Tag Archives: NODAL

September 18, 2020 · 5:17 am

abduction

We do not purport to know what’s really going on at this French rr station with its blurring of time.

But could it be something to do with, for example, *this*?

Out on the platform, people walk one way…

… then mysteriously switch directions for the next shot.

A man appears just in this one photographed panorama and then vanishes. The logical answer is that this is the cameraman himself. Why the similar jacket and shirt to the other man here, though? Is it just chance; did they think this resonance funny and thus the jumping out of 1st person perspective and into the photo? Why at *this* station of all places? The Center of the Universe.

At the end of the camera’s journey on the platform, time is different in the mirror…

… from reality.

For the ultimate answers we may have to look upwards.

https://bakerbloch.com/2017/05/09/52988/

“She’ll get back here,” he said. “Go ahead… continue.”

As Baker spoke, the rest of the “Wall of Ass.” disappeared behind him, leaving Dali’s paintings alone in the apartment.

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September 3, 2020 · 9:16 pm

art critics

The Ant enters The Castle

to call his old friend Harrison Jett over at Fearzom. Jett was also an enemy — 1/2 and 1/2 — just like Yellowmoon was a higher and bigger mountain than nearby Fearzom but Jett’s castle was higher and bigger than Ant’s. They spoke to each other in a cordial yet tense manner. Blue was always tinged with red and visa versa. This was another Vain and Artery hemispheric situation.

“Hiya Harry!” He knew not calling him Harrison would irritate his friend/enemy slightly to start the game of chess.

“Hi Ant!” Harrison was holding his punches and jabs for later. Ant didn’t mind being called Ant. That was his name, plain and simple.

“Harry… Harrison,” Ant let up a bit. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“What is it my old friend?” Harrison dare not add, “and old enemy,” even though he was thinking it at the time. But he purposely pronounced friend like it rhymed with fiend. Jab 01.

“I’m having trouble with my Rothko loving neighbor and I was wondering if you could come over here and back me up a bit; act as a rear guard as it were.”

“As it is!” returned Harrison Jett, continuing to move pawns in an old game. Time did not matter in these conversations which both freely admitted and played around with.

“Thank you,” allowed Ant, knowing Harry aka Harrison would show up. But what could he request in turn? There was always the tit for the tat. 1/2 and 1/2. Always.

—–

He hung up the phone — took him a while as usual. “I’ve got go see the bastard Ant about something,” he spoke to his wife of 3 years and 30 seconds inside the larger castle on the shorter mountain of the two friends/enemies. He thanked her again for the leather wallet and she thanked him again for the leather harness before he departed. They’d put both to good use. They were cooperative that way. Things were good at home base for Harry. He inserted the apples back into his shirt-blouse and prepared to go to war.

—–


flying to Yellowmoon or thereabouts

(to be continued)

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August 15, 2020 · 8:19 am

Abbey 02

“I was wondering if you’ve seen a little boy. About yea high?” Walter Pillsbury then sticks his hand behind his head in a nervous reaction, pretending to scratch his neck. There was something on it that he wasn’t suppose to reveal. The hand must remain hidden and out of focus as best as possible.

“No, I’m afraid not sir. Like I tell everyone with such an inquiry, you’ll have to talk to the king.” That’ll put them off, Tipsy the barista thinks without saying. Because the king is much too busy to deal with such a trivial matter. Little did she know.

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August 15, 2020 · 7:15 am

po(u)ring

“Umbrella, huh?” muttered private dick Wendell “Biff” Carter after he’d finally found the correct place to read in his red book. Read book? Anyway, maybe it’s just the correct *place*… to read his book. Paperville. In a coffee and pastry shop with some suspicious design parallels with the recently opened Bake’s Bakery over in Teepot. He can read it here; he can read it there. Hmm (again). Better get over for a shot of those “Umbrella dunces.” *This* is where Dunce Boy aka D Boy aka DeBoy (etc.) went after his hat transformation and acquiring that tracking red tie from either the Pot-D or Pan-Z tracking gang. Probably the latter, unless it is the former. Jeffrie Phillips would know. If we could find him. He’s disappeared too. Another suspicious design parallel.

To that tell-tale Paperville sculpture:

Compare:

The Boy is here!

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August 11, 2020 · 6:37 am

The original Jeffrie Phillips.

“Entrails please.”

“On the house today, boy. *The* Boy. Congrats!” the old service robot creaked and cranked. The look became him.

“Aww. Thanks Slicey!”

