She needs something in her midriff. About, right… there. Don’t worry; doesn’t hurt. It’s all play.
Afterwards, she gives thanks to handy Ganesh for the gift of the new beginning. She’s able to turn herself off now at will. She can return home.
“Get the f- out of here. And take your dangly red legs with you too!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0515, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File, Wild West
https://bakerbloch.com/2021/11/10/00300110/
https://bakerbloch.com/2022/03/22/00320212/
“Who are you?”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0218, Blue Mountain, Country Park, Jeogeot, Newtown
A triangle of rocks before Fern Wall, before reaching the Delta, even further before the Mystery Cave, as we’ll still call it. I had the impression that 3 “tribes” meet here to talk of differences and similarities. Some kind of wood entities I’m talking about here. Just up the path from another rock I call Guidance which marks the boundary between known and unknown for most. Not me, though. Not any more. I’ve gotten *that* far.
Deeper into what most still call the Unknown but which I’m dubbing Newfound Lands. That tent on the Delta owned by Erik or Erik’s son, who knows Stan who knows Jim who knows Tom. Interesting colors — blue and yellow. 2 colors which are on a lot of people’s minds these days. And Baker Bloch last night purchased a freebie blue and yellow tent in the game that is Our Second Lyfe, along with a similarly 2 toned balloon and, let’s see, I think I got a Ukrainian sleeping bag as well in the deals. A lot of the world — and the unknown — is about coordination of symbols through space and time. Maybe all of it. Whatever we call him (or her), this Erik *did* camp at the relatively remote Delta and left his tent behind as a marker. I just happen to find it during a conflict between Ukraine and a bullying neighbor, cities and towns left in shambles just like this tent. The Delta represents an obvious center to my Newfound Lands and one I’ll keep going back to for more symbol gathering I’m sure. Most likely.
Mystery Cave now, perched high on a cliff above Delta. To my surprise a bit, there’s an actual opening here that, oh say a man (or woman) just shorter than high grass could amble through without stooping his (or her) head. Just saying. Really, it was a remarkable crevasse — again I’ll come back to it soon with more pics and stories. This little person who went inside the mouth — name was Carter, like our Biff. We have that much.
At Mystery Cave looking down on the Delta. You can see almost its whole triangular surface from this pic, River to left, South Branch at top, and then North Branch just hidden by the downslope in the foreground. Branch (feeding both North and South at western point of the triad) just off picture to the right. Another glorious day in the mtns. by the way, with temps in the lower to mid 60s. Again this is a pretty remote location. Quiet except for the highway about two miles off to the south. I’m so curious about the Delta camper now, but all I have are symbols and signs. No way to know who it actually is, and perhaps that’s the point. Filling in the picture of the unknowable.
And I’ve saved the best for last: more photos of that Monolith thingie just up the hill from the cave. It’s not quite as big as I expected up front and close, but it’s certainly still Monolith-y with its jutting position, rectangular appearance, and thin depth. I still believe it’s, let’s say, “man-made”. More on that soon too.
Filed under *REALITY, 0032, 0214, Blue Mountain, Country Park
Apologies to the reader: I couldn’t get a decent shot of Fern Wall or Fern Hole today. I certainly will return there and take additional photos on perhaps an overcast day, bringing out the colors more.
Moving on to Delta, then, just to the north, just up the cliff path following the River. In checking today, it kind of is a true delta, with the small stream at the head of it splitting into 2 smaller streams there, one proceeding down the southern side to the River, and the other following the northern border of the flat, triangular piece of land to same. So that’s North Branch, we’ll call it — and I guess this makes the feeder stream merely Branch to simplify — and South Branch, with River defining the 3rd side, or base, of the thing.
Below is a picture of a ruined tent near its center. Someone must have camped here for a while. Mystery Person. Or someone wanted to *indicate* that a person stayed here, hmm.
The Delta also contains several small trees (have to check what kind) with cow bones littered around their base. More symbols? Delta as location of the dead?
It just occurred to me that the site may have been manufactured. I’ll ponder on that strange idea further. The Delta may have been created, but perhaps not by man. Maybe humanoid but maybe not man.
Then it’s on to Mystery Cave this fair day, just north of Delta and visible from anywhere on its triangular territory. As I think I stated, I don’t believe this is a real cave, although I still haven’t examined the “mouth” (dark crevasse anyway) up close. Maybe tomorrow, slated to be another beautiful day in the NC mountains.
