Tag Archives: Shelley Struthers^^++

November 7, 2021 · 7:07 am

00290704

He’d landed in the right spot. Now to end this.

—–

You’ll have to excuse our friend Square. He hasn’t caught up with the book yet.” He looks over, notes the blonde hair. “I see you’re turning into Jennifer Lane again. Good one. Veyot likes that one.”

I took another sip of of my 4 shot latte and wrote:  “Yes, I further said it was a real place, and *now* — since I spoke to her — (the maturation) means something else. Retirement, the library becoming an increasingly far away and fuzzy edifice after that. I proceed forward with my new life, my new eyes. I will have no need for physical books any longer. I am my *own* book. I am beyond my Firesign Theatre period, having absorbed the Piera (“Billfork” through “Uncle Meatwad”). I am even beyond the positive carrcasses (“Cpt. Mouse” through “Shiny Hare”). I enter something different.”

“Good, good,” he said. “All and well.” He becomes Square and makes another collage.

“These…overlaps,” he says, now studying, now reading the physical book again while turned away, “are becoming interesting. Comings and goings. Dr. Mouse arrives at the same time he departs.” He turns the page. 5 seconds later: “And *Zach and Lena*. Aren’t they a couple already?”

I check his pronouncement with my already changed eyes. “Yes. Too much information,” I decided. “We must end and then begin again. Clean the slate.”

He switches sides of the couch again. “Downstairs first,” forward looking Circle requests. “We must speak with a few more people in this one.”

(to be continued)

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November 4, 2021 · 4:37 pm

Stan Gunderson

He came in on a tulip plane from Maebaleia (continent), vowing never to return. “Black and white tv’s,” he complained to the airline reservation agent whose name he didn’t catch and then regretted it later. Raspberry colored, she was, at least in dress — complete with seeds, ha. An idea is planted. A secret revealed. “Greyscale, even — that’s the name of the *leader* for Christs sake.” He’d received a free ticket to the capital city of the South from his cousin Vinnie. He should call him — right here and now at the airport — give him a piece of his mind about the recommended vacation spot. No *wonder* the lout gave up his ticket, he thought. Nothing there but chickens. And worse!

Only much later would he learn that Maebaleia is the same as Satori, and that he’d neglected to visit the much nicer North in his travel. Vinnie provided him with another free ticket — even went with him this time to make sure he didn’t stray too far south. They stood on the edge of the Guy Linden owned Gangkhar Rabbit Hole and marveled at its unicorn nature. Once there were two such things, on either side of X-City, King city of the north. For the king had risen again to compliment his southern queen. The black menace with two protruding round ears still hung in the sky but they’d learned to make peace with it by eliminating capitalism. Communism or at least Marxism has its advantages.

“Mae Baleia. My name is Mae,” she said more distinctly through her thick (Russian?) accent when he returned this time. *That’s* where the confusion all started. This gall darn agent (!).

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November 4, 2021 · 9:58 am

treatise

She wasn’t f-ing around any more. She owned the Dixie Belle gambling boat and all the characters that had passed through this here photo-novel, 29 in a series… Just: 29 in a series. She had complete control, *not* Alysha. Alysha was left back on Maebaleia — I’m not sure why but there you go. Now we have blonde Lichen Roosevelt. And, with her, dark haired Fern Stalin. And then the 3rd, but not red headed Alysha (or Wendy). Fern originally thought it would be similarly red Indian Wells, 1/2 brother to Rose Wells and the one she was studying for the Crabwoo Revitalization Project or Blue Feather Reinvestment Initiative or whatever the f- they’re calling it these days. Buster brought in Duncan to protect, then changed his mind and assigned White Mage to the case, but has, again, changed his mind because of Dixie (Belle). Duncan indeed does have karma involved. He pulls out a fish taco to eat on a break from acting. It almost reaches his mouth before he remembers the boy. George! I left him back in VHC City to fend for his own! He must be, jeez, 17 now? Maybe 18. I believe his birthday is Tuesday (of last week’s month). Oh (relief!). He now remembers he left the boy with his Aunt Clare, his *sister*. They didn’t have the same mother but it was close enough. Last time he spoke to him George was having more dreams about Yelloo. That’s where we should head next (Fern directs — former director Percy Pierce assigned to another “film”). The border between granite and snow. The ultimate division between Tennessee interior and Kentucky exterior. Like Static…

—–

“I see,” she muttered after turning page 15 and starting to read 16. “Cowabunga *is* a misdirection, interesting.” 5 seconds later she turns another page.

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October 30, 2021 · 9:24 am

Paperr

“Sisters?” she contemplated the question posed by Shelley or Jennifer Lane beside her. “I suppose we have to be in a way.”

“Like Oz? You know, ‘Wicked’?”

“The play?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know the plot. Anyhow, I’m sorry I manipulated your husband into putting all those magazines around your house. We had to have a boy; that was the whole point. I’m sure you see the point now.”

