Tag Archives: Leila/Eyela/Rose Wells^^+$

August 21, 2022 · 8:07 am

morning

“Man I can’t even look in your eyes today, you’re so small man. What’ll it be today Mickey Rooney? Duck?”

“Yes please.”

“You better return that cap to the St. Louie Cardinals, bro. Bro man. They’re need’n it for their shortstop, you know what I’m saying, yo?”

“Good… one.”

Gibson reaches into his pocket, pulls a bill out. The special kind belonging to Duck.

“Alright here you go Peewee,” he says while exchanging his own with Barry’s, knowing he always gets a head in a deal.

He moves on. He has no real fear of the larger man-boy similarly wearing a red cap, in his case dipped in the blood of a particularly hated and wounded-if-not-killed rival. He’s been here every day since Munday, that special new day of the week where you simultaneously go to work and go to church at once. Work-church. (S)pray. Barry was a kind of professional graffiti artist, the ones who have an unpronounceable name. Like Spock. He’d head to a particular wall-surface as soon as he made the purchase. 300, he thinks this morning. 300 Triangle. A number anyway. Maybe 112. He’s going to meet up with [delete name] afterwards, a mathematician, to decide. Slice.

—–

“What’ll it be today, Mrs. Gold? Duck?”

“Chicken, I think.” STOP

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August 20, 2022 · 10:20 am

Gold City

She was at the house now, or the edge of the hill it stood proud and dominant upon.

She summoned Newt again to take a gander at what she’d found. This was obviously the source of their names. They *were* still married…

… to this town.

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August 20, 2022 · 8:25 am

00340316

“You’ve found the shower again, congratulations. It’s in the Oracle you know. Chicago.”

“I think you mean Illinois,” I replied. “As in: someone was bad and deserved to be spanked punished.”

“In the circle of the shower with the water on, all is good,” he replied confidently. The person sitting opposite of me. Triangle, I gather. Something about the stabbing of the duck obviously. I am now a resident. How did *that* happen?

“You are not dead,” I decided to say. “You were supposedly killed–”

“Look to the House on the Hill. All revolves around the House on the Hill. Just like before.” The apparition, so solid just a second ago, fades…

—–

She finally got out of the shower and put on some clothes, bound and determined to find the graffiti that would set her free.


“Scuse me, boys.”

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August 19, 2022 · 7:55 am

mightier?

She’d left the water in the shower running but it was on purpose: to prove a point. Or, better, to remind her of something. A key, 2nd shower really not needed since no poop is involved.

She was finished with her clients but there was more work to be done tonight before going home bed. Check on the Duck. Because she was about ready to kill someone…

… with writing. “Dear,” she called over to her ex but both still using Gold for a surname. “How do you spell asimilation? With that extra s I’m always mising? Dear oh dear. There I go again!”

“Answered yourself of course,” he responded, not staring up from the folded newspaper. 20 dead in Uptown this year so far. What is Gold City coming to??

“Yes,” she realized. “All I have to do is look down.”

“Or straight ahead…” *sip*

“… if a computer is involved, yes.” Which it wasn’t in this Gold City experience of hers. She preferred pen over keys here. Must be something about running away as fast as possible from the Ebony and the Ivory. Dove’s where it’s at now. She just used it in fact. In the shower. Which she needs to take another of. *No*. She has the key, she reminds herself again, still writing, still scribbling sideways across the yellowing paper, perhaps parchment. *Barry* is the one. He needs the shower. But where is Barry?

Still scribbling, still writing.

Newt sets the paper down. He’s had enough bad. Now for good. “I’m glad I found you again Eyela. Just mised you in the church, ha.”

She looked down, emitted a small laugh as well. Good one, Newt. Then she took the pen and struck out that sentence. Then another, and another until the whole paper was full of lines. Newt was gone. Newt, her ex, perhaps even still her husband since she’s reverted back to Eyela and/or they still share the same last name, was never here. Or else he left earlier. She writes alone.

Later she sits in bed staring at the sword, wondering how to turn it back into a pen. Looks like actual killing is in order if she doesn’t succeed with this.

