Tag Archives: NODAL

December 10, 2023 · 9:37 pm

00410304 (104)

Couple of battered suitcases left behind but nothing in them as she checked. Clients should be arriving pretty soon; better make herself prettified, as she liked to say. *Remember*, the taller, richer one *doesn’t* like the blue rouge, she reminded herself. And of course that code he goes by to sanctify all this. Oil me up, I suppose.

She’s staking her claim to the room. Daisy Chain can go to hell for all she cares. Pills in her staff meeting breakfast for a knock out punch, BAM! She can work hers and Daisy’s together. She’s not that old yet: only 18 going on 38. Now if she could only remember the year. ’36? ’39? She decided to split the difference and settle on herself. Still before the Axis took control.

Town school superintendent Axis walks through the 104 door, taking control. “Mouse here yet?” He’d checked in his copper red hair at the main desk with Wilma the day clerk — no need for that inside. He could be who he was here. An older, balding man destined for chancellorhood, he felt.

“Not yet,” she answered. Octavia always fancied Axis among her townspeople clientele. Certain a step above, say, a baker, a farmer, a grocery store owner in the swampland. He owns an actual, bona fide *house*. Mouse — that’s the other one’s name: Mouse — might be richer and also have a house but he’s not as devilishly handsome. And the emblazoned cross across his chest he bears helps with this judgment too. Man of God he’s said about himself. Mouse was obviously devoted instead to science; even brought a beaker and test tube along for one of their sessions, and not to decorate the tree in the room, he said. “This time,” — like he was going to bring them again during the holiday season which was in full swing now, hmm. What does he suppose he can test with all *this*. She didn’t like to think about it; didn’t want to ponder the possible weird requests that could come along with such things. Daisy’d warned her about stuff like that. Maybe she was too harsh with the drugs; maybe she couldn’t pull off this 2-n-1 thing she planned today. If it wasn’t Mouse and his eccentricity she figured there was no way it could work.

—-

“I’ll finish up here Mouse; you can go back to your house now,” still-in-control Axis said later on. Octavia needed more than the doctor could provide.

—–

“We’ve gone back and changed time, Marsha,” said Alice, seeing the results, “but now *Axis* is instead my father. Villain of villains!”

“He’s not that bad.”

“I guess you’re telling me *Hitler* wasn’t that bad.”

“He invented the VW Bug — or something,” she attempted to justify, then realized this was wrong, all wrong. And where was her yellow Bug? Still orange? Still in Amiable? She made a note to herself to check. After all this dialog here was worked out.

“We have to go back. Daisy *wasn’t* sick that day in April’s May.”

“I believe that would have to be November’s December, Alice — holiday season and all. The beakers and test tubes on the tree. Remember?”

“I don’t remember *nothing* because it didn’t *happen*. I’ll MAKE it not happen.”

“Again?” Marsha said, staring into the other girl’s eyes who was still wearing the same “I’m not a Demo” sweatshirt as herself, same holey denim jeans.

“Again,” she said back firmly across the gap, closing it for the second time.

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December 5, 2023 · 2:55 am

a new month, a new mystery spot

Brand spanking new pond (about 50 x 25 feet) found very near center of downtown Boulder NC. Too close? No. It is safe. You can go there and feel safe. No one comes here. You will be by yourself. You do not have to carry a weapon into this area. Relax. Sit by the pond. Feel at peace. Enjoy.

Nearby mini-quarry of several levels. Really a spectacular find, and for now I’ll call the whole area Neufoundland because I didn’t know of its existence even though I’ve walked past it perhaps a 100 times now, probably more. City path to the west, condos to the north and east. Houses to the south. But here is peace, here is love and honor and beauty. And rocks. Lots of rocks. And a pond (see above). And a retaining wall of some length. A small waterfall in the northeast part (yes, there are 2 identifiable areas to this one place, linked by that wall in essence). More to be found I’m certain.

There are a number of entrances into the place, but one that is logically the best choice. I call it Best Choice Entrance Point, BCEP for short. Made to order it appears.

Is this another entrance into Neufoundland from the city path to the east? No, it is not. But close!

Moving north on the path a bit more toward the town center, we come to this. Is this by chance an entrance? *Yes*. Although you may be filmed if so, or a sign just up the side path indicates such.

