Tag Archives: Snowmanster^^~~~~#

joint nature

“I don’t get it,” George said, smaller now as 10. “Why make *this* life look so much as that *other* life we don’t want to go to.”

“We want to *escape* from,” corrected Duncan, glad the innocent boy was back. Now he could *gradually* teach him the ways of the world, starting with artistic photography. Middletown, he realized. Must – avoid – Middletown.

“Why?”

“Escape?”

“Yeah.” He looked up at me, squashing an urge to pick his nose. He *is* grown up. He will put aside childish things and move into the world, as if on a train (of destiny).

“Let’s get back to the apartment and I’ll explain there. Before one of us wanders off again and forgets about the other.” They share a smile with this. The man is the boy is the man, round and round. There was an age gap between them but that was just time. Duncan looked down at his shiny Rolex watch. 1/2 past 6. It was always 1/2 past 6. Because the gall darn thing never worked ever since that raccoon got a hold of it after he’d fished it out of the trash back in the back alley. They’d tugged and tugged, one not letting the other have an obviously valuable sparkly object. Duncan won, of course, being 15x stronger than what is essentially an overgrown rodent in his mind. But he paid the price. He remembers it ticking when he got it out of the can. The skirmish must have itself happened at 1/2 past 6. It was as if time was frozen at that point. Zero Point. Fusion of Man and Animal beyond that. Manimal.

—–

The artistic photos just viewed actually lie in the gallery right beneath their apartment. Heavenly Flower it is called, with a silhouette of a woman hold a blooming lily over her heart for a logo. Appropriate.

They’d just finished a dinner of leftover fish tacos and mystery loaf and were talking about the subject left hanging before. Duncan A. had decided to use this as a teaching device.

“You asked about escape before,” said George at a midway point in the conversation, “like we are trapped here.”

“Trapped there as well,” spoke Duncan. A soft stirring started in the CB Dylan dresser in the corner of the room directly over where they’d been before. Snowmanster, they knew. Trying to escape. He was very distant still, thus the softness. They knew he would not be entering their apartment again anytime soon. A shame: both liked and respected the great snow being. He was a lot of fun, a gas. But it would soon be Melting Days at Bennington Square and the stirrings would stop altogether, until about Halloween or at least Thanksgiving at the latest. Then they would gradually die down in March and cease around Arbor Day, which was today. Both had forgotten to plant a tree in honor of his dying memory. Both forget a lot of things. What was that noise in the dresser? both thought at once, memory erased for 5-7 months. Must have been the wind.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0405, Heterocera^^, VHC City^

no grim

“Daaaanger,” Edwin the ghost moaned in warning. But Halloween Jack had to find out what lie ahead. The cold, the *contrast*, irresistibly drew him in.

Jack hesitated just beyond where the drab ground turned white, making his shoes wet.

What are these particles of light falling from the sky? He lets one alight on his skeletal tongue. Delicious! Frozen water, melting in the mouth almost upon touch. The ground is composed of these, he realizes. No melt this time! He tries to watch it build up around a nearby evergreen tree but doesn’t have the patience. So much to see! He marches forward, moistened feet be damned.

What’s this? A fellow sentient being? Made of the same ice?? “Hellooo!”

“Howdy!” the snowman cheerfully replied, indeed alive during the season. “Welcome to Christmas! Or thereabouts,” he tacks on. Jack smiled broadly. Sally is going to *love* it here, he thinks.

Soon they were together listening to Snowmanster play a selection of her favorite holiday tunes.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0103, Hana Lei^^, NE Hills, NWES Island^

Snowmanster

He was dreaming again, hence the tie. “This is a little f-ed up,” he said to the woman nearby, who didn’t reply. No, he didn’t like this place. He had found a limit. Wendy would not be his daughter or something. He’d leave all that to Toothpick and Elberta and their Deep South ways (!). He’d have to talk to Eraserhead Man about this shoot, compare it to DaBob in that other production he worked in, the one less famous. Or was it more famous. Snap out of it, snap out of it! he cried inside while snapping his fingers, which, of course, passed through each other. Tarboo Bay, DaBob, The Twins… they were all together; all in on this. What does it mean? He better get Wendy to safety and out of the shiny light of revealing film while she’s still wearing that dress. He knows a guy who knows a guy in Snowlands who has a remote-ish cabin kind of tucked away in some small woods, getting smaller by the month but Barry DeBoy doesn’t know that in the present. He’d only find out about the deforestation of Purden in the future through a rogue Snowman gone good instead of the usual bad but still with a bad Santa, one called Satan, an obvious anagram (too obvious). The Snowman’s name is… well, let’s just wait. Regular readers of this here blog and derivative photo-novels probably already know the name. Let’s just make it the title of this here post.