Because the Duck is right beside her.

“Paul?”

“Yes?” he quacked.

“I think… it’s… time…” STAB

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August 18, 2022 · 9:30 am

(s)pray

Marsha “Pink” Krakow was praying in a Mid-town church. Newt just missed her. “God bless Mama, rest her soul. And Dada. And most of all my little boy all grown up and playing with fire now. Help him not manifest the Duck any longer.”

Fat chance, he thinks simultaneously while spraying in Southside.

She releases the doves from the steeple, hoping one would poop the truth on him, just like with her.

Here he or she comes!

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August 17, 2022 · 9:13 pm

meaningful names

Newt walks down 64th exactly aligned with longitude 64 in the sim. He’s just done the same in Big Woods sans a road to follow, trying to also figure out the lay of the land there. *There* has shifted to here. Witness the Duck in the background (!).

Wall of purest Green ahead. And that confounded gold tipped pyramid. How did Eyela know it would be here??

Now to find her, Newt thinks. Could have shifted shapes already, exchanging old for new. Very likely, given her history.

There’s also some clear indication that an association exists between this new town, this Gold City as I call it derivatively, and NWES City on the west side of the continent — opposite coast.

Remember NWES City and *its* Applewood? Primary setting for photo-novel 22, perhaps the best of the lot, or at least most profoundly, um, balanced front to back (unless it’s 25, 19, 16, 13, 10, 7, 4 or 1 in the series). We also saw Marsha “Pink” Krakow in that one, along with her boy Barry. Applewood (sim) is most prominently featured, though, in section 1 of photo-novel 16, which matches a NWES City narrative to one created in Nautilus’ Collagesity (when it existed), or, more precisely, a NWES City narrative unfolded in sections 1, 3, 5 *balanced* (that word again) by a Collagesity narrative existing in sections 2, 4, and 6 to complete. In photo-novel 22, as it happens, Collagesity has, in essence, *merged* with NWES City (briefly) to form a synthesis of inner/personal and outer/general, the goal of my journeys since the failure of same back in photo-novel 4 when I tried it with (what I call again) VHC City.

Is Newt thinking some of these same thoughts about past photo-novels as he continues to explore Gold City, advertised by the owner as the *second* largest city of the Jeogeot continent? Probably. Can you guess the largest? I think you can.

One more note here. The rent is significantly higher in Gold City than NWES City, which I would assume makes it more difficult to flesh out a story like I did with the latter. Right now I’m working along the lines that the name Applewood here is planted on purpose in its honor. Add in my efforts past and present, and we may have some kind of overall Jeogeot mythology forming from the aether.

At the midway point up in the sim, Newt turns left from 64th onto Southbridge, hoping to get more answers tonight.

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August 15, 2022 · 4:59 pm

3D triangles

She suddenly stopped the 1947 BLACK BEAN ROD 9 in the middle of the road and looked over. Pyramid. Just like pictured on The Bill. Gold tip at the top. Then…

…. Barry walked out of the Chinese restaurant on the other side with their take out orders, still looking for his. Dunce he remains; making a lot of D’s. Well: only 3 this year, an improvement. He obviously chose this location for Eyela to pick him up for symbolic reasons. Seeing the boy, Eyela forgets the before times, becomes absorbed in the Gold experience. She has the key still, hidden deep deep deep in her pockets. 319. Alls she knows now is that the room is somewhere around, and that Barry is with her.

He’s still walking in place, waiting for her to change into his Mom. Should be any second.

Aah. What the heck (door slam). We’ll just go with Eyela as his Mommy. But we may still change the name to Pink. I’ll dig up some more appropriate hair soon.

“Mmm. Smells good!” she says pleasantly, and then motors down the highway to parts yet unknown.