Appropriately, mysterious paths are found on the cliffs surrounding Mystery Cave, adding to the mystique of the location in general, Fern Hole/Wall, Delta, and Mystery Cave in toto. Oddly shaped trees, etc….
… with the etc. now including what appears to be a Monolith, again from the distance. I will also check this up close tomorrow, but on my hike today it clearly stuck out as peculiar. If it truly turns out to be worthy of the moniker Monolith then the person who camped on the Delta perhaps just turned into Erik. Or Eric. Or perhaps his son.
More soon.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0212, Blue Mountain, Country Park
“I remember the circle squared, Hucka. Can I call you Hucka without the D? Or Doobie?”
“Call me whatever you like. Fred if you wish.” Hucka D. looked around at the same old place. The Old Same Place.
“That would, I suppose, be looking at the bell from below.” He peered at the old photo, then switched it back to Nautilus, the present square and circle combined. Gordie Down’s head blinked off, as if he’d fallen asleep. Wee Norris on his shoulders came around the bend like on a carousel and took over. “So here we are.”
“Fountain,” Hucka D. corrected after giving it some thought. “1/2 and 1/2, though, although we aren’t suppose to talk about that.”
“Limit saying that, yes,” Baker Bloch understood. So many 12 Oz Mouse references in their talkings, like it was the center of the Universe and not Clyde. But everyone knew it was Clyde. Trouble is, no one could get there to see what it was like, not even Gordie Down, although he continually reads about it dawn to dusk and dawn to dusk. Billie Jean Kidd dreams about it as well: a wanted paradise of sorts for her. Add in NORRIS and you get a 40 year stretch of history, not 20, a 2 fer 1 kind of deal-i-o or sumtin. That was the secret of Wheeler on top of Wilson. And Wilson on Wheeler – 1/2 and 1/2 again.
“Baker,” Hucka D. interrupted my reverie, as she was suppose to do here. “I… have to go.”
“Wee wee,” but he didn’t mean yes yes. Okay, 1/2 and 1/2. STOP
GO “I’m back. Someone needs to clean up in there.”
“Last owners,” I clarified. “It was as if the filth was baked in back there in the shadows, the darkness. Same in the bedroom.” But Baker Bloch knew he wasn’t suppose to talk about that room. Keep with the bath.
“There’s tiles out in the shower — I pulled back the curtain — couldn’t help it; saw the outline of something through the curtain. You need to fix that Baker B. And the fence. Neighbors are talking. People beyond the veil are talking, like [delete name]. How are you going to find Ancient Clyde in all its black and white glory with its horsed and horseless carriages if you can’t even manage the present (situation), hmm?”
He, I mean, she had a point (*scroll*). She gets up then down and points to the one with the stinger beside masked Gene Fade. “This is me.”
In a whale of a position, a tree grows out of Newt’s head.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0702, Herman Park, Nautilus, Paper, Paper Soap, Wealthy Mountain
After visiting Blue-Yellow and attempting to watch his sun rise, I hop on a passing trolley and head downtown…
… soon reaching THE Cave. Or at least A Cave.
It strikes me that it would be wrong to keep calling this character Axis-Windmill in a town created by an actual German. So we’re going to go with a new one. Not reverting to Windmill Man — too easy. Bronze John looks on, trying to gauge, trying to help. He was so successful with the Beatles with an A naming.
The Beatles are such archetypes, penetrating many synchronicity systems.
All bands can be related to them. For example, Pink Floyd are the psychedelic Beatles, Firesign Theatre are the comic Beatles, and The Residents are the bizarro Beatles. Frank Zappa with his Mothers strongly reacted to them; the Rolling Stones…
I was told by fortuneteller Esmerelda a while back that the answers lie in a cave. In the related collage, cacophony musician Charles Ives pokes his head out of one sideways, wondering if he’ll have anything left to say. He’s sorry about Cowell, he speaks through the entrance, the mouth. He’s sorry about Connecticut and Danbury and the clashing of bands. Connecticut forgives, but he’ll have to make them laugh, make them suckers instead of seekers, and get small in the exchange. Thimble Islands’ General Tom Thumb might know, if he’s paying attention. Misery becomes Mystery (up to date).
I wonder about New York’s Central Park in the Dark, and the Unanswered Question. I think back to the Amazon jungle and the Indian who becomes a Spaceman, search fulfilled; “aliens” found — this would represent the end of the 4th. Concord (Sonata)… maybe that’s next. Oh, and Karl finding the waterfall (Rainbow) and reading the scrapbook and discovering a new ending, leading him to set aside the old life and the attached house and move on. I thought about Charles Ives today in perusing my table of tiles, wondering if I’ll get the chance to tell anyone about it besides the wife and a best friend. It’s pretty remarkable.