The whole thing is suspicious for several reason. How could I not have known about this place even though I’ve been exploring Boulder for the past 30 years? Waiting, is the answer I’m getting. Waiting for the right time to reveal itself.

Oh, a FAIRY VILLAGE on the northern boundary, although the buildings have been turned over and bunched together since my last visit a couple of months back, perhaps for protection from harsh winter gales.

But never fear, the townspeople stand tall and proud and strong on a neighboring rock, ready to pick up the pieces next spring. In the meantime: FREEZE I suppose, ha. Toy avatar humor there.

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November 28, 2023 · 4:31 pm

00410206 (Biff)

He was scrolling through Cass City photos on his computer screen while waiting for a client to show up, reminiscing about the old days. Ahh Pink, he thought while studying the 1st one that popped up. Rented the space opposite the town watering hole called Shenanigans. Reverse the colors and directions here and one could change into the other, he realized, as in an aftereffect on a sunnier day. Did Pink understand this when she chose the location?

And what about his office directly above it in the same building? Well, 3 stories above it, the intervening 2 floors still vacant. Have been for a while, so the padding might be permanent between him and his supposed true love. Yes, he determined not too soon after she arrived in town that he was smitten by the still youngish, almost child-like looking 38 year old “girl” from Nantucket with her semi-fiery blonde hair and her perpetual hot pink clothes and attitude. She told him one night at Shenanigans, the only “date” they went on if you can even call it such, that she use to not be this way. She was a 3n1 (or 3-n-1), a composite, she said, and cryptically left it at that. He’d studied the term since; hadn’t come across much information. Basically posts of this blog is all. Yeah, better make that he hadn’t come across much information period, blog still off-limits to him for his own protection. Pink, however, is a different story, par for her Nantucket golf course upbringing. There she was also known as: Wanda. Yeah, she was out there in reality but also in his dreams too, acting as a mirror to herself. He had to be constantly reminded that she could do those things, 4th dimensional tricks one could put it.

He kept scrolling through the Flickr pool of photos until the end, then tried a general search for “Cass City” within the popular image hosting service. Soon he came across this, the photo he’d hoped to find all along:

“Moby Prick,” he said laughingly. And everyone thought it was fable before he snapped the monster from Doug’s dirigible back in last April’s May. Of course some people, perhaps most, weren’t convinced, said it was a trick of the land and the light. He sends the photo to his printer, intending to have the evidence close to him this time. It seems to keep making itself scarce, much like the great whale itself, he realizes. He’ll print out 5 copies just in case.

Knocks at the door. His client. He only managed to print one copy out because of the interruption and then misplaced it before nightfall, hmm (more tricks).

(to be continued)

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November 23, 2023 · 7:55 pm

00410201

The day after Thanksgiving. Normalcy returns to the small virtual village of Amiable with plenty of leftover goodies from the festival, a huge success. Corn shucked, weighed and balanced, and then baked into bread and other products; sweet roots based music produced aplenty; sweets and refreshments served all around.

—–

“Offer you a drink, Doctor?”

“Not now Victoria.” He wanted to keep his eyes glued to the front of the club, for Dr. Grayson was waiting on someone, another doctor he assumed. The place: Cass City, queen burg of Satori’s Deep South. The time: 1939 apparently. Just before the great war that never was. Thanks to the book.

Dr. Mouse walks into the Serapis Club. “Check your coat, Doctor?”

“Not now, Victor.” He had a mission to fulfill. Bring what he assumed was another doctor up to speed. And then have him take his place. Hopefully.

(to be continued)

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November 18, 2023 · 9:11 am

00410109

“Sure is pretty here, um, June.”

June? Jane thought. But she wasn’t the first to call her that. “Jane,” she corrected mildly.

“Oh right. Sorry. Anyway, I guess the tractor didn’t make it down to this beach. I looked in the surrounding woods and even under the water. Remotely of course.”

“I’ve been standing here for quite a while and I haven’t see anything,” trying-to-be-helpful Jane said to her fellow villager, also a big fan of the band she and her sister Rachel were in. Now where is her accordion playing sibling anyway? Rehearsal is in 2 hours. She better text Reuben and Steuben to remind them as well.

