Tag Archives: NODAL

00340311

My boy is 15 minutes late, she thought beside the absorbed portrait in the middle of town. Better go meet up with him.

She looks just like I remember her! he thought. Hadn’t changed a bit. But the designer drug was wearing off bit by bit. One by one, the wrinkles began to appear on her face, under her eyes, alongside her chin. Yes: different. Mom but changed. The years have treated her well but they’re still years to live with. Barry realizes the duck will be gone too when he returns to his motel. It was *their* diner. They always met here under the gold tipped pyramid. To talk about life, where they were both heading, where they have been. His mother was always more like a best friend than a parent. She was only 17 years older than him. He felt like he could talk to her about anything. Including the duck.

“Mom,” he starts.

“Don’t,” she said, putting finger to lips and making a shh sound. “I know about the duck.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0311, Gold City-, Jeogeot

in the Middle

She checks the graffiti portrait in the exact center of town to make sure (128/128 Yangban).

Yes this hair will do fine. 🙂

Barry DeBoy checks into the Mid-town motel of the large Jeogeot city with the Duck.

Came with the room apparently.

He figured with all the other stuff happening, it’s his now. “Excuse me, Paul,” he said while squeezing past it to wash his hands and tidy up.

Meeting Mom in 3 hours. He’s very nervous. They hadn’t seen each other in 3 hours. Just enough time to shower and get ready. Ready get and shower to time enough just.

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00340307

August 14, 1974. Lucy Blue Dress takes one last look back at the campsite she’d stayed her summer after graduating from high school. She’d miss the cool cool stream that flowed and sometimes cascaded by her tent. She’d miss the gatherings at Sugar’s shack with all the weirdos of the woods. She’d miss more organized White Tree Village and dreamy Bluebird who lived there and who she took occasional long walks with. Most of all, there was Titiana and Vanessa, her bestest friends during this period in her life. “Come with me to college!” she begged of them beside their favorite wagon near the shack near the center. “No, we stay here,” said Vanessa, which made Titiana nod. They all called her Tiana, because her full name was just a little too much to pronounce in casual conversation. She didn’t like it but she accepted the shortening; she was growing up and becoming more mature about such things. Both were smart. Both took the SATs and did well enough to go to their pick of at least a public school. But: no. The woods had captivated them beyond escape. The Ourobos that is the stream had worked its magic, beginning matched with end. They would be happy going round in circles the rest of their lives, without a worldly degree, without a decent and rewarding job that resulted in such, without the ability to support a family beyond perhaps a husband or wife — both girls swung either way on that preference. “The woods will take care of us,” they said, and bade her farewell with teary hugs just minutes ago. They offered to follow her to the campsite down the stream and see her off from her woodlands home of 2 months but she said this wasn’t necessary, and there was no reason for them to watch her leave the way they all came: alongside the brick wall that led outta here. This corner is where the woods die for her.

And then there was Zapppa, who was set to leave the forest himself tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow at the latest, he promised. “Just gotta wrap up something at the cemetery,” he said minutes before she then met with Vanessa and Titiana that one last time.

He was the love of her life. Pretty sure of that, she was. Going to college with her, he was. Studying math: her, psychology. Stats would be their shared passion beyond the bed. They determined there was a 24.687531% chance they would return here after college, using their acquired skills to better the woods and their denizens and citizens. Never happened. The zero and nine would have to be added in to make it work and that, they realized, would defeat the whole purpose. Worldly they remained.

In one reality.

(to be continued)

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00340301

An urban legend claims that the monolith used in 2001: A Space Odyssey can be seen in some scenes of Zappa’s film 200 Motels (The Film). While a monolith can indeed be seen [most prominently at the beginning of the song “Penis Dimension”], it’s actually not the same one used in Kubrick’s film, as Kubrick had most of his models destroyed after 2001 was finished. On the same token Zappa didn’t film in the same studio Kubrick filmed 2001 in either. [1]

But it was the same, at least in spirit. And Zappa must have noted the 200-2001 similarity for the films. Subtraction of the 1 must have been satisfying for him, like he emasculated The Beatles with “We’re Only in It for the Money”. The monolith, the slab, is a penis with dimensions of 1:4:9. Perfection. It can all be telescoped back to 1 (and then gotten rid of).