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August 12, 2022 · 2:31 am

00340303

The next day Newt goes out to the Rolls Royce Dawn roadster to retrieve the “Monolith”, painting or photograph — we don’t know until he opens the trunk. But then (*gasp*), he finds it empty, no art within. He tries to calm down. Maybe it was in the trunk of the other car, the 1947 Black Bean Rod 9 that Eyela just purchased before their long vacation, had to have to give them something to be cheerful about upon their return, she said. Maybe something was wrong with the lock on this trunk — shouldn’t be, since it’s such an expensive car and manufactured so carefully, at least according to reputation — and Benny put the art in the other trunk for safekeeping. So he tries that one as well (*double gasp*). It was there… but in a different form. And broken in pieces. He takes the pieces out of the trunk, carefully, er, pieces them together in the garage — making sure to shut the doors beforehand. This was Benny’s lone day off, but Benny sometimes shows up to work anyway to put in some extra time — off the clock of course. He’s just that dedicated. Good ol’ Benny, Newt thinks amidst the chaos. But *this*. He stands back, taking in the thing that he’s created. It could tumble at any moment. But this is what he saw.

I believe it is the same as the monolith in the Big Woods Zapppa woke up to yesterday. The woods that are right over there, just beyond the brick wall surrounding the manor, protecting it. The stuff of dreams.

It’s time to find out what this is all about, really.

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August 12, 2022 · 2:30 am

experience

“Why do you keep your bathing suit on (in the tub)? You understand we’re married — no need to be formal.” But Wheeler, I mean, Eyela knew it was necessary. Eyela Gold, her newest incarnation. She also understood she had to ditch the purple hair in order for it to work long-term. Newt would lose interest if not. He preferred the new now: Newt likes new.

“It was a successful party, dearest,” she decided to say, dodging a bullet. “Trouble is (she suds her suddenly aching head while also rubbing/massaging it) — I… don’t remember much about it strangely enough. Like it was all, I don’t know, a *dream*.” She produces something from her hair; instantly knows it is the key. She hides this fact from Newt. She quietly places the golden object on the floor behind the tub, waiting to be picked up later when Newt had gone to bed or else to his study, if he can find it. 319, Eyela Gold reads on the thing. She must cover this fact up.

(to be continued)

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August 9, 2022 · 7:28 am

Newt

He thought she was going to wear her new hair, but purple’s cool, purple’s cool. He wasn’t going to bring the subject up. She had her reasons. Instead he decides to talk about the girls.

“Venus is working hard on her novella.” He could hear her typing all the way over here.

“Novel,” corrected Eyela in a sweet but stern voice. “And Mistress is helping with it too.”

“Sure, sure.” He looks over at the townhouse on the northern edge of the property, (the girls’) home away from home. “I’d like to read it.”

“Well they don’t want you to.”

“*You* can.”

“*I’m* different.” That seemed to be a dead end subject too. Maybe switch back to the hair. He pointed.

“I thought –”

“Don’t start with the hair,” she requested, knowing what he was doing. “I — didn’t like the way it, ahem, set my eyes.”

He didn’t ask for explanation of this cryptic reply. Was there another subject he could broach while they sat in their hot tub, waiting for the guests to arrive? Tonight was the big night! He decided to talk about that.

“Tonight’s the big–”

“Don’t,” she cut him off. “Just don’t.”

—–

He was reminded when he walked back into the house after their long vacation that they had too many servants, perhaps way too many. But, to their credit, they were all still hard at work, manning their various posts. Gregg the Greeter in the foyer, now waiting for the first guests to arrive.

Sam the Scrubber up on the second level, still trying to get the last of those blood stains out of the wooden floor. Almost got it.

David the Duster as well. If only those damn dogs all about the house would stop shedding, he constantly thinks.

And Cookie the Cook, waiting for the tea to boil. Guests start showing up in about 30 minutes. Tea had to be hot but not too hot. Water might have to be reboiled but he’s ready if so. Bags just in that cabinet over there. He measures the steps to reach it. 7 he’s counting. And 5 bags for each pot. And 8 guests due to arrive. Two pots, then. Better put on a second kettle.

And, closest to them presently, Willie the, um, Watcher. Waiting for his wife to get out of the tub so he can slip a robe on her. He probably needs to go first. But that was also her special request, the last one hired. Don’t think he can then be the first to go. Can he?

(to be continued)

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