Tag Archives: Philip StrevorGTAV^*++$

00480315 (dream)

“Yeah, that’s him, Frank. I’d recognize those beady little eyes anywhere. And that smile!” Philip turns, realizes Frank is no longer with him. He calls anyway. “Frank? Franky boy — you here?” He stares around, then peers over at the conjunction of 2 streams below the railroad trestle bridge, lesser to greater. Copper to Silver some say, although he knows better about the former. This is Edward. Flowing into Silver directly below the train trestle marking the boundary between West and North; green and blue.

Frank says there’s people down there, Philip thinks while trying to spot any on the small peninsula. He knows they’d have to be tiny from his perspective, like ants. “Frank?” he says softer soas not to hurt littler ears. (TBC)

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00480305

He was talking to himself again while writing. “Golden glove, golden *glover*,” he muttered. Philip had turned his back on the man called Mouse, thinking about his own stuff. Like how to beat Mouse’s high score in High Speed. Maybe take some speed? NO, he cannot go down that route to highness again. Might end up in another dimension once more! “Philip,” said Mouse. “Could you please move your elbow a bit. Trying to concentrate here.”

“Have you figured it out?” asked curious Frank to his left. He knew he hadn’t but was just making conversation to kill time. They’d finished eating and didn’t want to do anything else. Just: rest. No pinball for Philip, no piano for Frank. At least for a while. But Mouse had his post-dinner project. Scribbling down notes about the Youtube poop videos he’d been watching and studying, focus on CENTER. He couldn’t wait. It was just that urgent for him.

“It would *help* if I knew the name of the character who emerges from the wall of static in 08:10.” Mouse had started naming his videos after their time, but neither Frank nor Philip were keeping tabs. To them all the videos blurred together in a great big chaotic mess. They didn’t see the beauty in the re-mix products that Mouse did. I guess he had to. Salvation and all. Plus he was in some of them so that helped draw him in. He saw *himself* in them. He could identify. “Philip… *please*,” he requested again about the elbow.

Philip got up, stretched. “I’m booored. Let’s play Weegee again.”

“It’s *not* a game to play… like pinball,” Frank said to this. “It’s a channeling device. Serious stuff.”

“Nah,” said Philip, dismissing Frank’s opinion. “A game,” he punctuated his own belief about it. “But I’ve changed my mind again. I think I’ll explore the upper levels this afternoon, see what’s up there.”

“*Maybe*,” offered Frank. “Lexi needs some help straightening out the house *down* there,” and he pointed down toward the ground where Philip officially lived, in Lexi’s house by the sea. But in truth he spends almost 1/2 his time up here in the sky, in Frank’s giant moving castle that appears to have lost its sense of mobility. That’s about to change.

“Nah,” repeated Philip. “Upper levels.” And he moved through the opening of the kitchen down to the living room to access the spiral staircase. Sighing, Frank decided to follow him and leave Mouse to his notetaking.

(TBC)

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00480304

“Soo. I gotta ask this, Frank. Is Mouse your *boyfriend* now or something?”

“Noooo.” But he was thinking: Might as well be. We’re stuck together up here it seems. Until Mouse learns his lesson; could take a while, he knew. A looong while. “How’s your *girlfriend* doing, Philip?” Frank thinks to ask in turn, knowing Nada and he were still going through some difficulties.

“Oh, she’s okay.” Philip was concentrating on his pinball prowess, Frank doing the same with his piano. Spongeberg’s Invention #4… so difficult to get the fingering down! In other words, neither were paying much attention to what they were saying to each other. Typical. Not really feeling the other’s pain.

More dinging and clanging from Philip, more fingering from Frank. Philip was trying to beat Mouse’s high score for the month. Frank was also trying to beat a score in a way. Spongeberg’s Invention set down on paper. He feels the notes swirling before him like an angry mob, ready to leap out of the page and take over his mind, his castle, everything. 1000 points to go for Philip. 1000 notes to go for Frank. Or so.

“Listen, Frank. I wonder if you could ask the *Pooping Pigeon* up there to turn down the video feed. It’s as loud as my pinball machine and I’m standing right before it!”

“I’ll try.” Middle C, he thinks. It all revolves around Middle C.

After a couple of moments, Philip reiterates his request. But just then Mouse returns to “Earth” to test out a new resonant center he’d found in one of his many Youtube poop videos he’d saved to his various playlists. New Hampshire and Vermont, he ponders while heading down. I think I know where this is leading to!

(to be continued)

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00480104

“Weird how it’s just spinning on its own.”

“Yeah, and we’re not even touching it yet (!). Energy is strong here for sure. Soooo… you ready? Just grab it and it will stop; it will magnetize to you, then. You start, and then I’ll take hold of it too.” Black first, Lexi knew from past experience with this kind of setup. Like a proper game of Iowa cheskers out in some random cornfield.

—–

“Are you there, spirit?”

The planchette rather quickly moves to YES.

“Thank you. Can you tell us your name?”

The planchette pretty quickly spelled out EDWARD and then PIERROT. So far so good. Everything Philip described is turning out correct.

