And now… we come… to Static. It’s always been there, always been a part of us. Question is: how will we rise above it? Do we even need to? Why not dwell in Static forever and ever, become part of the machinery.
Russel here eventually sees Hollywood and the portal opening beneath it and shakes himself out of his stupor to go tell his band mates.
What do YOU see in the Static?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0049, 0505, California
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)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0305, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya+, NVFS
I couldn’t tell whether they were talking about Vermont or New Hampshire from this distance so I had to zoom in.
Still not clear, but from my now floating lips position I did get this was all about a movement away from another state tucked even further into the northeast corner of our great country of the US of A: Maine. You could say that was the main topic of the conversation between Mouse and his greatest creation, another mouse, anthropomorphic in its case, named Pansy. We were in South America’s Amazon far removed from North because he thought he could get away from prying ears here, didn’t suspect me because I was at the resort when he arrived, let’s put it. Hired by the Gaston Berries to keep track of Mouse and his doings. More on them later maybe.
—–
“A sequence of 1 second shots,” shot back the doctor, following up on rules 34 and 35 already cited. They were exchanging ideas rapid fire on the edge of the cement pond shaped like New Hampshire or Vermont, reader’s choice from these angles.
“Yellow,” started Pansy.
“Blue,” replied the doctor.
“Green,” said the anthropomorphic rodent.
“Red!” issued the doctor named for said rodent to close the sequence.
They’d paced the words to be exactly 1 second apart, just like in the video they were referencing. TILE in summary, the ultimate poop product one could say in a vanilla not chocolate way, a different issuance.
Then the golden gloved one emerged from a static filled background at the center to tell the rest of its story.
(to be continued (?))
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0303, Amazon, Jeogeot, Maine, Nawt Vaya+, New Hampshire, NVFS, Vermont
Who is this centerpoint character emerging from a blank black background with golden gloved fist extended? I don’t know but I’m going to try to find out as best I can building upon what limited knowledge of modern pop culture I have. Did I mention I’m getting rather old? Anywho, I know just later she stands before a wall of static and speaks her mind about control, YouTube Poop (YTP) remix style.
She is about authoritarianism and against what she called mindless audio/video manipulation — the “poop” of the genre most popular back in the 2000s and 2010s. But all poop comes from what we consume and that is the corporate controlled media landscape all around us in this example. I don’t think she would fare well in our new metropolis, ha.
(to be continued?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0112
Newtown policepeople Michelle Roundup and Bill Mustardgas also formed a legitimate and formidable team but they were currently investigating the Blue Moon static murders over on the old continent of Our Second Lyfe and thus unavailable.
Nor were Ted and Cruise of the potential When Push Comes to Shovel team, still on the clock down at the motor shop and unable to get off.
Which left the following, assembled in the sewer room underneath the entrance to also absent Alfred’s grocer store (sick with pill), the heart of the matter. Starting back row to the right, we have Norris and Pietmond, 2 gypsies (don’t call them hippies!) who rammed and bammed into town from the South Gate in a most dramatic fashion back at the beginning of this here section, killing a number of Germans but defending their actions by saying they were zombies and not real people. Were they right? Let’s move on down the row and we might see.
Next are Eight and Eighty last seen in the ratskeller beneath town hall, waiting for Alessandra who is the same as a white-clad Wheeler. Wheeler mistakened one of them for town *owner* Rag Doll, but she got her position wrong in town. The owner herself will be arriving shortly to correct all that.
Moving on to the second row from the back — and also the front — we have Osborne Well and, next to him, his daughter Lou, taking the place of Ruby and Bookie who also couldn’t make it for various reasons. Next is Wheeler likewise subbing for Alessandra, but, unlike the others, not directly sitting with her partner, who would be next up in our review front row right: Newt. Then to finish our teams off we have Dimmy and Marilyn M. from the cloth shop scene a couple of posts ago.
Time for dancing around the main subject matter is over. Red clad Shelley and now black clad mate Eddy unclasp themselves from each other and leave the stage. Rag Doll takes control….
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0416, Jeogeot, Newtown+
It was like the old days for Wolvie (=Bert), staring at bamboo from the perfect spot 108 108 108, triply beautiful. Not Shelley any more doing her moves on the bamboo yoga mat but Wheeler, mother having reabsorbed the child in section one of this here current photo-novel, just this morning named for her. He’d seen her again last week at the convenience store he manages over near Juho. She knew that he knew and he knew that she knew. Then: winked out. Gone. Like she was never there. And perhaps she wasn’t (*knew* I was going to add that, didn’t you).
—–
“Wolvie’s gone. VHS tape still in there. Let’s just look at it. I want to know why Blue Moon wants to buy all existing copies so bad. How, aherm, *bad* could it be?”
“Double anal?” guessed Emily who didn’t even know if that was a thing. And I suppose she’d know, since she runs the store. So let’s say she was jesting.
“Could be at least double, as in 3some,” speculated Charlene further. Charlene the Punk. Not seen in these here photo-novels since (as I’m checking… checking…) 31 really, minus a cameo appearance or two. Pre-retirement, then. But we also know that Charlene is actually Fern in the past. Or another timeline — something. The two can be lined up and made as one is what I’m saying. If that, once more, is actually a “thing”.
They both crowded into the tiny viewing room meant for one, setting aside the chair to make space. Plus… well, neither wanted to sit in that chair now.
“It’s just static,” Charlene complained.
“Keep looking,” urged Emily, knowing secondary and then primary letters would form out of the nothingness. Because this was a special tape, very much so. I to E to T to L and done. You get your money’s worth.
“Yes, here they come.”
(to be continued)
“Well. Here we are.” And then he went in.
