Tag Archives: The Musician

beginning

—–

“Well, okay we’re still waiting for Hucka Doobie to show up. Let’s just read some of Baker Bloch’s — Baker *B*’s writing at the time.” Wheeler Wilson starts reading from the screen. “‘Continue to view Pumpkin Twisters at least once a day, usually twice a day.’ — this was before you adopted the compound word title, hmm –.”

“I guess so,” Baker Bloch replies from across The Table. “My user, you mean.”

“‘Very addictive,'” she continues quoting, “‘but this is the pattern for all my synchs. After a week or three, I’ll get tired of this constant viewing and move on to another project. But right now I’m still dominated by PT’. Um… ‘Keep thinking about how I can continue to further the field, new movies to try, new albums, new techniques and tricks of tiling a synch, theorizing about the process of tiling itself and expansion into other hypothetical synchy arts.’ So that’s the beginning, Baker… guys. Should I just spot-read more ‘Pumpkintwisters’ related stuff in ‘Apple’, Baker?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s see, then just down the page: ‘The only synch where 2 movies, not 1, is used, is Pumpkin Twisters, definitely a unique quality for it. This actually also occurs in Kansas City Life, a direct predecessor of sorts for PT, but I consider this earlier synch to be a more minor work than all others listed here.'” She looks over at Baker Bloch. “Do you want to explain ‘Kansas City Life’ to the group, then?”

“Not really… go on…”

“Okay.” Wheeler Wilson scrolls down. “Lot’s of stuff about *other* synchs here…” She continues to scroll. “All right: ‘I’ve talked quite a bit about the structure of my finds so far, but one could go much further in this. I’ve only talked about it in terms of tiles and tiling. It would be interesting, for example, to study the perceived *centers* of synchs. For Pumpkin Twisters, to give an example, the obvious center is the selection from the secondary movie 200 Motels, overlapped with 2 tracks from the Kinks’ Preservation Act 2, and this is also the place where the synch is most obviously [quote unquote] “synchy”, or, in other words, there is an obvious match or synchronization going on here. The center of Billfork is the ark scenes and the aforementioned — in the last post — heavy *video* editing in this center…'” Here Wheeler Wilson stops and turns away from the media feed. “Ahh, I think we’ve read enough of your old writing, Baker Bloch. Time for the new. Are you ready Tin S. Man?” She takes her customary seat at The Table.

“Ready, Wheeler Wilson,” the gentle giant replies. He has become his much larger self since returning to Collagesity from Gaeta V. Glad he was about leaving that bland land. But Wheeler insisted mistress Tronesisia had to remain behind. Soon enough they would reunite, he knew. Very soon.

“We’ll give Hucka Doobie about 5 minutes more, then.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Comfrey, Gaeta V, Heterocera, Rubi

can’t wait

The Musician was carefully cleaning his new cyborg body parts in the glimmering cave pool when Wheeler sprinted into the room. “No time for that, punk, we’ve been found out!”

But he didn’t immediately jump into action. “What are you on about *now*?” he asked while continuing to wash his left arm. In truth, he was still pissed at Wheeler for not appreciating Jimmy’s solution to the stigmata problem. True, it was kind of trading one set of stigmata for another. But at least he wouldn’t keep waking up in a blood soaked bed.

Speaking of which: “Pull out our beds!” the now stationary Wheeler called from the bank. “The ones sent by Jacob. Hurry!”

The Musician kept cool and switched cybernetic arms to bathe.  “Jacob? I’m not sure… oh, right, the *collage*. The one with the two beds. Well… he said he’d give it to us but was still searching for the base image, the one with no beds. He warned us not to use the current one, just to study it. Is that the beds you’re talking about, Wheeler?”

“You know they are,” she huffed, folding her arms and impatiently stamping her left foot on the cave floor. “And its in *your* inventory. He gave it to you and not me for some reason.” She anxiously looked toward the room entrace from whence she came. “I think I hear footsteps. Jimmy.”

“Jimmy?” queried The Musician, now washing between his real fingers. “What’s he got to do with all this?”

“Again… *no time.* Pull out the picture. I *demand* it.”

“I’m not going to do that, Wheeler. Jacob said to wait.”

Wheeler huffed some more and looked again toward the cave passage leading to this room. “Oooh, *please* Musician. I’m *sorry* I didn’t like your new, metallic limbs and belly. I’m *sorry* I didn’t appreciate the teeth. New things take time,” She glanced again at the room entrance for emphasis. “Which we have *little of*.”

“Alright,” The Musician finally acquiesced, moving toward her through the shallow water. “Good thing all these new workings are titanium and not steel. We’d be here an additional 15 minutes with me drying!”

As soon as he reached the bank, Wheeler clasped his hand and started running again. While being dragged along to the end of their vacation, in effect, he looked through his inventory and found the collage.

“We’re here, Musician,” Wheeler said, catching her breath again at the doorway to the last room. The final cave room. “Now… *rezz the beds*.”

 

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Brilliant Twin

The Musician couldn’t help himself at breakfast. He had to show off his new cybernetic arms and torso to The Millers. Artist Harriet Miller was completely taken by the shirtless subject, and insisted he pose as a model for her newest work. Wheeler Wilson reluctantly tagged along to Harriet’s creative getaway tucked in the small woods, along with her husband Willard, an insurance salesman at Barnum and Bailey’s.

Wheeler was thinking: Willard looks *so* familiar.