“Julius,” she exclaims, staring up into the grey sky. “First born. I didn’t have a say.” *No*, she wouldn’t get over it just like that, just because she knows the reason. She was manipulated! By this… *witch* (!).

“What about Julia?” Shelley wanted to ask why *that* was allowed, at least later. Then she remembers earlier talk about astrology and the position of the Sun, Moon and Earth relative to each other. Each in its own season. The Moon and Earth had already been equated or something, the black clad, blue haired one said beside her — made the same. All they had to do now was cut the Sun down to size. Sun becomes son. Julius, cooled down by the milk and only the milk. They had to feed it through the navel day and night. It was laborsome. She may never get over being tired.

“‘Julia’ was perfect or almost so. The son, obviously: not so much, at least on the surface. But just underneath the exterior…”

“Self editing,” Shelley/Jennifer said as her lines demanded it at the time. “So what now? Is Bart(holomew) just going to wash up on the beach here, waiting for rebirth?”

“You don’t understand,” she said, looking forward beyond the cooler of Budweisers. “Julius and Julia are the same.”

“You better get back to Liz. *I* better get back to Axis-Windmill.”

She stared up. “How’s he holding up?”

“You know, it’s tough. Staring into the mirror and realizing who you are.”

“Right.” The sky lighted up and she looked away.

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October 30, 2021 · 8:26 am

00290605

I asked her when it would end, all these transformations.

“It will never end,” she states plainly back, finality in her voice (obviously).

—–

We were in the shack seen in back of that photo up above, Liz and me I suppose. The Loch Ness Monster could still be seen lurking in the distance. We were in a make-believe land, but not Hana Lei. A plainly stated one: Paper-Soap. I wondered what spirit Liz represented, since we are really all alive and dead at once, at least according to [delete name]. I’m starting to remember dreams a little better. It doesn’t seem that hard, and will have a chance to work on it more in 1 1/8 years. But I shouldn’t wait I can hear [delete name] say. We turn into Jennifer Lane…

“Bad juju over at the beach,” Fook Mi chef Kim Lee explained. “Bodies not washing up properly; turning black too soon; Suds and Bubbles can’t get to them in time.” Jennifer wondered how the word “black” here would affect Liz. She decides not to further this albeit interesting conversation in front of her.

The monster seems to stare back at her. Cherry branches sprout from her frizzy hair. She understands collage a lot better than us. We decide we’ll keep her around (for awhile). Caretaker for the moment Jennifer brings sushi from the bar.

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October 23, 2021 · 7:15 am

job change every 3000 miles

“Fill er up, Burt.”

“You!” I exclaimed beside my old Papa.

Marion Star Harding stared into me while still strolling toward us, taking his time. I knew I shouldn’t say his real name. I’m remembering!

“You know this Bozo?” Papa also stared over at me, but with puzzlement instead of secret knowledge.

“No.” I looked between the two. “No, I was mistaken. I thought this was the man–”

Marion stares again. She’d said enough. She stopped.

“Thought this was the man what?” Keith asked, still with furrowed brow.

“I thought… this was the man who offered to drive me to your place,” she decided to allow. “Before you picked me up.”

“Burt?” uttered Keith B. “A *pilot*.” He started to laugh. Jennifer join in with him a bit — nervously. Then Marion Star Harding: just a chuckle and a smile. Because Keith B. would only expect that from the silent type guy.

“Whadda ya say to *that*, Burt?” he said between guffaws. He turns to Jennifer. “I’ve known Burt since he was a little boy. He can’t tell right from left, heck, up from down. Right Burt?” Laughter again all around, Keith B. the most, then Jennifer, then Marion. “He… he he… he once tried to build a submarine on top of a mountain and fly it into space (giggle). You remember that old wooden sub, Burt? (grin).”

Marion Star Harding remembered the sub. And indeed, he got it to fly into space, deep into space. But only at night when no one was looking and the stars were out. Because he had a particular Star in mind. His own.

(to be continued)

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October 23, 2021 · 6:14 am

Hookton Hill

Lengthening their draw distance a bit as Keith B. recommended, they both stared out at Clarksey from this low granite summit to the north.

“It’s big, Shelley.”

“Jennifer,” she corrected.

“It’s big, Jennifer,” he began again, then backtracked a bit to “…biggish”. “Ambitious,” he started once more.

“I get the picture.”

“It’ll get more people.”

“Hmm,” she declared. “How many now?”

“Five, I think. Wait: four. Clovis fell into the gorge the other day. Decided it was too dangerous to stay what with his drinking problem. Flew away from Enceladus day before yesterday. You just missed him over there, then.”

“Nice people over there,” she replied. “This one guy, Marion Harding, a Cowboy, even offered to drive me over here from the airport.”

“Who was the pilot?”

She wanted to say Indian but she knew that wasn’t possible. Indian was her brother — 1/2 brother — from another mother. Like Rose — full siblings those two were. “Can’t remember,” she decided to utter, trying to mask the hesitation. Memory gap! ‘Nother one.