I’m scared, Bimbo thinks, hesitant to do the same and remaining outside. Do I really want to know how this works? Will I look at Fink Humann in a different way after this, a different light? Maybe it’s best–”
“Are you coming or are you not?” Stanley poking his head back out of the store’s door.
Cooommming, she thought. That’s the problem. That’s not what her type does, she’s found out. Nor his.
—–
But for Blue Moon Kentucky, seen here searching in vain for anything else besides that one solo album a bit earlier in the day as record store owner Charlene the Punk looks on smugly: no problem as it turns out.
And that’s when the whole scene climaxed. At the video store. Special viewing room as the static on the TV turned into something else, something Bimbo had never seen. And never wanted to see again.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0308, Jeogeot, The Burg+
There she f-ing is in the flesh ha, thinks Emily New Moon at her counter beside the static filled TV. She likes to have it on with the sound turned at least low just to help drown out the city noise outside. Sometimes it’s bad out there, sometimes not so much. But she likes to keep it on anyway, just in case.
She rehearses her lines as Blue Moon mills around, trying to seem interested in the other tapes. But she only wants the one, she knew. 49 of 50 she has already. And she’s tracked down the 50th and last to this town, this store most likely, since it’s the only video rental one in this population place merely known as The Burg. Here: Downtown, its seedier side. Up there where it’s quieter most of the time: Uptown, where Emily *wished* she worked. But L.A. won the job at the ice cream vendor over her because she’d presented some papers at some national art conference or another, didn’t matter. *She’s* written things too. Just not published or presented stuff. Blue Moon milling about over there trying to seem distracted will know one day too, she thinks while continuing to observe and mentally rehearse. “‘Blue *Balls* Kentucky’, hmm — interesting — let me see,” and she’ll pretend to type the name into her database, pretend to look at results, pretend that the tape isn’t on the list. Blue Moon’s one and only porno, 50 copies extant. She has 49. But dammit if Emily *New* Moon is going to let her have 50. The blue fades to black right here in this town, this store. She’ll reach a dead end and it’ll nag at her the rest of her short lived days, Emily thinks with some satisfaction. Because she knows it’s worth a gold mine. And she, as it turned out, has cornered the market, ha ha ha. He he. Ho.
Here she comes. Steel yourself, Emily! You’ll be as famous as her soon, maybe even bigger than her — no need to be daunted. New Moon rising.
“I-I’d like to inquire about a tape,” she begins rather timidly. Like she doesn’t belong there. And she doesn’t, thinks Emily. Neither of us.
“Name?” she say as matter-of-factly as possible given the moment.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0306, Jeogeot, The Burg+
Just over here, V. Behind these Tiler shacks.
—–
“So this is how it is?”
“What did you expect? A tombstone? Flag and flowers?”
“I don’t know. Something. Anything.”
“You blew up Arastraville Tower. You killed a lot of people, Jonny. And where did it get you in the end? The corps and their suits for men are still in control.”
“I know I know.” He pauses. “I was a musician too besides being a terrorist,” he tried.
“One overrides the other?” I asked as a question. Because I was curious how Jonny was going to balance the two. History would view the music as largely about terrorism, not visa versa. Music should ultimately be uplifting, not constantly tearing down our lives, deconstructing them. Something like Blue Moon and her UK Cracks have merit just by that virtue alone. I told Jonny this.
“Are you saying I should have listened more to those bubblegum bitches?”
“Maybe. Cary listened. He liked them. Until… well, you know.”
Both thought of the death of Blue Moon and possibly Redd the Menace too.
“Maybe it should have been me at the bottom of that damn dam instead of Kentucky. Maybe history would have viewed me more in a positive light.”
“That’s static in that direction, Jonny. You’re not Blue Moon, you’re not bubblegum pop. You’re hard edged rock ‘n roll, always have been, always will. You can’t change who you are inside, the core.”
“Can’t you?” Exhale; another pause. “You know I thought about being an artist, V. A painter instead of an axer. Pretty good too. Won some awards as a child prodigy.”
I checked my watch, thought about the growing length of this section. “Yeah, really don’t have time to explore alternate realities right now, Jonny. The musician/terrorist polarity is complicated enough. Any last words? Over your grave, I mean.”
“Just carve the initials and let’s get out of here.”
“Done, and…
“Done.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0616, Badlands, C2077
Fern realized something else while staring at this suspiciously plywood colored picture more in the center of the room but didn’t say it aloud.
She waited for this until she and Lichen met up for their typical evening walk within the innards of Castle Town not seen in a photo since section 01 of this here novel.
“She loves her,” Fern said to her companion at their standard starting point in the Yalta Bar and Grill, sharing a beer before they begin. “Romantic that she is I guess it couldn’t be helped. She holds the key to my heart is the message. Right up there on the wall separating her from Shelley. Again. It was as if…”
“… she were peeking inside,” guessed Lichen.
“Good, right. Now all we have to do is finish connecting the 152 dots in the puzzle. Up to 76 I believe.” Seventy-six, Fern discerns once more. Kentucky! Alpha, Wait, Stop-gap, Hidalgo, Static, Snow, *Wendy*.
“Well. I guess that goes along with being a Pisces, water sign and all,” continued Lichen about Lexi. “Her home town — drowned when she was young.”
“Submerged yes.” And Fern then understood where they had to go next. Snorkeling in Flathead Lake, divided between the counties of Flathead and Lake of all things. And Polson the largest city along the shoreline. Another indicator. This was to be made into an Art Event.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0514, Badlands, C2077, Castle Town+, Heterocera, Kabusie, Kentucky, Montana, Omega, VHC City
Sunklands 