On a window ledge of the cabin, Dirty, Frosty, and Bluebell wonder what they’re gandering at with the part machine Musician.

The Millers having returned to their primary lodgings, we catch up with Wheeler and The Musician partaking of after-breakfast treats at a nearby frozen pond. He was explaining more about the procedure.

“Same thing happened to Philip. No problems in 10 years. He just keeps his shirt on, like you’ve suggested to me about 10 times now… keeps the eyeglasses on so the vision will always remain slotted — no problem there again, really — and then keeps his mouth shut as much as possible. Because without the teeth, the deal is not sealed. The great 3-n-1.”

He forcefully smiles for Wheeler Wilson again. More metal. More jagged.

I’m going to kill Jimmy the next time I see him, she thinks.

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Shirtless in Comfrey

Grace Zebriskia gasped when seeing The Musician pass earlier this morning on his way over to Wheeler Wilson’s Japanese house.

“Good morning, Grace.”

“Good *morning*, Mr. Musician. How… how are you?”

“Fine Grace, fine. Never mind all this. I’m fine. Have a good day.”

“You too sir!”

—-

Deep in meditative thought, Jimmy’s bunkmate Rey Wisa did not turn in his seat to look, but only echoed a vacant hello to The Musician’s passing hello. He knew what had happened.

—–

He stops in front of Grace’s twin cousin Jowday and asks if Wheeler is up yet. “Yes sir,” she replied, markedly not as surprised with The Musician’s appearance as her virtual doppleganger. He briefly wonders why before moving on.

—–

“Musician! What have you done to yourself?!”

“I got rid of the stigmata, Wheeler. Jimmy fixed me up. Said he did the same thing for his astronomer friend Philip back in Australia.”

“Can you *undo* it?” she asked with mouth still dropped.

He paused, disappointed in her reaction. Then: “I think not.”

“Well throw a shirt on all that at least, for Christ’s sake. The Millers are waiting for us in the gazebo.”

—–

The Musician then rummaged through his inventory for a suitable breakfast shirt. Not too punk but not too tame. And, obviously, with long sleeves.

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thorny situation

The Musician as Sikul Himakt was having that dream about roses again. Scene: VHC City; The Diagonal.

He sits in front of a video game featuring the Rising Sun with an odd retro cartoon punk who speaks Japanese.

In the dream he understands him. “There’s no side to choose,” he says as the game remains unplayed. Tiny Hermania looks down from the center of her rose tinted world, protesting the idea. “Choose!” she calls while hanging from a vine.

He grasps the red joystick opposite the green one. Pain! They were at the island tree, then. The Musician once again shows the cartoon punk the wound on his outturned hand.

The other hand he keeps to himself.

“I will remove the thorn and make this one better too,” he says, still speaking somehow understandable Japanese. The Musician starts to wake up. “I will make this better.”

—–

He stares up at Chroma Jimmy, who is wrapping his left hand. The right one has already been bandaged. He sits on the Asian couch at their lodgings. Jimmy chatters while continuing his twirlings. “As I said, I’m a physicist not a physician. But I worked with a man at the Australian Astronomical Observatory who studied stellar anomalies in the Southern Cross for years. Same thing happened to his hands, and also his side. Stigmata it’s called. Identification with the crucified Christ.” The Musician was about to protest that he wasn’t religious when Jimmy guessed the confusion. “Doesn’t matter about your faith. Something else is behind it. Philip wasn’t religious either, but he was a fanatic. Of science. Perhaps that’s all it takes. And… there, that should do it. The bleeding doesn’t seem to be stopping but it’s slowed down. Maybe that’s all we can ask of this condition, if yours tracks with Philip’s.”

“And stay away from that blasted island!” added Wheeler forcefully behind him.

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What is it?

“I simply don’t remember this, um, display Musician.”

“It was here, Wheeler. It’s the same cave, after all.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“It’s the same,” exclaims The Musician again while now clinging to a thorny rose vine.

“It’s the same.”

Around the corner, Lou and Osborne Well titter.

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stories

“See Musician? I told you I’d send for you.

“Just had to find the right pose.”

“Let’s find another one,” he demanded.

—–

“Not as good, Wheeler Wilson.”

“Shmursguug.”

—–

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here, Wheeler.”

“Shut up and get off my back you heavy lug.”

—–

“Another one with the back, Musician.”

“I think you’re suppose to be the man here, Wheeler.”

“Typical. And you’re getting your pink punk hair in my eye again.”

“A couple more still,” he requests.

—–

“It’s the owl’s head ring, Musician, hehe. Go ahead. You know you wanna.”

“Oh Jesus me,” he croons playfully while still clasping hand to mouth.

—–

“Psst. Don’t look now, Musician,” Wheeler whispered. “But that little red man is back again, ha.”

—–

“I’m pregnant, Wheeler Wilson. And this man who’s been following us around is our future son Sammy.”

“Makes sense.”

But then Jimmy breaks the spell. “Hi. I was wondering if you knew where the bathrooms are around here.”

—–

“I kind of miss Jimmy since he left, Wheeler.”

“Me too.”

“Let’s go find him and invite him to lunch with us.”

“Great idea!”

—–

“This is my favorite one of all.”

“Look, Musician, there’s Jimmy. Over here Jimmy!”

—–

“Trade with me, punk. I want to get to know Jimmy better.”

—–

“Service around here is awful, eh Jimmy?”

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