“Did anyone follow you?” Strange question from her old Papa. But there *was* someone, someone black. Check that: someone named Black. A, um, black man. Doubly black.

“No,” she issued. “No one. Strange question from you actually.” She took drama in high school. She could still act a bit if necessary. But she’s remembering (!). A trio of men: Cowboy, Indian, Black. And behind them: still fuzzy. Maybe someone named… Frank?

(to be continued)

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October 22, 2021 · 2:45 pm

Clarksey

“I was stuck,” Keith B. tried to explain about The Room. “I was caught.”

“Yeah, by *me*.” The cube is the sphere is the sea is the whale. The flip style notepad and push style lead pencil remained unsheathed this time but Jenny knew. Jennifer now. The Mann emerged from a plastic cocoon. It was in all the books, a running motif. Keith B. was stuck in more ways than one. 29 now, beginning HERE.

“It’s just what The Mann does. When the Wo-mann is away. Look at Marion Star Harding, still dreaming of dead Heidi in his own way. When the (new) director does her shoots up at Cass City.”

Jennifer looks around, still confused about the location. This could be Cass City, this could be Pipersville… or Storybrook. But instead: Whiskey plus Clarksburg, Whisclarkseyburg, then (maybe). Whiskey *inside* Clarksburg. She was stuck!

She stopped looking around, spacing out. “What… is the name of this place..?” Should she call him Daddy, Papa, Keith B.? She decided the last.

Keith B. didn’t look around. He knew where he was. And it didn’t work. He’d been uncovered, as if from a secret space.

Former private detective Wendell “Biff” Carter, back on the beat, stopped redding the read book and looked over. That was her all right, he surmised, seeing the eyes. Mrs. Know-It-All.

(to be continued)

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October 22, 2021 · 7:35 am

3rd Hook

Whiskey… he said to meet him in a place called Whiskey. But I searched the sim of Whiskey again and again and: no sight of my father. My papa! I haven’t seen him… since that day. In The Room.

I went across the icy bridge into the next sim called Clarksburg, to the north. Not as icy once I got across. Snow had receded. Bridge across a great chasm of whitened granite. The place stank of coal or some other fossil fuel. Maybe just gas — I had eaten too much on the plane over. Landed at Hookton Enceladus several sims north west, which would be my introduction to the Snowlands. I wasn’t stuck here yet, but I was close. Just over this bridge: Whiskey into Clarksburg now.

Back in Enceladus (after the flight):

“So touching that that little girl might be meeting her father for the first time since childhood, Cowboy.”

“Stop calling me that… Indian. But: yeah.”

“Zach,” said the third one around the small table. “Call me Zach. Or Black. Whichever.” He was very excited. He thinks he’s found a studio for his beloved Lena, maybe allowing him to keep her forever as his own.

—–

Ahh. Whiskey! (stuck!)

Now to go inside (*shiver*).

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October 21, 2021 · 7:48 am

akin to Pandora’s

I was always the smartest girl in school. I was always first to raise my hand to answer questions from the teacher. But my *brother*… we didn’t know until much later his special special talent. He *couldn’t* be edited. Let me state that again: He *couldn’t*… be *edited*. No wonder he got frustrated by his 2 dimensional family, including me (me!). He was 3d all along, working on a higher plane than us. A *channeled* plane, true, but still: highly psychic, more than the rest of us. I had to step out of myself and turn into Jennifer Lane to understand better. Before, I was Jenny Lane, a kid at Forest Hill School for psychic children. Jacob I. was there a bit later — he went over to Hillside on the other hill side of town for his elementary years. Now I was grown up; all weedy. But I didn’t smoke pot to get high. Grown up — but I felt my apples were too small. I wanted to exchange them with another’s. Harrison Ford Jett seemed a perfect (imaginary) candidate. I was always a Star Wars fan growing up, not even learning about Star Trek until the 11th grade, almost done in school. My classmates called me Spock but I thought that was because of my glasses, before I got my (umbrella) contact lenses and could read with my eyes. The library remained a far away and fuzzy edifice after that, shrouded in distance producing mists by then. I proceeded forward with my new life with Tommy beyond academia. Family became priority.

A child is born, a child is given. Julius, although I wanted a Julia. Sex happens. Then the second: a mini-me of sorts. I projected into her. When I got my new eyes (in effect) I realized we were the same deep down, where it counts (166). We made a pact: she *became* me and I became her. Then we hid this fact to others in a carefully placed box. Where was this box? (Borneo) We had both forgotten where we hid it. (Borneo) And the umbrella design has a story of its own as well.

*Ding dong.*

Oh dear, that will be the neighbors, the Wells. Rosie or Rose, my sister from another mother, as we say, then Indian — love of my life until I met Tommy over at a tailgate party. Tommy Tailgate he was after that. I became pregnant that night.


turning into Jennifer Lane

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