“Are you the same as Edward Hopper?”

NO, came the even quicker response.

“Can you tell me if you go by another name?”

The planchette stayed still about 5 seconds. Then: JOHNSTON.

“Johnston?” Lexi uttered. “Who do we know that goes by Johnston?”

“Lexi!” Frank exclaimed. “Your hair!”

(to be continued)

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00480102

https://www.sartle.com/artwork/soir-bleu-edward-hopper

“I’ve figured out who Edward is, Lexi. I don’t think we have to worry about Philip now as much as the castle itself and what, as he says, lives behind the walls. Realism strikes back against abstraction!”

“Say what?”

He swivels his laptop with the appropriate article pulled up toward Lexi. “The perriot. That’s Hopper. Found it pretty quickly using a search for Edward + pierrot.”

“Oh. Edward *Hopper,*” she said, recognizing at least the style. “So that’s who’s haunting the castle? A dead artist?”

“Kind of. Still unclear on that. But I’ve decided we need to have a seance. You’re the official channeller of Nawt Vaya Free State, Lexi.”

“Only because of that premonition about the alcoholic sea monster!” she says with a laugh, Hole in the Wall bar raised 100 feet in the air just in the nick of time to be saved from swallowing.

“Nevertheless, I think we should try. Else… Philip will never come back up. He’ll always be with you, Lexi. Forever… and ever. Noooooo escape.”

“Okay okay, I’ll do it,” she relents and then stares at the laptop again, the white face, the painted red lips and the cigarette sadly drooping from them. Another dropper? She imagined it spilling from his mouth, catching the crotch of his sad clown pants on fire. How to put it out how to put it out? He can’t. Not without our help.

“Tonight?” requests Frank. “I know it’s short notice but… I can’t sleep in that place now. He’s staring at me too!”

“Tonight,” acquiesced Lexi, already planning what candles and incense would be required to set the proper mood. And, of course, the Weegee board.

(to be continued)

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00480101 (new month, new photo-novel)

“Who are you? And what are you doing here??”

——

“He said he was this guy. I’m telling you Frank. These walls are haunted!”

“Simmer down, Philip. Say he *gave* this to you?”

“Yeah; just dropped it into my inventory and then vanished. Said he lived here. He’s lived here for a long time. Behind the fireplace; in the walls. Watching. This is a colored version of him where I saw a white one. But I know they’re the same. And… sorry about saying the word colored,” he apologized while looking over at his black friend, who took the mention in stride. “Like black-and-white and colored TVs I suppose,” Philip needlessly continued the apology. “No harm meant.”

“Watching, huh. Creepy.” Frank didn’t believe Philip’s story but was just going along for the ride.

“Like I said, Pierrot’s the name. Edward Pierrot. Said he died here or something, then mentioned Alabama. But now he’s back, he said. Like the Alabama Phoenix, whatever that means.”

“But… Phoenix is in Arizona. Dawg,” he added to make it more authentically him.

“I don’t know. But I, um, might not be coming up as much, Frank, to be honest with you. He’s *watching*. How can I play pinball in peace and escape all the stress of the world if I know *that*.”

“Truly an issue. Well, tell you what, Philip. I’ll dig into it, maybe hire some kind of exorcist, you know.”

“Really?” exuded Philip, still not catching on that Frank doesn’t believe anything he’s saying. “That would be *great*, bud.” And he punched him on the shoulder to show his gratitude and then excused himself, saying he’s late for dinner with Lexi down at the sea. He still didn’t like Frank to call Nawt Vaya a lake but Frank doesn’t do that much anymore. He’s caught on too. He likes it here! No dead fish smell, etc. Much better than the Alamo where it/they came from. “Remember the Alamo,” Philip likes to say. “And then forget all about it,” he adds the punchline, the joke of it all. Alamo > Nawt Vaya. Fate, they’ve determined. Lexi too in her own special way and special place manner.

After he went home, Frank continued to stare at the painting Philip left behind. Frank can’t return it immediately or Philip will see it show up in his lost and found folder and maybe get wise to his little game. So he just moves the thing up into the ceiling so he won’t have to look at it all the time. He’d have to talk to Lexi about Philip’s new issues first chance he gets. Maybe an extension of the ones we’ve seen him saddled with in photo-novel 47 — just completed in the nick of time for its end of August deadline, yay!

https://bakerbloch.com/virtual/sunklands-2025-middle/


Another Edward Pierrot from a land far removed now (Mythopolis).

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00470614 (When one door closes…)

Lexi enters her rented Gaston room once more, notices things are a bit different, a bit off. Not as much character now. That wall over there, she then spots it. Untextured, and with no secret door. And that… window?

—–

He moved the secret door formerly beneath this flapper girls painting back behind the spiral staircase going upwards if not downwards. Just in time, because dizzy Philip needed a place to lie down after his episode, guest bedroom formed behind it in the process. “You stay here as long as you need, Philip, to recover. I’ll make sure Lexi and Nada know where you are.”

“Rest,” is all he could manage from his prostrate position, then shut his eyes again.