So that’s 2 sisters in the band Batcorn, and also 2 brothers, but the sisters and brothers are unrelated to each other. So this is sorta like 70s pop supergroup ABBA and sorta not. But they wanted to be big still, ABBA big. They had their sights set on so much more than Amiable, despite their wild popularity in the village among young and old alike. Heck, even tone deaf Andrew “Biff” Carter attended their last gig, dragging along Wally with him, saying it would be good for the boy to get away from the farmhouse and listen to what *other* people liked. Poor, punk obsessed Wally, Jane often thought. He’ll never understand the beauty of actual, roots based songs.

She was the one who came up with the name Batcorn, a combo of the village’s obsession with corn and her favorite superhero Batman from Gotham City. Actually, she preferred villains like Joker and Penguin in the mythology but didn’t relay this to anyone except those closest to her. Rachel knew of course. And Reuben and Steuben. And one other yet to be determined. A boyfriend perhaps.

(to be continued)

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November 14, 2023 · 5:05 pm

She has to find the owner of this accordion.

“I can’t hold out much longer here. My world is breaking down Eddie, my Edward.”

“How are you sitting? My chair won’t work. Can we trade?” he asked selfishly. Like the man he was. Was he even listening to what she said?

“It’s *not* about the chairs.” She huffs a bit and looks around, down the road. Just over there. Where the camera is. “I have a new game in the meantime, Eddie. I call it Pan All Around.”

“Peter? Here?”

“*No*.” Another huff. “Pan like in zoom. Pan like in circle around something. Pan like in…”

“Peter,” he repeated, staring out.

Marsha realized he was correct after all.

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November 13, 2023 · 10:16 am

00410104

In the morning she skipped breakfast with the creepy mesh family and drove more into the heart of the village. She checked the gauge after starting the car. Gas tank full, good. She was back on the right timeline, the one she came from when she entered the portal.

Seeing some cows in a field above her after parking, she decided to visit them first. She always had an affinity with these gentle animals, actually wanted to be a cow when she was little. “Milk me,” she said very inappropriately to her younger brother when they were 8 and 10 respectively, too small to know what they were doing. Their Mother set her straight later on. “Get it through your bull headed brain: you are *not* a cow.” But then when she grew up and started to put on a few extra pounds, well, things got complicated again. “I *am* a cow,” she would often say to herself after that, until pound begat pound and she was puttering about the house in a black and white suit made from miracles. Took a long time to get over that. She thought of Christina again and her own unburdening. In a mesh way in that case, of course. Hard to compare the two.

And low and behold she found that she could milk the farthest one she automatically dubbed Bessy as per custom, like strange dogs tend to become Rover or Spot when addressed. Milk, mmm. Would be tasty after not having anything to eat this morning. Needed nutrition.

“You’ll have to give that milk to Donna,” spoke Andrew “Biff” Carter loudly over a nearby fence. “She owns the cow.” Can she not shake the creepy mesh man? She wondered about his ability to have sex again. Maybe he’s feigning all *this* — mesh could be just an act so that he could seem innocent when following her around. I bet he drinks that wine after everyone else has gone to “bed”. Bet he dreams about more than just tools in a shed. Wait… is *she* mesh instead? No no no, she waves the crazy thought off. I’m *real*. I *eat*. But yet she skipped breakfast with no ill consequences so far. And she couldn’t manage to quite go to the bathroom last night behind the house.

I’m *not* mesh, she then thought. But I’m *turning* into mesh. This place!

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November 12, 2023 · 9:31 am

00410101

She tired of yellow so she changed to orange, another kind of disguise. The woman on the road directed her to the man on the tractor in the distance — up at the farmhouse — but she could travel only so far. Ran out of gas, we’ll say. Another man was waiting who turned out to be the same as the one on the tractor, which was only trick of shadow.

“My you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said in his gravelly old voice when she approached, being use to only cows around here. “What’s your name, Hot Pink?”

“Pink actually,” Marsha “Pink” Krakow answered with a wry smile. “But you call me Marsha — I only let friends call me Marsha.” Lie lie lie, she thought. They call me *Pink*, which you never will again you old pervy man on the road. She noted his half buried legs. “Looks like the ground’s a bit soft around here.”

“This?” He looked down too. “Got caught in some quick terraforming by the owners, people named Locus. Only met ’em once or twice I believe. Now I can’t get out.”

“Would explain the smell,” Marsha said, noticing it for the first time. She wondered if she should pull him out, get him going again.