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he got glowing reviews in the “Daily Beast”

“We call him Torch but I believe his first name is Glenn. I try to stay a certain distance from the fellow understandably, me being both Snowy and Frosty at once.” He looks over. “Still not talking to me, Old Grey?” He turns back, sighs. “This NWES Island, Old Grey. I don’t think we can ever leave now. Collagesity has been fully assimilated.” He pries his eyes off the hypnotic dancing fireman again, looks at his watch. “Speaking of the City I think I’ll take a walk; getting a little hot in here. Cool off, you know.” He was thinking of a certain seat in town shaded green and blue formerly across the street from a fire station. Just south and east of Diamondfyre, but not far enough to forget how to come home to mother.

—–

“I was born there, in that dresser,” spoke Snowmanster to no one now, not even one who doesn’t listen, doesn’t know. “I became someone that day, way back in photo-novel 3. You were there, Old Grey. Even at the beginning. We talked of, well, we discussed a lot of stuff while walking to Purden and meeting Core-Alena for the first time. You weren’t impressed. I recall you mimicking me through a ‘Star Wars’ character. But now you’re paying the price.” He looks over at Old Grey that isn’t there but he pretends she is anyway, cane still in hand. He notices the ill fitting wig again, the cracked grey skin. Old. Dead, even. Death itself. She was beginning to smell.

Wee person Aloha climbed out of the picture before him and introduced herself by saying goodbye, pheh. Green lantern carrying Fern will have to do.


“Hellooo.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0508, Apple's Orchard, Marwood, NWES Island^

00220507

“I had to move. The houses and structures kept closing in. Soon *I* would become a house, a structure. Time to go on. I searched for a sim, a place for center. Nothing would be as perfect as Purden, the 128 128 128. I had moved before, returned. I knew what it took to be Mobile and the consequences suffered or endured because of it. I changed. Out of the ground and into the air and all was different. I could be either male or female since I was both. I had to retain some green in my form but that was about all. I could even be a car. Right Alena?”

“Right Core,” he spoke out the side of his-her mouth to the other being inside the tree.

“Good thing we both can breath underwater,” returned female Alena from the other side.

“That’s just what I said when I showed up here in Iris!” offered listening Snowmanster, still present at the psychic talking tree in the exact center of The Shallows. 128 128 again, but without the third 128 this time. Not perfection. But it seems to do for the moment.

Floating Old Grey in her bubble piped up for the first time during the visit. “I was killed. Murdered. By…”

“Now now, Old Grey. Don’t try to think too hard. You’re freshly dead after all.” Snowmanster stood back and looked at her, snowy hands on frosty hips in a studying gesture. Core-Alena as one was scrutinizing her as well. She floated, she bobbed and weaved seemingly at random but basically in the same spot.

“Oily way,” the tree being(s) said after an interval. “That’s the phrase I was thinking about back there.”

Time to ponder Gong again and the Flying Teepot.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0507, Heterocera^^, Iris^

zzz www

Later they all ate sushi with oversized toothpicks at Black Diamond’s. Big Wanda with “deflated horns”, as I’ve called her floppy pigtails, was in charge, Spore’s plan in action. Master judo samurai Black Diamond (background) gave Little Oakley Annie the honorable name Green River during a pre-meal tea ceremony and her mama the name Kummer, which was short (he explained) for, “coming mother”. Or so that’s what they thought he meant. We were working with places in Washington again, switched from Illinois switched from Mississippi. Faulkner had no hold here, the Rule of the 100 and the way of fame and fortune conveniently forgotten. Zzz was not about Faulkner, nope. This was the mother, this was the father, but not the son, the fruity one.

Big Wanda spoke. “Little Annie Oakley, *sorry*, Green River, has fallen asleep again, cutting zzz’s instead of being in the moment. Too much fighting in life will do that, drain you of the oh-so-precious life force because you have done so with others.” She turns. “But you’re holding up well, Old Grey. How’s that floating device going?”

“Pretty good,” Old Grey admitted, knowing indeed what is holding her up and propelling her forward. Snowmanster and she will be at the tree again soon. In fact: they’re there.