Soon Lexi and Nada were also by his side in this tiny, crowded new room. “Is he dying?” Nada asked Frank and Lexi, a small portion of her only 1/2 hoping he wasn’t. “Um,” says Lexi. “Er,” says Frank. “He’s had these episodes before,” stated a new person coming through the secret door and entering. Or simply standing at the “door” because there wasn’t any more room in the room. Marion Star Harding, named for yet another Ohio president that was never a president. Like R. “Booger” Hayes before him, the president/non-president that started all that. Hayes, Garfield, Harrison, McKinkley, Taft, Harding. Yeah: that’s the end of it, at least for the good people of Ohio. And Harding knew fellow Ohioan Sherwood Anderson, penner of “Winesburg”, or at least Anderson’s father. In the small village of Caledonia of that state. More synchy stuff. Played in a school band with him most likely, although the records aren’t definitive. No recording of their music either of course, that being back in the late 1800s. Might as well be from the Dark Ages. Back to the action…

“Who *are* you?” exclaimed Frank, wondering how this stranger found out about his castle in the skies… in *disguise*. He looks at both Nada and Lexi on either side. “Friend of yours perhaps?” producing headshakes instead of the expected nods. “They can’t remember,” says Marion to this surprise, because, as we’ve seen, they all know each other in Gaston. *Knew* each other. “Not with *you* around.”

“Me?” utters Frank innocently. Then it begins to dawn on him. He *wrote* about this. As he recalled the character, Marion Star Harding fades from the scene. Philip has a new original partner in crime.

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00470613

“You were standing right where you are now,” explained Philip as best he could from the couch again. “You said, get this, Newton’s ship *just blew up*. Like *that’s* going to happen. We’ll be out of here by tomorrow’s today. I’m on record for not liking it but that’s what’ll happen I suppose. Nawt Vaya here we come (sarcastic tone of voice).”

“But…” stammered Marion, indeed at the window and that’s about it for the truth of Philip’s talk, at least in his own world view. “… Newton’s ship *did* blow up. The atomics he used to supercharge the sim skipper malfunctioned — imagine that: dangerous atomic *fission*. If only he’d waited for fusion, but I guess we didn’t have the time. OR the effort, pheh.”

“Fission — dangerous? Nah. You’re on drugs, Marion.”

“*You’re* on drugs,” Marion quickly shot back.

And Philip realized he was, or the equivalent thereof.

It was that damn High Speed game. It reactivated something in his brain. He was in 2 places at once when… well, you know. Nowhere at all actually. The Void.

He kept falling and falling and falling. “Help!” he yelped. “Hellllllppppp!” But noone was there, not even a single Beatle. If he would have waited for Yesterday, but he assumed that would only be tracking backwards. Right over the retired, NON-atomic sim skipper named Dizzy Miss Lizzy Gastonites will have to manage with from now on, or at least until fusion.

But it doesn’t have the power to get them all the way to Nawt Vaya. Just some neighboring sims like Hard Days Night and Californication at best. Local travel only.

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00470612 (tip of the tongue)

—–

“Thanks for letting me come up here today and play pinball. Ironic thing, heh. I use to play this game while I was high on speed! ha ha.”

“That’s great Philip.” Now Frank Lynn wished he hadn’t invited his old friend up to his castle. With Lexi not around, less control over his manic behavior. She’s a good roommate for him, he realizes. Nothing more, but still… I guess there’s Nada for all the other stuff.

“Got any?” Philip utters while still dinging away.

“Um.. what?” Frank was trying to play Spongeberg’s Invention No. 4 and was having trouble with it, mainly thanks to Philip. It all revolves around middle C — must always keep that in mind, he reminded himself while continuing the careful fingering. Maybe I should paint the key red to emphasize its importance.

“You know, *speed*.”

“Um…” Frank then realizes what Philip was asking about. “Oh… *no* dawg. I haven’t done any of that (drugs) since moving here. I don’t need it here.” Back to the invention. Middle C, middle C.

“Well, gotta go then, I suppose.” Philip then lets go of the pinball machine and backs away from it, as if waking up from a dream. “W-what? Where *am* I?

“And who are *you*?”

“Cut it out, Philip. Yeah, maybe it’s time for you to go home.” Middle C middle C middle C…

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00470610

Trying to keep my head above the water.

7 6 posts to go! Will I make it by the end of August?? We’ll return here (MISTY-MO), but probably not in the current photo-novel. Must end with an N, soo… back to Nawt Vaya!

—–

“We’ve halfway lost Greg Ogden; and Philip Strevor, Lexi [insert last name], and Nada New Year are also fading out around the table here. We have to do something, Newt! Nawt Vaya is in peril!

“And finish whatever needs to be done by 7 so we won’t miss any of our TV viewing time!” *click*

—-

Soon Newt manifests high in Frank’s Moving Castle again, far above Wheeler and her vanishing troupe of avatars down in the entrance room. He inserts the magical glass of freshly squeezed lemonade from an unblighted Juho citrus tree he brought along with him into the face of the fire and backs away.

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