Area 54 (where are you?).
A welcoming sight in the woods (reversed; w/ balancing male and female rock piles).
Bottle tree. Just been added to the day before this photo was taken.
Sitting Bullrock (not to be confused w/ much larger Bullrocks way up the mountain slope; maybe rename one or the other; this is where I *sit*).
In a different meadow: both a white-ish golf ball and large-ish white rock (“Diamond”) placed here.
This overall location framed by the 2 welcoming sight rock stackings is *mysterious*.
“We have to get rid of your kind to make room for the ships.”
“We’ll give you a proper burial spot.”
“Query?” Rock would have raised a hand to ask an important question in his mind if he had any. But [Paper] already knew the answer.
“Quarry,” was his presumed corrective response. Stupid Rocks, he thought inwardly. We should cover them quickly to halt the dense talk.
Scissors then cut in, the hopeful champion of Rock and defender to the grave. But he would only beat her to a pulp when freed from his cage in the interrogation room, continuing the circle ad nauseam.
Probably Bigfoot. Or not. Welcoming anyways.
Here’s some evidence Bigfoot may like Hot Wheels. They’ve maybe screwed this bit o’ track to the floor of a “covered bridge” located not far from the first photo of this post above. Probably not again, but just saying, just showing. And the arranged rocks once more…
I wonder if they swing on this swing when they know no one is around, play with the rocks, bring their Hot Wheels and more track stored safely out of the elements in their nearby dwelling places to attach to this base stretch. Could be Bigfoot children taking a break from the serious lives of their parents and elders. Just make sure a human doesn’t see you, they might warn. Or they could be out on a lark. Bad Bigfoot children! if so. Elders always know best when it comes to safety.
We cannot speak of Area 54 and its mysterious rocks and pipes (etc.) in any detail which would provide you the reader further information for the weighing of truths in this matter. Maybe later, sorry.
He hid behind tall tufts of Pampus Grass (etc.) waiting for Jenny to pull into the Crystal Hill of Moonberry, the central mount of the 3 Queendoms in extreme lower Nautilus. Nauty: but in a different form.
Can had been easy to overtake, having all those holes in his head, holes matching holes. “Glory be!” he exclaimed in his now non-wheezy voice as he seeped into the body, the only way to ditch pretty but snitchy Miss Ouri, monitoring the Lower Austra beaches for any sign of escape. Now if I can just keep *this* body from loving her as well. Can fell for Alysha before, and Ouri is just a different form of the same. We’re back in Arkansaw and that is something. Monster Book.
There she is (!) *CRASH*. Uh oh. Right on the rocks.
Directly above Can who is the same as Nauty now, another figure watched the incoming ship with great interest.
Soon both were ejected from his or her land.
(to be continued?)
“So you see, Man About Town–”
“Time. Man About Time,” MAT mildly corrected.
“Yes, of course. Anyway, we don’t need to be a part of Lower Austra. We are more than capable of protecting ourselves with our large ships, *huge* in the case of the Pompelmoo here.”
“I see.” Indeed this particular boat stretched from one corner of the namesake sim to the other, darn near close to 400 meters total then. MAT admittedly couldn’t wait to explore it more, along with the rest of the island, this Trinidad? “Did you say the name of your island here was Trinidad?” he tried to clarify.
It took Zapppa back, to when he first found the island himself. A lone painter was there. Rock painter, before they moved all the rocks to make room for the ships. Named the Captain but not because he was a naval hero or anything. Jon Carson tried to get to the bottom of it, my mate in the tiny “Annoying ZZ Mat” that made the trip from Nautilus City to the southeast, he reminisced. *Barely*. Almost sunk along the way. “Sink Sank Sunk” we nicknamed it after that, because it produced the same results over time. And now I’m with a man named Time. Funny how things go in a big circle — MAT again and all too. He’s finding out himself how special this island is. “Trinidad?” he finally answered. “Well, that depends.” It’s the same thing the Captain said all those years ago.