“Don’t worry,” he said, sensing her desire to help. “Owners will come around again soon enough; they’ll set me free.” With this, he looked hopefully down the road beyond Marsha’s now orange VW, beyond the woman still standing there. Christina I believe is the name, from Wyeth County, Missouri. Waiting on her dad Andrew.

—–

She found herself driving up the road again to the farm with the tractor. She didn’t run out of gas this time. There was no man on the bench waiting for her. Instead someone was actually at the tractor, apparently working on it. Christina’s father. “My you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said as she approached from behind.

“H-how do you know?” She got within 10 feet or so and halted, looked at the pleasant back of the dude.

“Switch places with me. Know a lot about tractors?” He had seen her from before, she realized. Test run.

“Not really. I was… *pretending*,” she decided to explain herself.

“Nothing pretentious about farming young lassie.” He turned. “Could you pipe down for a moment, Wally?” he requested to his punk playing son on the left now, a Ramones song I believe, perhaps “Rockaway Beach”. Hard to tell since they all sound alike and he’s just kind of mumbling the words as he quickly strums along. Probably doesn’t know the lyrics, Marsha guessed. But could it be possible? Could he know about her stint in prison?” Just then, he pretty clearly mumbled the words “Rockaway Beach.” It *was* that song; he *knew* about the prison. What *is* this place, actually?

“Christina!” the tractor man suddenly belted out in the direction of his older child. “Time for dinner!” Her wait was over.

“Joining us I assume,” he spoke to Marsha. Was she?

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November 9, 2023 · 10:48 am

00400613 (Yellow again!)

Marsha thought they could talk freely here during the night in the park between all the buildings of the compound. Little did she know the trees, the birds, the flowers, even the bugs: bugged. Dr. Mouse would analysis the recordings later from his various sources. Eddie looked up at the big fat full silver moon before starting his soliloquy, “I love you,” being the summary sentence.

“Run away?” she said about one of the other parts, the “plan” we’ll call it.

“Yeah,” he said at the time. “Look over there. Between the bushes. I brought you something.” Broad smile. About time to say the “love” part.

Yet another bug, seemingly a different kind this time. But it was miked up as well, along with having an attached tracker. And perhaps even another one of those explosive time bombs, but definitely the first two. And maybe even Eddy, her Edward, put them there, in cahoots with the good Dr. Mouse by this point. Maybe he knows about all the bugs here. Thanks to the mother once more.

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November 7, 2023 · 3:53 pm

00400610

“I try to meet our new, ahem, students at least once but I hope in our case we encounter each other again and again, Ms…”

“Krakow,” spoke Marsha to Dr. Paul Mouse, head of the organization and secretly working for Head, often known as Perch.

“Yes, Marsha Krakow, hmm. And with an additional name if I remember correctly. One only friends can say.”

“Correct, Dr. Paul… what was it?”

“Mouse,” said Paul Mouse.

“No. A middle name.” She smiled wryly.

“Oh yes — clever. I’ll give you mine and you’ll divulge yours. Well, mine is [delete name].”

“Never heard of that. Well mine is Pink, spelled like the color and not the cologne.”

“Not p-n-k, then. I remember from when my wife got me some a couple of Christmas’ ago. Still sitting on the shelf above the medicine cabinet, unused.”

“But other people swear by it. Man of your,” not age, she thought — *distinction*, “*distinction,*” she said aloud, “– might be handy is all I’m saying.”

“So you believe in its love potion powers. You are a true P-n-kie.”

“Look at me,” Marsha spoke about her appearance. “I use to sell it. I had a hot pink car before I traded it for a yellow. Got tired of seeing putrid yellow-green as an aftereffect all over the road on sunnier days.” So for the first time we understand the color.

“Interesting. But do you *really* believe–”

“That is for me to know and you to find out.” Could she wield her considerable powers over *him*? This is what her mother feared, why she was put into that totally colorless black and white cow costume and forced to forget. Venus power. All this, she thought, all this organization must be about her.

He realized he was staring at her uncomfortably. He pretended to organize his files about her before him, shuffled Pink on top again from the bottom. This was no time to bring up the 3-n-1 and the presence of Shelley Johnston Struthers (I was right!) and Frankie Brown Beige (or Beige Brown!) within as well. Pink on the surface; Pink she is. If only Marsha to him still, not counting as a friend. Yet.

(to be continued)

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