“He’s at the (Bumble) Bee, David.” tracking Duncan Avocado spoke over a nearby phone. Indistinguishable talking from the other end, then: “Yeah, his maw’s out of town again. This was an easy one.”

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August 2, 2020 · 8:08 am

no rush

Jeffrie Phillips was waiting for someone in Teepot, perhaps that cute punk he propositioned yesterday.

Yes, there she is, with the relationship evolved enough to a point where she’s asking him to choose from the lot of them again. But he only has one in his heart: Audrey. The rest are distractions, pretty baubles for him to pick up and admire. She’s with Dr. Nightwing, though. Out on one of their “missions” once more. If only he and Mystic Girl would get together instead — another companion. But right now it was Audrey. He stares up at the stars. Probably on Cygnus X-9 or some far away place like that. He thinks of black holes. He looks at Charlene. He thinks of holes.

—–

“Nothing on the tube tonight, baby. Looks like we’ll have to go upstairs.” But she had no clear vision of where the relationship was going and thus having none of it.

Actually upon checking from behind she does have an angle for viewing. “Okay, let’s go for it,” she agreed after this pause to take another snapshot.

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July 22, 2020 · 9:55 am

one more

“I think Moe stands for Missouri, Hucka Doobie. I believe Moe may own a Moe or Mo Island above and beyond a CC tavern. He knows the Parkville guy. They have the same boss.”

“Bed,” Hucka simply says.

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June 24, 2020 · 6:25 am

Abbey

“My son use to *love* going to the elephant show over in Raccoon…”

“Great, Biggie,” interrupted the male Baker, wanting to get away from the character’s origin. “But let’s stick to the topic. Tell me what you saw happen in Room 03.”

“An outbreak, like I said. A loving wife killing her husband. Stabbed him in her eye, short ‘n’ sweet. The Triad is trying to get rid of any evidence of its existence. Thus the trouble in Dallows.”

“I’m not talking about that right now.” Baker Bloch pauses in his grilling to ponder the fate of the missing town there, and the rebuild. He checked yesterday. Only a couple of houses and a small forest to ride your horse through. No progress on that possibility. He resumes. “Let’s stay with the motel. You say your pal Mark A. saw a woman slice a man’s head open down in the town hospital and remove his brain, stick it in a sealed jar, and leave the hospital with it. How did he not tell the authorities this?”

“Witchcraft,” stated Big Black Smoke plainly to the primary owner of Urqhart’s (or thereabout’s) Collagesity. “And it was *no* man. It was a *God*.”

“Ahh, yes.” From their blue table and chairs, Baker Bloch looked around at the creation and saw it was good. David A. Or B. Both probably. But now: David A.B. Normal. Mr. Everyday Ordinary. He looked directly into Biggie’s eye. “And where is that Diamond of a Brain *now*?”

Big Black Smoke peered around as well, at the noisy cockatoo to their side spouting nonsense again. He could barely think above the racket. An umbrella cockatoo. Probably had all the answers. But who could understand her?? Except…

“Did it go home?” Baker Bloch guessed in the noisy silence. He wondered how long it would take *this* creation to collapse, just like what happened over in Stranger Creek.

(to be continued?)

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June 22, 2020 · 11:12 am

take and make

Sandman walks the rail, continuing to look for the one he calls The Spitter. He pauses to gander at this collection of junk on one side, knowing, through it, that he is indeed on the right track.

Onward…

—–

He finds another Lane to add to Penny, Arnold, Shelly at the end of this track, the latter a Firesign Theatre fan and a close match to his pattern, a two fer one fer zero kind of deal-i-o. Man.

The banana indicated *himself*.

He had no problem going further. He’d been walking away from Love for a looong time.

—–

Ant-man walked out of the rain to enter the lane.

—–

The rain catches up with him at The End. He is home.

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June 10, 2020 · 6:29 am

Multicolor

“A new town has arisen beyond the revolving tire, Cathy Love Peace Hippie Child. We must attempt to match its energy!”

“Sounds *great*!” the chipper hippie girl said, eyeing the namesake tower from her vantage point while following Rhiannon to the table with the magic cards. But she said to call her Golden.

—–

“Tsk tsk tsk. Oh dear. We better hurry.”

“Oh I feel *awful* again, Rhiannon.” Golden let the name slip go, given what just happened.

“Let’s start with a single.” She turned the just dealt card up.

—–

She sat in the middle of 4 and realized this was matching the energy.

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