(to be continued)
The white block shoes were not ideal for walking on rocks but she had to find something on this beach, perhaps a discarded *Can*.
But how to kill that man who found it first and then dispose of the body? Issues. Always issues.
Pincushioned Nauty hid behind a nearby tuft of grass ready to run interference on this beachcombing chump if needed. He’d found MOA and that called for protection. Because *everyone* still in their right mind was looking for it, good or evil. Miss Ouri: probably evil since she’s emphasizing kill over kiss, death over love.
Whatever you seek with focused intent, there it is. Fear (tentacle emphasis) can bring you to this point as well.
“This board must be broken Debbie. I can’t get black to move first.”
It was over in 13. White (Dickie (Archibald)) had no more to say. Sister Debbie retreated back up the cave tunnel from the meeting in the underground game room to her Hobbit Hill rental, pondering what just happened and the true nature of reality. *Why* can’t black start? Who goes first, what goes second? She doesn’t know; can’t figure it out currently. There must be a game of chesskers where the rules are reversed, she ascertains later, but only after the mission is done.
“We’ve just got the one piece left,” Rescue John responded to Rescue Joe’s question about the face. “But it’s a crucial one. Looks like, let’s see, we’ve got a green eye instead of a blue to match the other. Asymmetry: can’t have it.”
“Boss wouldn’t be please,” Joe said back weakly, and looked into the distance from the top of the Gap toward the Hobbit Hill rental, toward Jer and Jem’s Ragged Rocks abode, toward Tar and Jey’s watermill home, and toward the cottage on the perch currently housing interns (Devil) Dave and Karoz straight from fabled academic mecca Crabwoo after their final exams were done and over with. He knows the answer lies out there somewhere. But here… they can only insert the wrong piece for now; no other way. He says this to John, who agrees to “finish” the process with a big sigh. “Green it is,” and crams it in despite the ill fitting nature of the thing.
Wheeler can see again.
“Tell me about Dub?”
It was an odd question from the former Bottle Cruncher star. 5’5″ Jer Ronamy, who also went by the name of Chuck Laser back in the days, an athletic moniker. Laser sharp were his passes and few lost their arms as a result, even though they played at the bottom of one (Starfish Lake arm). Plus they would just grow back; many smaller guards of his kind used this regeneration process to their advantage; fitted it into their overall game plan and strategy. Not brown clad Chuck, except when he masqueraded as purple garbed Joel Maser that one year he went undercover to play for a rival team so that they could face each other in the championship. Zircon vs. Amethyst, just like it was suppose to be; battle of the Titans. Never spotted, although the name should have been a giveaway. Just short enough to fly below the radar. It was tricky playing both sides in the finals but he explains it all in his book, “Going Both Ways,” disguised as outlining his prowess on both the offensive and defensive ends. Read between the lines and it’s all there: never was any defense when he was on offense and visa versa. I mean, you can read about it in this way but it’s still hard to believe. He planted a double, a lookalike. Similar name, yeah. A bit taller so as not to be *too* suspicious. And, oh yeah, that magical charm around the whole thing enacted by Morgan the Hagg. People hated him when they eventually found out. A lot of money was lost the day he hoisted the trophy as high as possible over his 5’5″ frame on a pedestal built by those that worshiped him.
“Dub?” responded Devil Dave back in the present, thinking back to receiving the ill wind from that Maebaleia cave in the sky. Does he also know about the jungle and all that goes on there, the wildness (in the wilderness)?
We need to bring in a female to balance out the whole and make a 4orrin1. Jem should do the trick, a simulacrum who thinks she is real and the only type who would stand Jer for any length of time, like seconds. Here she is with the rest.