Here is where I’ll be reborn, or at least acquire a new name.
“Who are you?”
“Helmet Newton?” he or she answers as a question.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0110, Connecticut, Jeogeot, New York, Newtown, Sunklands^
In his old cave, he worships the wife before entering the coffee shop proper. Here lies truth, even though the shop itself is now broken. Broken truth, then.
“You’ve mutated so much it’s hard for me to recognize you these days. If it wasn’t for those eyes…”
“That’s what I’m here to talk about,” interjected Ruby, now our familiar green grey alien. “The *I*.”
Seven, Axis knew. The six and the seven. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have killed that old man with the kane.”
“Michael,” she said. “Plank of wood… I’m getting.” She became embarrassed about her wealth of knowledge and decided to reel it back a bit. Starting: now.
“Well, that’s what led me to *here*, yeah.” Axis took her in more. What a long way she’s come from his little Ruby, a naive girl of 15 1/2 not ready for the world at large. And here she is, beyond the world entirely. Extraterrestrial. Should’ve known, he thought. She always had the — best of hearts. Didn’t belong on Earth. “Well… you’re in charge,” he found himself saying. “You’re the boss. Where to now?”
“You’ve found the cave, good,” she said calmly. “Now you must find the art. Collage or painting? Choose.”
He looked into the multicolored flower with this. He knew he was being hypnotized but decided not to fight. Why keep going? Ruby was beyond what he was — a pure heart, a pure soul. He was ready to give it all up, the world conquest, everything.
She didn’t ask him to show her the other one, the person he stares at in the mirror. Probably already knows, he realizes. And doesn’t care. So… perfect. He must worship her as well.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0614, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island^
“Wrong Way Winnie (Sheltering the Tou)”:
“Looking at a Cave that is not a Cave (Satin’s Rule!)”:
“The Situation Escalates (Bored Removal)”:
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0612, animation, collages 2d
The Paper Kings dropped a Big Baby behind enemy lines and Claude Sit-on got sat-on. His son Claude Jr. carried on the family name, obviously. In retaliation he tried to wire the school so that it would blow up at 4:20 o’clock on [pick any day], but the kids foresaw this and blew up Claude Jr. instead. With their minds of course, no primitive physics needed. End of mechanoid aspect of our story, but later the Claudes, jr. and sr. now conjoined and united as one Claude in the minds of people who couldn’t remember the originals, became martyrs to the cause. It was here that Dr. Mouse entered our story again. “He died for *our* sins,” the fanatic was telling him back in their secret basement lair underneath the mayor’s house, now run by Jim Turbine the plastic surgeon. He surged, he won. Former mayor Longnose went back to Yayaland where he came from and started wearing a different face (at times) and leading the resistance to his own cause, which eventually recruited Guy Benjamin from Kowloon who eventually was able to steal the little yellow fellow, the Rael McCoy, from the other 3 while they had their backs turned. And this is where Dr. Mouse enters our story once more (!), for he was asked to perform a special operation to straighten out the racist lad. *Not* remove the color this time, which should remain glinty gold or close, they insist, just like Claude down in Sittontown (Meatside renamed). “What, then?” demanded Mouse, afraid he would see a rat in such a remote place and eager to get outta here. “Turn him into an *I*,” they said, and left it with him.
Dr. Mouse went back to his basement lair, told the others what had happened. A plane crashed outside in front of the cave that sheltered Sheldon the Initiated, Fern Stalin in disguise once again — I believe this was 42 by this point. On the other side of Paper, Swamp Lake had been drained by the resistance *here* in an attempt to stifle the efforts of the kids. The Asylum was filled with those who weren’t really loonies but were deemed so nevertheless. And Dr. Mouse was the stamp-maker. He wore many hats, but there was only 1 he wanted to live under. Hatti’s.
“What do you think? First attempt, mind you.”
Greg Ogden was stymied. “Is that a… banana?”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0515, Kowloon^^, Paper Soap, Soap, Yaya Land
Always look for the spaces between things. There lies art.
I am not a painter in this life. I am a collagist. Moving on…
“What does the future hold for me Esmerelda?”
“A cave? A *landscape*?”
Very faint from across the table again: “Enter the cave.”
He paid Ms. Wells handsomely and was on his way again.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0028, 0501, collages 2d, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Paper Soap, Soap, Wild West, Yaya Land
Sunklands 