“Interesting,” Core-Alena says to begin in his-her feminine/masculine voice and staring toward Old Grey’s way.

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zzz again

He finally figured out how to remove the giant acorn of a head. He was relieved to find his own head still within, or perhaps it just grew there, like a seed in a pod, ready to hatch forth at the right moment. He pulled and pulled and pulled and finally it was there. Fully formed, seemingly. But the bikini top and especially bottom with attached tail remained. That was part of the new body apparently, part of the assimilation. 2 Sandy’s in one now. One Piece Sandy again. He had (seemingly?) woken up, but not in a good way.

And to top it all off now,  he had big hands, like the greeter at the door of Bar FF. Odd name; he couldn’t think of what the initials could stand for. Probably something Japanese related, he realized. He couldn’t see the writing on the wall while staring down at monstrous appendages.

Sandy wasn’t alone at the bar. “I believe you know my father,” the 1/2 snow 1/2 sponge being spoke over.

—–

Snowbob’s *mother* Snowmanster exits the closet again, looks around. “Well *this* is different. Underwater, eh. And apparently I can breathe underwater, lucky me. Now to find Old Grey once… oh. There you are!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0501, Hana Lei^^, Heterocera^^, Iris^

lighten up, er, 04?

“I was hoping the picture would help me get a new house.”

“Not if *I* can help it.” Saffie was a rival renter. She wanted the best for her and her family of 5 children, 3 dogs, 2 ferrets, and 1 husband. For now.

Marty checked his watch. “Where *is* he?”

“*She*,” Saffie helped for the moment at least. “Snowmanster is a  *she*, jees. Do you want to get a better house or not, blimey?”

“Blimey?” He stared over. “You’re British?”

“No.” But Saffie turned red here. She knew she’d slipped up. She also looked at her watch, hoping that Snowmanster would show up asap. Before too much was revealed.

“Do you know Liverpool by chance?”

“I don’t eat meat,” she returned dumbly.

“Ahh. A Vegetarian. Then you must know *Linda*.”

“Lisa?” Didn’t work.

“*Yes*. Her too.”

Where was this going? At least we escaped the pitchfork guy, blimey.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0203, Corsica^^, Urqhart^

lighten up 03

Spongebub, through his new, lightened up picture, led me to this crosswalk in front of an apparently secret, or maybe not so secret, Illuminati center. After playing around, logically enough, with Illuminatus the God of Chaos and Destruction crossing the road in front of Annie Lee (hi Annie Lee!), I decided to go with Marty. He moved across this very same road back in photo-novel, um, 20, when I was still based in nearby Urqhart. To a bigger house — didn’t work out. It was simply too ugly for Marty to continue with his role in this location. The Urqhart (or thereabouts) version of Collagesity soon succumbed as well. Tower destroyed. So here’s the walking Marty version of the above picture.

Where’s he going? Is that still beer he’s drinking or has it turned to lemonade (in the meantime)? Is it yellow still? Looks kinda green to me, a green-ish tint anyway. Snowbob must be around. Maybe Snowmanster too.

No, there’s Snowmanster crossing the road instead of Marty. He’s going to visit his son, Snowbob. *Sorry*, *she’s* going to visit *her* son.

“It’s about time we brought her back,” I can hear Spongebub say over in Iris. So let’s turn the camera around a bit, follow Snowmanster inside, and see what we have…

And I think I’ll go with Marty instead of Snowmanster here after all. He may be meeting Harrison Jett instead of the latter meeting… well, let’s just have a look.

Turns out Marty is meeting Snowbob, jees. Wonder what *they’ll* have to talk about? Can we tune in? Maybe we need a translator.

“He SAID, he’s LYKEN it!!”

Must be talking about the picture Marty brought with him, hmm.

“Bring it in my OFFICE!! And we’ll see how it works THERE!!”

Okay, you can stop now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0202, Corsica^^, Urqhart^

lighten up 02

“Let’s go with *this* picture instead, Hindsight, er, Golden.”

“Yes, call me Golden. For now.”

“O-*kay*, Golden (*tee hee*).”

“More light, I agree.” Hindsight/Golden knew the squeaky voiced sponge being was always right. He was worshiped in many galaxies.

Those who didn’t worship him were often left in the dark. Pitchfork territory.

He has a son. I’ll deal with him next. Hindsight/Golden turns here toward the CB Dylan dresser. “And the wife.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0201, Iris^