“Busted!” police agents Crack and Whack shouted after they broke down the door, leaving Greg Ogden in pieces. No longer would he be known as the artist of the “Monolith…”, history conveniently rewritten. All he had left afterwards was cartoons, sunrise to sunset, Sam and the rest. One day he picked up a watermelon and threw it out the window into the woods and then went there, finding a triangle. He approached cautiously…
“Is the camera on?”
He looked over at the illuminating glow. “Yes I think so, mum.” They settled into their cue spots, got into character. Annnnnd ACTION.
“The *thing* is,” Crystal’s replacement Methany began, emphasizing a different word this take just to spice, er, things up, “I was looking in the wrong triangle before. *This* is the triangle. Where Baker Bloch was born — this island.”
“Rodeo, yes mum,” said Carl, his first line in this scene. No relationship to Karl that I know of, although both seem to be bartenders. His character knew this was Baker Bloch instead of Wheeler Wilson before him, and that dark had switch to light, camera rolling. Thus the white hair, the white script, everything. She *was* the triangle.
Back in Whippersnapper, Baker waited outside for a new Christmas shipment of antique art (and pottery) to the Blue Baron’s.
“Monolith…?” he questioned when it finally arrived from ports unknown. “Let me check,” offered Chuck Wakdins the delivery man, and looked down his inventory list. “Which one,” he finally said, “Ansel Adams or, let me see, Greg Ogden? New guy apparently.”
“We’re here today, dear friends, to choose,” Preacher Zoidboro urged, soon to be Non-Preacher Zoidboro to about half of ’em, friends turned to fiends (or foes). “We have, evidence #1, the ‘Text on the Mount’ shoved under my parsonage door by a mysterious black hand, the color of dark licorice. Evidence #2: the Mount itself, better known as the Monolith. It is the One to complete the Four, in my…”
“Blasphemy!” shouted Bill Bright from the back. Count him in the foe camp.
“Let him speak his say,” urged Martha Bennington in front of him, fresh from a shower and thus more relaxed. She didn’t even have time to dry her hair before the special Tuesday’s Wednesday’s meeting, but that was because she was up most of the night reading this blog. No, make that writing in her blog. Something about drumming… a man possessed by a circle within a circle design. Let’s make that a dream, which kept her awake thinking about it afterwards. She also woke up her husband John, sitting beside her, but never going back to sleep. He couldn’t choose between the 3 and the 4, he determined. Glancing at the Monolith while walking into the church this day in April’s May, he decided to remain neutral, let others do the choosing for him. He feared Martha fell on the side of 4, and the chiding of Bill Bright in back added to this theory of his. Plus the fact that the drumming dream was in 4/4 time instead of 3/4. She specifically said she remembered it that way, and mentioned the 2 times in particular. 4/4 instead of 3/4. “3/4 would turn it into some kind of, um, *waltz*… a joke almost,” he recalled her saying. Well, the Trinity in his book is *not* a joke, but we’ll see… let’s see what the others say. Bill Bright has voiced his opinion. Martha too by counterweight, it seems. Zoidboro is obviously on the side of 4. Old Preacher Benfield has shown up to stand, er, up for the power of 3. The battle lines have been drawn. But what of the church structure itself, built and kept up by the hard earned money of the parishioners who seem to be dividing into two now? Will we just, I don’t know, build a *wall* down the middle of it? John continued to speculate while the others had a pause to contemplate as well. Actually, it was more a pray, requested by Zoidboro and also Benfield. *Pray* on this division. Feel in your *Heart* what is true, they urged, which made about half of them think of the joke about a Spade walking into a bar with a Heart, at the top of the “Text on the Mount” just under the title. These were the ones who would choose 4. The ones that didn’t get the joke: 3. We have our camps.
Safe Zone — where had Keith B. heard that expression? Of course: *Marilyn*. He asked about it to Jim B., currently playing the role of Alvin Jr., son of Alvin Sr. who climbed that beanstalk in Wales all the way to… some say The Moon, others: Uranus. But, as stated, we happen to know it was Mars, an in-between compromise.