—–

Zappp had long thought he’d always keep the extra p in his name after adding it in school. “Play Ruben and the Jets,” the children chided in the playground, lovers of doo-wop at an early age. “Sing Yellow Snow,” most of the same requested in jr. high after progressive rock became all the rage. You want extra p, he thought vindictively when all this went down, I’ll give you an extra p. At 9 o’clock on Wednesday’s Thursday’s Friday, October 5-7, 1973 he announced his name change. Zappp. 3 p’s in a row, not 2. *Now* try to make Zappp A. into Zappa, ya’ll.

But what he found in that grave when he dug up old man Franklin had him doing a rethink. It was a dream, yes. No one in their right mind would try to raise that dick from the dead. Sorcerer, everyone has heard. Wizard say some. Zappp knows it is the latter. Because he’s been contacting him via wegee board for years. Robert Franklin; Roberts and Franklin. Wonder what happened to Roberts, because they were quite the team, measuring their careers against each other, like, well, like the type of people they were. Probably doing the same kind of stuff in the afterlife. Again he should know. Old Man Franklin gives him an update from The Beyond at least every other week. Or the WIZARD does — Zappp is not quite convinced the 2 are one and the same, a logical reduction, despite mounting evidence over time. They sleep in the same metaphorical bed is all he concedes.

And then *this* when he wakes up. What is someone trying to tell him? He feels like the disposing of the newly placed Monolith over there — just digging it up (as well) perhaps — is the same as getting rid of the extra p in his name. Strong conviction on this.

He and Ben could do it together; he’s plenty strong but he’d need help from the stronger animal. But Ben had run away, totally frightened of the thing standing so shiny and alien in the far corner of the yard, and with that weird humm emitting from it, like some kind of dynamo — Dinah… Moe, hmm. Zappp couldn’t blame him. He’d like to run away in the woods too. Big Woods. Big Run. Anything besides facing another decision tree. While he’s at it, he may just dig up that tree as well.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0301, Big Woods, Jeogeot

Zappp Adams

“GRROWLLL!”

“What the?! — oh, hi Ben. You scared me you joker. I thought Eloise over there had come back to life!”

“GRROWLLL!”

“Yeah, I know. You’re probably starving. Been gone for 2 days. Where’ve you been… Ben, he he?”

“GRROWLL?”

“Well come on in and tell me all about it, then. We’ll eat breakfast and share stories. Because *I’ve* got something to tell *you* too, something you won’t believe.”

—–

“I don’t blame you, Ben. I don’t want to get too close to it either.”

“GRRRRROWWWWL!”

“I know. I’m scared too.”

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00340206

He sat in that hard-to-find, tucked away cafe in Ontario, sipping his coffee and waiting for the morning fog to clear so he can safely explore more of the city. Perhaps it never will this time, story finished for now (again).

Meanwhile, over in Jeogeot…

… clear as a bell.

Let’s begin with the manor.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0206, Big Woods, Jeogeot, Wendy-Ontario-

00340116

He knew if he stayed low like this he would not be seen. The little trees in this park on the northern edge of Ontario were just too thick for proper viewing above knee level. And that was the point of John and Jem being here: out of sight. John gave Jem the “medicine” that would produce the duck and give her the needed results. Probably only 1 day left; cutting it close. As it had to be. Too risky otherwise. “The duck will lead the way,” he says while handing over the zip lock bag with the blue powder (blue? powder?).

In quiet mode, Newt took a couple snapshots with his built in camera then watched John exit west and Jem south, out of the trees and into the world of man again. Martha’s board spelled it out in no uncertain terms last night. SAVE THE GIRL.