(to be continued)
Stacks of rocks greeted me upon my return to Newfound Lands today, right where I park my car and cross a small stream, an out of the way place indeed at the entrance to my “secret path” up the hill (I call it the Daffodil Path). I took it as a sign someone was pleased I was doing this. Thing is, it rained really hard last night and I believe the rocks had to be stacked earlier in the day because of flooding, only several hours at best before I arrived. Yet no one was around. I donned my “I Believe” cap and headed up to the pasture…
… where I investigated the small mailbox at the top that I had found about a week or two back. I was, again, surprised when pulling the contents out and seeing New City immediately, another proper name involving new like my Newfound Lands this place is right on the border of. Beyond the mailbox: the unknown, the new. Perhaps a kind of city should be built there too. I will return to this mailbox soon for more pics.
Two golf balls down the hill in New Lands beyond the pasture, a pink one followed closely by a white one, a Wilson. I surmised these were hit from the ridge to my west where a row of houses exist, the only residences around. Wilson beyond pink: I interpreted this again to represent blog core avatar Wilson Wheeler, a male, who is better known as Wheeler Wilson, a female and thus represented by pink — my main female character since novel 2 to complement primary male character Baker Bloch. The unknown involves balancing male and female, black and white, to form a fusion, a synthesis, a *flow*. Wheeler here has taken over from earlier Baker Blinker in this aspect, although Baker Bloch vows that Baker Blinker will not be forgotten and that they are still one underneath it all. So another 1/2 and 1/2 situation that blog readers I’m sure tire of hearing about, ha. Okay (don’t do it): *1/2 and 1/2*.
Wheeler supporting herself in the role
A triangle of rocks before Fern Wall, before reaching the Delta, even further before the Mystery Cave, as we’ll still call it. I had the impression that 3 “tribes” meet here to talk of differences and similarities. Some kind of wood entities I’m talking about here. Just up the path from another rock I call Guidance which marks the boundary between known and unknown for most. Not me, though. Not any more. I’ve gotten *that* far.
Deeper into what most still call the Unknown but which I’m dubbing Newfound Lands. That tent on the Delta owned by Erik or Erik’s son, who knows Stan who knows Jim who knows Tom. Interesting colors — blue and yellow. 2 colors which are on a lot of people’s minds these days. And Baker Bloch last night purchased a freebie blue and yellow tent in the game that is Our Second Lyfe, along with a similarly 2 toned balloon and, let’s see, I think I got a Ukrainian sleeping bag as well in the deals. A lot of the world — and the unknown — is about coordination of symbols through space and time. Maybe all of it. Whatever we call him (or her), this Erik *did* camp at the relatively remote Delta and left his tent behind as a marker. I just happen to find it during a conflict between Ukraine and a bullying neighbor, cities and towns left in shambles just like this tent. The Delta represents an obvious center to my Newfound Lands and one I’ll keep going back to for more symbol gathering I’m sure. Most likely.
Mystery Cave now, perched high on a cliff above Delta. To my surprise a bit, there’s an actual opening here that, oh say a man (or woman) just shorter than high grass could amble through without stooping his (or her) head. Just saying. Really, it was a remarkable crevasse — again I’ll come back to it soon with more pics and stories. This little person who went inside the mouth — name was Carter, like our Biff. We have that much.
At Mystery Cave looking down on the Delta. You can see almost its whole triangular surface from this pic, River to left, South Branch at top, and then North Branch just hidden by the downslope in the foreground. Branch (feeding both North and South at western point of the triad) just off picture to the right. Another glorious day in the mtns. by the way, with temps in the lower to mid 60s. Again this is a pretty remote location. Quiet except for the highway about two miles off to the south. I’m so curious about the Delta camper now, but all I have are symbols and signs. No way to know who it actually is, and perhaps that’s the point. Filling in the picture of the unknowable.
And I’ve saved the best for last: more photos of that Monolith thingie just up the hill from the cave. It’s not quite as big as I expected up front and close, but it’s certainly still Monolith-y with its jutting position, rectangular appearance, and thin depth. I still believe it’s, let’s say, “man-made”. More on that soon too.