Tag Archives: NODAL

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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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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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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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basement dwellers

Wrong side of the road.

—–

We watched from afar (right side of road). “This is where I got my butterflies,” she spoke over, hovering beside me. “You can have some too!” I didn’t need that kind of thing. I needed answers.

“Why are we here?” I cut to the chase. “Jeogeot, I mean. I thought Nautilus (continent) was our focus now. But as soon as we abandoned Collagesity it seems the energy drained away from it. So that would be novels 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 focused on that continent. But now…”

“You need to tell *this* tale because no one else will or can. Else… everything lost.”

Middletown, I assumed.

—–

I looked across the small Linden pool of water at the significant amount of land I could rent. I knew it was coming: the unleashing of MOA again. But not yet. Nautilus remains the one, the tentacled sphere locked away down in the castle’s dungeon. If head librarian Miss Ouri hadn’t already destroyed it. Will check as soon as I get back.

—–

No. Still there.

Oh. Hi me.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0105, Jeogeot, Midlands, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula

middle

Half the audience will be red, the other half blue. But in her purple sock hop outfit singing the right songs she thinks she can make it work. First off: the national anthem. “America the Beautiful”. No one can argue with that choice.

She decides to augment the “purple” in mountain through synthesizer manipulation. Lampton will be more than willing to help, she realizes. He knows the importance of all this too. The manipulation of the people of our great US of A.

Come on back Lemont Sanford (!). Turns out you weren’t killed off after all. Wheeler has that power.

But Duncan Avocado was another story and thus we cut off at the drums. Acapella I presume. Get ready for that augmentation Arthur “Kill van Kull” Lampton!

“Oh beautiful for spacious skies…” Beautiful singing voice. Just beautiful. Get ready.

“For ℘ùℜ℘Îē …”

She keeps singing but she scans the audience for change.

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00340101

“I *know* this person,” thinks Wheeler at the door of the investigator/psychic’s interior office. She’s playing around with forms again, and this one is an extension of her recent consumption of fries with cheese at the nearby Twin Peaks bar and grill. File it under: you are what you eat. She thought she had 30 days before the skin turned green on this freebie avatar she’s attached to the outfit. Not as advertised; no wonder it was a budget item. She’s trying to become — but never mind. It’s not turning out. But that figure on the door (!).

“What was that Mrs. Corn?” Corn? she thinks. A last name? What’s the first? But she knows what it is.

“Oh… nothing. Just staring at the big eye on your door. It reminds me of someone.”

Psychic-detective Roberts pivots toward Mabel (Mabel!). “We’ve been through this.”

The situation changes.

—–

Jack barges in with his recently cleaned shovel. “Ma’am, the corpse is now bur — oh. Sorry. Didn’t know you were with someone.” Why would he? Miss Roberts never has any clients. Except dead ones. But this one appears to be alive. And green! Must be — but it couldn’t. Martian?

“Hi Harry,” he speaks over to the shorter figure standing beside her, also a gnome, also working for the firm.

“Hello Jacob,” as Harold calls Jack, which he doesn’t like but puts up with. Harry’s a nice guy. And a great carpenter. He did a fine job with this coffin. Extra long, but he made it fit.

“Just looking for the case, Mrs. Corn,” Roberts excuses herself to Mabel, now considerably smaller but just as green. Moreso, since she’s now wearing a Hannah Montana lime toned outfit, fresh from a concert at the Rooftop Inn over in mid-town. Where are we, then? The land description mentions an asylum. Is everyone here nuts? Could explain the outfit.

And the book! Just like the one at the newly established Table Room on Rooster’s Peninsula, where I live as a castle dweller, library in the center still. For now. A sprite was looking in it for information about her type, where she comes from, what are her weaknesses. This is Greenleaf, who also shows up in Towerboro standing on a big rock behind Dove, formerly Ivory, but still a sister to Ebony on the giant tree trunk dead in front of her: Deadwood. And the alphabit spread out on the forest floor below them, which they eat with a spoon one by one by one until they reach M, when *they’re* dead. Mmmmmm dead. Thirteenville.

But I feel like I’m needlessly complicating things again. Let’s back up more.

—–

“Okay, Mrs. Daigle. Let me just begin to look for that case we were just talking about. Oh — and Barry? You can take off your pyramid and go home now. I think you’ve learned your lesson well enough, young gnome.”

The striped dunce cap he was wearing! One and the same.

We must follow this figure and see what happens next.

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