(to be… continued)

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00340113

Turns out the duck had as many varied talents as his new master, including the ability to wheel and deal at a rapid pace. He quickly garnered the job of chief salesperson at the local car dealership. John, attached to him by the ankle and neck and some other places, had to tag along. He mainly played jigsaw puzzles on his phone while the other worked. A few hours each night, he was free to roam the streets of town and explore while the other slept. This is when he secretly rendezvoused with Martha and had a chat with the Wizard through that wegee board of hers. W-I-Z-A-R-D it began, announcing the spirit.

Meanwhile, over in Jeogeot Wheeler is surrounded by rainbow colored butterflies.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0113, Jeogeot, Midlands, Wendy-Ontario-

Jem and… Jim?

“I’m only talking to you through this wall this time. *John*.”

“You know I’m not John. I’m Jim.”

“I bought that *before*. Not now. (longer pause) *John*.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented while still dancing up a storm. Hadn’t rained in Ontario since last Tuesday’s Wednesday. He’s trying to chip in, help out the town where he can. Week before last it was portraitures for the poor, however worthless that was. Then the week before that: free bungee jumps for babies down at the gorge. Rope and elastic was a speciality, but he had many of those. He could compose music too. This was his song he was dancing to. “Rat Infested Jim,” the first single from his critically panned but nevertheless cult hit psychedelic heavy metal album “Alice in Suds”. It’s about a man who turns into a rodent and eats insulation in the walls of houses, focusing on the hottest summer and coldest winter days. The title song and next released single from the album is about a woman who can’t find a towel because of all the bubbles produced from her bath, eventually going blind as a result.

“You know why I’m here.”

Dancing stays steady. “The duck. You think I know where the duck is.”

“Right. Welll?”

“Did you look high? Did you look *while* you’re high? Preferably high as a kite in the hands of an experienced Benjamin Franklin. Like *me*, hehe.”

“Stop the nonsense,” Jem plainly stated, taking a swig of her Stygian to mask another oral fixation. “You know I don’t do that stuff any more. Besides, I don’t have the energy now.” She pivots, peers at him through the opening in the chalkboard bar.

“Like I told you before, I don’t have much time. Not much (sniff), time at all (sniff sniff wipe-nose sniff). Help mee,” she squeaked, desperation in her voice and facial expressions. She wipes her face of tears with her arm, sniffs again, sniffs some more, wipes some more, looks off in the distance all moist eyed and mascara stained.

John took pity on her. He didn’t stop dancing but he was formulating a plan. He knew she met the duck the first time when she was high but that wouldn’t work any longer. They’d have to use the wegee board.

The rain starts. The dance stops. Now on to the next good deed.

(to be continued)

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00340110

“What did you do to him Jerry?”

“What did *you* do to him… Gerry?”

Pause. “Well whoever did whatever I’ve got to go on patrol. You can stay here and bare the stares — figure it out.”

“We could just go talk to him.” Both laugh. Jack would have no useful information to give the pair of security guards: what he’s apparently pissed off about with one of them or perhaps both of them, or anything about Ontario in general. He’s a bad ass, in a bad way. He does the bidding of the Big Boss and that’s it, period. Doesn’t share anything with no one except for the highest level, the Mayor, the King, perhaps merged now as the Mayor-King. Hafta check; hafta think about that. New angle. Maybe Mexico-Canada related.

“He’s got that gun shop, you know,” states Gerry before he goes to punch keys on his rounds. “He could be toting one right now, ready to go on a killing spree.”

“Nah,” offers seated Jerry. “Wouldn’t come to that. He’s a company man. Doesn’t want to ruin his standings in the hierarchy.” Jerry leans in closer to Gerry. “There’s a potential slot opening for no. 3, you know. The guy in the middle.”

“Not North not South — I’ve heard,” he says back not far above a whisper as well. Mayor-King it is.

Meanwhile, a duck-man on a neighboring rooftop had more useful information, but no one knew how to reach him, least of all Jem, who could use it the most right now. 3 more days and ticking.

Even John had forgotten and he invented the anthropomorphic fellow — let the SOB loose unto the world at large. Repeated cloning comes with a price, but I can’t remember what it is right now (wonder why).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0110, Canada, Mexico, Wendy-Ontario-