Alvin Jr. listened to the query, wishing that darn phone would ring for a change and interrupt this conversation, hopefully distract Keith B. to a different topic. And why did he come down here to the ranger station anyway this morning? Must be looking for more spots to hunt, Alvin mused. “Safe Zone?” he answered Keith B. “Oh, that’s just a map that came with the station. Has nothing to do with the actual park here. Just a generic map. I… haven’t even looked at it that closely.” He peers at the map he knows all too well, pretending to see it as with new eyes. “Echo, eh?” he says, pronouncing the map name below Safe Zone. “Overrun,” he continues in that vein. He thinks of the zombies here, the Germans, but also the Italians. Came in through the portal from the Great War. “Sounds like, eh, something from a game or something, dunno.” He shakes his head, convincingly he hopes. He’s surprised Keith B. hadn’t seen the map before but that was just part of the magic of the place, good and bad. You often see things when you’re suppose to, not when common sense tells you you should. Keith B. should have spotted this anomaly of a map long ago, inquired about the Safe Zone shortly after he arrived in Paper-Soap, say. But it was the same with Alvin. *Jr.*. People kept mixing him up with his dear old papa and it irritated the *hell* out of him. He’d stopped going to church because of it. But he’d heard there was new trouble brewing over there. He decides to ask Keith — a presented tangent after all.
“Heard Preacher Zoidboro knocked the congregation for a loop yesterday,” he frames it. He knew the power of the 4 would come in eventually and attempt to topple the totalitarianism of the 3. And he knew the Monolith would have something to do with it — just didn’t know the details. Until now.
“Ah, yes,” Keith B. said back, prying his eyes from the map to Alvin Jr.’s relief. He’s going to subtly alter that thing as soon as the man from Nautilus leaves. Take out mention of the Safe Zone first. There *is* no Safe Zone. Thanks to Keith, pheh.
Turns out the congregation of the Trinity Church is split down the middle on the subject of 3 vs. 4. It’s the beanstalk all over again, thinks Alvin.
He was getting sucked down into the 3 sim region. Typical; can’t help himself.
Something about ghosts and busting them. Busts! He recalls now. He’s about to get busted for the drug ring he supposedly runs. But it’s really just wrestling on the side, until the money starts rolling in with the art and all. Sepisexton awaits atop the Monolith of Paper-Soap with more pills for thrills. Let’s go there now.
She stares at the crying lady again, another lone, dark figure in the distance. She begins.
He visited an art gallery to see how much he could sell his works for in Our Second Lyfe. He was encouraged(!).
Hmm…
… sensing another pattern.
The owner requested, “no photos,” on a sign at the entrance but I figured that was of individual pieces. A mere boy tries to “fish” paintings illegally through the upstairs ceiling, probably being short on cash or perhaps for black market purposes. Greg Ogden makes a note that things like this can happen but doesn’t report the young fellow. He’s potentially doing something illegal as well snapping these photos. Let hot water stand.
He looked and looked but couldn’t find the art work that a fiend of a friend indicated was here: a copy of Ansel Adams’ famous black and white photograph from the 20’s called “Monolith…”. He knew that people — some people — stupid ones — would think that he was piggybacking on the fame of an established artist, despite the fact that Adams worked in a different discipline. Plus this was another Whippe sim, like the one he’d just left in Section 04 back there with its Black Lake, etc. How’d *that* occur? Must be yet another indicator that he was on the right track to come here, check out prices, capture (on film) the red dressed lady and the fox, see the boy fishing for valuable paintings through the ceiling, and lastly, lastly, Adams. Where was he? The photograph could hold the answers to everything.
“I’m as high as you (*wheeze*) now. Let’s trade.” He hands him the chips, he passes him the bong. The cycle begins again.
Having finished chopping the wood for tonight, Greg Ogden plays on his roundabout, also going in circles but in a different way. He’s getting in the mood to paint.
In a darker perspective, rogue clown Sepisexton sits down by the small beach of the same rental unit and ponders a cry, thinking back to when she was just Sepi and Sexton all separated out. She wonders if she should split, depressing party over except for the really serious heads like Even and Steven smushed together over there on the bench behind that painted Martin rock. She decides it should be between sections 6 and 7 of this here photo-novel, 30 in a series of, dare I say it, 31? Because there will be a 7 born from 6 the way things are progressing, fer sure. Just like the last one (but unlike 28, 27, 26 before it).
Let’s see, what else here? There’s Ted, another head, on the swings that won’t swing. He doesn’t care at this point, tripping the light fantastic.
