Tag Archives: Newt/Windmill Man^*++++&

September 13, 2022 · 4:44 am

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“The only Butt that’s going to show up in this photo is mine,” spoke up Silentghost, tired of the bog down, but also noting the deleted or unsuccessful profile pic involved yet another purple outfit. Fitting: too fitting. Supposed notorious outlaw on the run Wilson had nothing to say, since she was actually Wheeler. What kind of luck did she have assuming the name of a fugitive from the law?? What did it speak of her character to attract this person into her life?

“I — don’t remember taking that picture, I swear,” she said, plotting her defense. She didn’t. Not her pic!

“Com’on,” insisted Silentghost. “Ρùℜ℘Îē?”

There is another me out there, thought Wilson Wheeler both wrongly and rightly.

Observing Shelley had seen it too but she wasn’t shocked or damaged in any way. Instead: curious. Futuristic (outfit), she pondered. *From* the future. And so it was. She told this to Wilson who was actually Wheeler. Time is being confused, she added in her psychic manner.

She traced the picture back to last Halloween. The lone blog post published from that day, toward the last of photo-novel 29 which I am just re-reading now, was certainly quite purple in nature and mentioned a purple swamp shack in particular, along with Prince’s “Purple Rain” album.

https://bakerbloch.com/2021/10/31/00290608/

“I’m going back to that swamp,” she said to Newt on the phone later. Paper-Soap: he was there too. He studied the post while she spoke. Box… Borneo. They were not even really dating at the time. Perhaps they still weren’t, although they’d been married since.

Shelley contemplated the post afterwards too. *She* was there, at the resurrection beach with Cat-Witch who is… *Wheeler*. Just the day before.

Whatever happened to Liz?

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September 11, 2022 · 8:11 am

progression

Let’s see, I have to fit the Duck back in here somewhere.

—–

“Yes, put on a robe, stay a while,” said Pauline Silentghost by her side, still assuming the pose of a master (channeler). “How’s your knee doing?”

“Fine,” Wheeler said, taking all the shifts in stride per usual. She doesn’t remember changing into the purple-ish robe but here we are. In… Sansara? Yes, but a special part, she realized. An artsy fartsy sub-continent to the immediate east and south. It’s a place she doesn’t think she’s ever been before until now. Thanks to Scroop, or Scrougeout as they call the Nautilus sim in these here parts. So says Pauline. The Oracle rules all in this out of the way, edge of the world type of location. Perhaps it’s just the distance from everything else that makes it so.

“You know who has to show up next.” Stares.

“Do I?” Wheeler tired of meeting the gaze and looked down at her robe, examining the texture. The finest cloth, she saw (and felt), perhaps cashmere. When she looked up: this.

“So who’s this fresh piece of hell?” she queried, but then knew the answer, which instantly became another question. “Daughter?”

It was Shelley Struthers with a, er, Scrougeout t-shirt, another duck.

“She is the owner of the castle,” replied Pauline, wiser than ever. Rust Never Sleeps becoming Roost Never Sleeps again. She turns. “Aren’t you dearest?”

“My name is Shelley,” she spoke plainly.

“Yes, we know your name,” replied robed Wheeler sitting across from her. She stared into umbrella eyes.

“My husband is George. We own the castle. Together.”

Shelley was much too young to be married. This was a future vision obviously, Wheeler realized. “Timeline, please,” she requested as politely as possible. “You’re a *child*.”

“I am *your* child.” Stares again all around. Awkwardness. Wheeler suspected she had a daughter for several years now, perhaps many years. The spaceship.

—–

“I’m telling you, Newt. She’s *real*.” He’d suspected as well. Black and white, male and female, on and off. Clone? Possibility.

(to be continued)

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September 10, 2022 · 9:28 am

new art

I love libraries, although I’m not sure I like the bureaucracy of one. Heck, the bureaucracy of anything, red tape built into the meaning. But reading, jeez. I can’t imagine a world without books or at least blogs, ha.

It’s getting harder for Wheeler to change out of what she is. It’s good she’s a faux fashion designer and/or model now, based on Long Islands. Which led her here thanks to Spider.

Gatsby again here on the “Lay Reading Bench Purple” in the tower set up by a fellow artist who has a smaller property in Scroop.

Fantastic.

But *this* (bottom of tower).

Compare.

My guess is that Spider wants us to find his former master, perhaps his present master. A witch has a cat. A wizard usually goes with a dog, sometimes with weird names to help disguise its true form.

“Carrcassonnee,” Wheeler calls over cautiously.

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September 9, 2022 · 8:55 am

Scroop’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Scrougeout

Spider guides. Wheeler’s new fashion design business highlighted by “accident” (foreground) on my big Nautilus map in the sky. Nearby Strutter sim’s steampunk village Rugburns with the cat-witch and her own tuxedo cat (“Pheh! Tuxedo?” she uttered disgustingly when learning she couldn’t get a solid black one) is gone now, disappeared back into the pixels it came from.

Strutter’s closest one-to-one name match in the Oracle is Struthers, reminding us of Shelley and her Lebettu Castle where I just came from, me being Newt, formerly Axis-Windmill and with last name yet to be determined. Perhaps it is Newton. Heck perhaps it is Struthers, and Shelley is my child, hmm. *Our* child?

Anyway, Spider is back and I’m glad of it. Less work for me to find the next meaningful association to continue the blog posts being churned out one-by-one, like Struthers to Scroop here where the two-dimensional, numbers uttering chihuahua with a name of a different animal species altogether stands upon. Sim, that is…

… and diagonally on it in addition. Let’s follow this.

—–

Ahh yes.

I miss it.

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September 5, 2022 · 6:02 am

who’s that lady in purple

She finds herself staring through a window on Long Island, needing more clothes. She decides to assimilate (again). Wilson’s, she ponders the title of the shop while studying the inventory within. We’ll just shift that over one to Wheeler, let the women have the upper hand, although both sexes will be served once more.

—–

Better. And no Alpha needed this time. These were old fashion, BOM based outfits. She crosses her legs and waits for more plot to happen. She’s ready now.

“I’m still going to shorten my legs,” she says, studying her toes too far from her face, story renewed.

“As you wish,” spoke Newt, knowing the moment would pass. It always does.

He folds the paper over, puts it in his lap. “Wheeler”, he says, staring forward.

“Yes?”

“No, I mean the shop.”

“Yes, once more.” Her shop now. And she has a special purple one for Newt later. Ah heck, how about now. The legs can wait.

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August 31, 2022 · 3:04 pm

new bird

“You need perfection. You reach perfection. You pass perfection on the other side. Of course Wheeler Wilson was going to defeat (and assimilate) the new Tina Turner.”

“Tina Louise I believe,” said the fainter voice from the side, another Observer. “Like Mary Ann except beautifuller.”

“All-American still?” the first questioned the second. “Ρùℜ℘Îē?”

“That’s the key,” said the second.

“Heart of the matter,” reworded the first.

Resurrected Arthur Kill had finished retrieving the “Spider” from Tennessee but he was around for good thanks to the mop, with its silliness reinforcing its power. So they — Wheeler and he — decided to form a band, creating an alternate reality where “America the Beautiful” replaced the “Star Spangled Banner” as our country’s great national anthem. First gig: Towerboro or thereabouts, playing to an audience half blue half red. Now to split the two right down the middle, form a third. Wheeler kept wearing purple.

Wheeler kept wearing purple.

Wheeler kept wearing purple.

It worked. St. Francis Scott, the key, was hatched at the beginning of the 5th.


dramatization

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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 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 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 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 which 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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