins to whistle a tune of no solid design. “This is great,” he paused in the activity to reinforce the positivity of the situation once more.
Wheeler/Wendy continues to wipe down the counter with a nonexistent rag. “Do you want me to keep doing this until we can see ourselves in the polished surface, hmmm?”
But her rhetorical question was answered by the first visitor of the night to this central Nautilus location, the basically vacant, sim-wide city we visited before for a couple of posts in section 3. Man About Time.
“Ahh, my most unfocused doppleganger, have a seat have a seat. How are things back in Collagesity, #2?” We are lone mates, thinks Jeffrey Phillips here, much like Speck and Crazy.
“I took Carrcassonnee apart and then put her back together, as you suggested.”
“Great!” Jeffrey Phillips was pleased MAT followed orders or at least suggestions for a change. “Any luck? Can we get her back? How long away from the tree can we expect her to live when disassembled?” So many questions, Phillips thinks. I need to return; can’t keep ruling the place long distance. But squaring the circle is important important and thus the return to this pretty central location.
“10 days at most,” MAT answers the second question first. “But it doesn’t matter,” he continues in his mild way. “The eye, even when separated from the (6 sectioned) body, remains staring and unblinking. No real response. I say we move to Plan B. Or Plan 2.”
“*You’re* Plan 2,” Jeffrey responded, laughing while simultaneously disappointed that Carrcassonnee couldn’t be reactivated. Wheeler/Wendy continued to needlessly wipe down the counter, wondering when this was going to end. Another visitor shows up. Fern Stalin. And right behind her, as usual, her own no. 2: Lichen Roosevelt. The old Yalta Bar and Grill gang had reassembled. They were all here to talk about what happened with the crashed ship over in Wallytown. Everyone needed to know; everyone needed to be brought up to speed.
“Speeding,” finished Fern Stalin 15 minutes later. “Stop signs ignored.”
Later (or was it earlier?) he was looking at a portrait in one of the city galleries and recognized what he thought were the models. “Wheeler,” he muttered aloud, seeing the Triune that would always rule him. If he didn’t have Collagesity. He *must* hold onto Collagesity. He’ll get the crime spree under control. April Mae Flowers, yes, accomplished the actual homicides, he tried to assure himself. Didn’t work. He knew there were at least 5 active criminals in town (because of the fingerprince), despite only 3 registered residents so far. Danny, who tried to kill *him*, was, true, cleaning out his trailer, getting ready for banishment to… somewhere, Jeffrie Phillips hadn’t decided. Some place that has a lot of broken bathrooms, he he he. Or maybe where they all *worked*, ha ha ha, so he won’t have anything to do. Yes, Hell can be a place of complete, utter boredom too, he realized in the moment. So can Heaven — Heaven and Hell both… which means probably neither exists.
He must think of religion more. There are currently at least 3 active churches in town, or will be — they’re *built* is what I mean. Rezzed. There’s, obviously, the Temple of TILE, and Man About Town — MAT — certainly hasn’t given up on reactivating the old Collagesity ruling deity Carrcassonnee still up on the 3rd floor there, especially since (her replacement) Wheeler seems to be out of the picture. But all he can get out of her still is, “Iiiiiiiiii,” which may mean an uncompleted sentence about herself or maybe the “eye” that dominates her appearance. The eye is broke, he remembers — MAT told him that. That’s the 7th beyond the “unconscious” 6 prims of the body. That is the paradox of the 7 and the 6, the Sepisexton Enigma he termed it at another time. Wacky ol’ MAT, Jeffrie thinks. He’ll always be between one thing or another because of his non-fixed, variable nature. And he’ll probably never get Carrcassonnee to utter anything again except that one word, that one letter perhaps.
He looks again at the picture in the gallery and out of his thoughts. He decides (this must be later, then) that he’ll talk Charlene the Punk out of coming to Collagesity, if she hasn’t already decided herself. She has her business here, and can serve omelettes and other breakfast items in an untimely fashion. No doubt the local residents are use to such lags — heck, they may not even think about them much anymore. Like a fish living in water.
What he could even do is drop mention of Bad Kitten/Zado, Elsa, Darlene, and probably another one or two or three he isn’t thinking about. That’ll keep her here, he assumes. But he can always visit. Often. As often as all the others will allow.
“And that’s about it, sir,” he spoke mildly, as usual, to the new town ruler. “Tour: complete.”
Jeffrey Philips stares at the entrance to the new collage series, called simply Picturetown and breaking the pattern of former series, all of which are named for towns and villages in and around Jasper County, Illinois — a map of which they stand upon here, in fact. Like Falmouth housed in the Fal Mouth Moon gallery that Danny cleans up, for example. He ponders whether to go through the door representing the beginning of the series. Instead he focuses on the surface aspects; he’s learning to ride or jump situations in order to remain objective, like a good ruler should.
“These… Rosehaven people… from this Picturetown. Are they aware we are using their store front here?”
Man About Time looked at Jeffrey Philips, trying to gauge what direction he was heading. “Does it matter?” he decides to say, and let it rest on that.
“I don’t know, I’m just wondering…”
“They will not care… they are artists as well.”
“Maybe we should talk to them.”
“Why, sir, don’t we enter the (new) exhibit and see what they would see if they knew about it.” His voice was gaining confidence. He realized Jeffrey Philips helped temper his mildness with his rugged individuality. This is a man fixed in time, unlike himself. He lets time move all around him rather than inside. MAT wondered who the latest girl is… he’d heard rumors of a woman alternately named Zado and Bad Kitten. He’s been meaning to look that up on the interwebs… maybe when he returns to his lower penthouse apartment at Kidd Tower. And he needs to finish decorating (!). So lazy; but I’ve had to help Jeffrey Philips so much lately. He knows so little about what we do here. And then there’s Carrcassonnee. He resists looking over at the top of the Temple of TILE from this vantage point; needs to keep focused on Jeffrey. This was a pivot point of some sort. Will he go inside? Is he afraid of losing… perspective?
“Not today, Man About Time.”
“MAT, please,” Man About Time insists about his name. Confidence. He is ever so slightly — baby steps — moving away from Time into something else. Town, perhaps. He then has the urge to look left at Roger Pine Ridge’s new house which isn’t there. A sudden backslide, pheh.
Carrcassonnee looked over at the spot she had just been. Sepisexton she was now, both the 7 and the 6. It was time to move on from the great olive being and the great olive body. It just wasn’t working. Not right now anyway. Syd was a way out. And TILE.
She walks away from the new spot into the future.
“Hey Roosevelt. Remember when we use to be black and yellow clowns over in NWES City? Funny times. That’s where you started your stand up comedy isn’t it.”