And then of course the Monolith itself towering above it all, which Greg will paint a bit later for the umpteenth time. Call it his new Treasure Hill. He plans to make bookoos of money from the art soon. Very soon, he contemplates. As soon as Agents 23 and 47 phone him back with some figures. But in truth they were just investigating his drug ring, being police and not business agents. They’d have enough evidence for a bust soon. Let’s call them Crack and Whack.
Oh, I forgot about Marilyn back at one of the teepees beside Keith B.’s cabin on the other side of the Monolith from Greg’s rental unit, just across the long and dusty road. ‘Nother one, pheh: currently plucking feathers from a hen for a new batch of arrows while Sylvester the Stallion looks on…
… make that chipping an arrowhead with a chisel and ballhammer. Um…
She turns her back on peeing Keith B. while carving an arrow shaft with a chore knife, the final tableau, wondering why he doesn’t do his business in the woods like all the other animals. The place still stinks but she doesn’t mind — she’s not the neighbor who complained (Suzzy Q, the teepee dweller across the way who up and moved day before yesterday’s tomorrow). Probably infected with the virus as well, wouldn’t you think, perhaps catching it from him. Because they were an item, maybe still are. She reminds him so much of his sister, which is probably not a good thing. She feels safe around him — her Safe Zone here — because she knows he would kill to protect her. He blacks out and another stuffed animal is set up in the woods just over there next to a cave, or perhaps just over here beside a camping tent. Like Mother.
Done (both of them). “Head’s up!” she calls. An arrow whizzes by, just missing his now forward facing abdomen and landing at his feet.
As I’ve spoken about before, the problem with the name Red Head is that it lies on (and near the source or head of) *Green* Stream, while it is Greenhead instead positioned on the smaller tributary of Green Stream named Red, probably Red Brook or Red Spring. Obviously there’s a bit of a switcheroo happening here. I think of color-blind people who can’t differentiate the colors green and red.
According to Whitehead X-ing mythology, Red Head was named for Leaf Erik’son’s father’s red hair. In the real world, the source of of these 2 Whitehead X-ing figures are famed Norse explorers Leif Ericson and his own carrot topped father Erik The Red.
Thorvald Asvaldsson [Erik the Red] was banished from Norway for manslaughter and went into exile in Iceland accompanied by young Erik [Leif]. When Erik was himself banished from Iceland, he traveled further west to an area he named Greenland, where he established the first permanent settlement in 986….
Erikson and his crew travelled from Greenland to Norway in 999. Blown off course to the Hebrides and staying for much of the summer, he arrived in Norway and became a hirdman of King Olaf Tryggvason. He also converted to Christianity and was given the mission of introducing the religion to Greenland.[13][17] The Saga of Erik the Red and the Saga of the Greenlanders, both thought to have been written around 1200,[18] contain different accounts of the voyages to Vinland.[19][20] The two only known strictly historical mentions of Vinland are found in the work of Adam of Bremen c. 1075 and in the Book of Icelanders compiled c. 1122 by Ari the Wise.[21] According to the Saga of Erik the Red, Leif apparently saw Vinland for the first time after being blown off course on his way to introduce Christianity to Greenland.
First person — perhaps a Mossman — to visit The Crossing was Leaf [Erik’son]. His father was Red who became the Redhead Father of All. Father God that is. Leaf came from the east — Greene Knob, which we may now call Greenland Knob (still working on that name). All the land to the east, after that, became known as Redhead, however, after The Father. Whitehead was named for the white headed God the “Christians” of the region worshipped, and perhaps Leaf himself per the history of his real life double Lief Erickson. Then the Bees inexplicably had a Greenhead, perhaps just a joke to balance out Whitehead and Redhead. Perhaps something to do with Washington Co., Fla. and its Red Head, Greenhead, Whitehead Crossing, Poplar Head, and Orange Hill and Norum.
WH X-ing also has a Vinland region bounded on the “west” by No Title Spring, the “south” by Weed, the “east” by Five Points/Mall area, and the “north” by [Markland perhaps?].
It is fairly clear, I think, that Greenland represents the mountain known as Greene Knob south of Allen Knob. Both of these lie on the western edge of Frank Park, and are of similar elevation. Green Stream runs between the two.
Leaf Erik’son established himself at least temporarily at Vinland in what was later to become WH X-ing. This would be the ancient past. A time blind person could not differentiate past from present and future, however. At any rate a monolith remains, telling us of his presence (presents?) there.
The sadness of sophistication has come to the boy. With a little gasp he sees himself as merely a leaf blown by the wind through the streets of his village.
When the moment of sophistication came to George Willard his mind turned to Helen White, the Winesburg banker’s daughter. Always he had been conscious of the girl growing into womanhood as he grew into manhood.
“In order to understand Jeogeot one must understand Middletown or Meddletown, a large urban area from past/present/future in the north central part of the continent. In past times it was defined by a triangle of “Park” galleries. Its strong resonance was picked up by Parktown next to the Hanja Infohub, although I don’t think it extended down that far south.
…. But… to Kidd Tower! What do we have here? A thick slice of Jeogeot and Middletown history. Middletown is the largest city of Jeogeot past, present, future. It was huge, simply huge. You cannot imagine. You helped in the building. You built a sector *there*.
bb:
The Kidd Tower originally existed in Middletown. When did Middletown become Meddletown, or did it ever?
Hucka D.:
Obvious. When Dr. Blood entered the picture. Dr. Blood organized the Kidd Tower so that MaN was eliminated. The Kidd was just a kid.
bb:
Kidd Tower’s always been attached to Tower of A. Mann and Big Boy in past, present, future.
Hucka D.:
Good, yes.
bb:
A key concept there don’t you think Hucka D.?
Hucka D.:
What?
bb:
That the Kidd Tower was always part of the MaN complex, with the elimination of the letters “M” and “N” to make man regress back to Big Boy and finally Kidd.
Hucka D. (talking to someone offstage):
Who does he think he’s talking to?
bb:
Hucka?
Voice Offstage (muffled):
He wants to know about Meddletown. Why were there 2 Meddletowns.
Hucka D. (still talking to this person):
This is the monolith!
Voice Offstage:
*We* thought it was. Turned out we had to dissect it further in The Tower.
bb:
Which tower?
Hucka D. (still to person):
I have to get to baker b. now. He’s asking me questions still. But hang on there…
Hucka D. (to me; coming closer):
Hi baker b.
bb:
Hi. There you are.
Hucka D.:
I’m always there.
Hucka D.:
Where are the pictures coming from, baker?
bb:
I was going to ask you the same question (!)
Hucka D.:
Then: Meddletown I suppose.
Voice Offstage (correcting?):
Middletown.
bb (to Hucka):
Was Meddletown Middletown… are they the same?
Hucka D.:
Yes.
bb:
What is the significance of eliminating the 2 *middle* letters M and N to devolve MaN to Kidd?
Hucka D.:
Rent in Middletown. You can return to the blockquote now if you wish. So confusing you are.
bb:
Thanks.
bb:
Is VWX Town a slice of Middletown?
Hucka D.:
Yes!
bb:
The philosophy of Middletown — give this a stab tonight — Middletown itself started in the M and N. 3 sims of basically the same name — all starting with “Yeo”. Three clustered around the M and N level, the 13th and 14th of the vertical column of Jeogeot recognized by Middletown priests, scientists, artists.
Hucka D.:
Yes. (pause) Middletown.
bb:
Big E or Biggie was found on the shores of the Korean Channel — called the Korean Channel at first — and taken directly west to Middletown — this M and N centrality. From it was distilled the Kidd Tower. Was the X-Spot Gallery around then?
Hucka D.:
Yes! (pause) Or no.
—–
bb:
I just had Baker Bloch walk up the whole Kidd Tower, and he thinks, through me, that the intersection with the Simple Wunderlich pictures may be the most meaningful part. Here’s his blog:
There’s still Korea and Scrabble and Twenty-Six. What does that mean?
bb:
26 is the letters of the alphabet. SID’s 1st Oz [tiles are referred to here as well] I suppose.
Hucka D.:
Jeogeot priests/scientists/artists arranged the north-south column so that the beginning touches the north[ of Jeogeot] and the end or omega touches the south [coast]. In the middle was designed Middletown. M and N. I told you we should have started a SID’s 1st Oz interview[ between baker b. and Hucka D.] a while back. If you can convince Mike…
bb:
Hare Who Lost His Spectacles.
Hucka D.:
Yes, that too.
bb:
But we have a spare pair.
—–
bb:
Then the omega point of the column became itself alpha and extended *west* another 26 sims to create another Jeogeot end or limit.
Sunklands 