Tag Archives: Wheeler Wilson^^+++\@

May 1, 2026 · 1:04 pm

00500206 (STOP/GO)

—–

Only when planetary traveler Gemilly Niceniece looked at the video afterwards did she see the A on the rock directly below her right where she decided to stop and pan around…

… which seemingly turned into a P on the other side of it. “AP!” I called aloud when seeing the transformation from my own angle, remembering the joined letters from the day before. “What was it? The Annie Oakley case?”

“Orkley Andy,” spoke someone to the side listening in, probably W aka Wheeler, the female half of our duality with a better memory, we can imagine. “Biff Carter’s case,” she clarified more for the reader than the writer. “But connected to Oakley… Annie. Together, they make–”

“–a complete A-Z time loop,” I completed, so excited I was that I forgot who was speaking in the moment. Freed up, W/Wheeler started checking her phone. Then:

“38-AP to be precise it says here, with, hmm, 37-QZ being the Oakley Annie one… *before it*. Names reversed, letters reversed. Let’s see — caused Biff to become prematurely retired and then quickly retired again when he tried to make a comeback.”

“In-ter-est-ing.”

https://bakerbloch.com/2022/03/16/00320206/

And exactly between 00320206 and 005002006 here, we found out just later, is 00410206, where we find Biff yet again. Titled “(Biff)” even.

https://bakerbloch.com/2023/11/28/00410206/

Passengers finally unload at Bellisaria’s Shobu station at the end of the straight as an arrow tracks in the shadow of towering Mt. Sakuru, let’s keep calling it. Father Fecked’s cane appears first out of the train, calm now after all that shaking from the last 7-10 minutes was over. Should’ve pinpointed this all important location before, but better late than never I suppose. The SYSTEM speaks, I understand. Egging me forward. Just like before; just like always. TBC(!)

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April 4, 2026 · 7:02 am

00500108

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Concrete,_Washington

The town of Concrete has undergone several incarnations, the earliest being a settlement at the northwestern junction of the Baker and Skagit Rivers, known as “Minnehaha.” Amasa “Peg-Leg” Everett was one of the earliest settlers and in 1890, the townsite was platted by another settler, Magnus Miller. Shortly thereafter, a post office was established and the town name changed to “Baker.” In 1905, a settlement across the Baker River came into being due to the building of the Washington Portland Cement Company and was named “Cement City.” After the Superior Portland Cement Company plant was built in Baker in 1908, it was decided to merge the two towns. Inhabitants of the new community settled on the name “Concrete” and the town was so christened and officially incorporated on May 8, 1909.

“And so that’s how the name Cement was applied to the village. Along, ahem, with the whole cement texture thing. Cement Village founded by me, Baker B. Creating concrete reality, concrete truth on these western shores of the Nawt Vaya Sea that will last for centuries years.”

No one was buying what Baker — Bloch here instead of Blinker, the female half, the “Other Baker” — was saying about the name, not screen watching Hucka Doobie, not Wheeler Wilson, not fellow Mr. Moon t-shirt wearing Newt or any of the other (unpictured) core avatars sitting around this round table in the lower part of Frank’s castle. This was pure accident plain and simple. *Synchronicity*. The concrete part only applied to bigfoot…

… truly roaming the bordering Nawt Vaya Sea much like the similarly fantastical seeming Alcoholic Sea Monster that recently swallowed Daisy’s Hole in the Wall bar because of the spanking new batch of delicious, home-made brew inside. Taste over buzz: just what Daisy was aiming for. But not in this way, not in this manner. She had to start over from scratch.

Continuing…

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March 19, 2026 · 10:23 pm

00490613

Leftover maps, Arkansas and Kentucky.

Arkansas first — Pope County.

Relevant names so far: Solo, Gabriel, Russellville, Pottsville, Scottsville, Alpha

Relevant info: Solo + Gabriel as in Peter Gabriel’s solo career where he escapes Lamb (Genesis’ towering achievement “The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” double concept album) via, originally, the single “Solsbury Hill”. Pottsville as in Gorillaz’s 2-D whose last name is Pot without the extra T, Scottsville reinforcing Pottsville by being directly north of it. Russellville as in Gorillaz’s Russel without the extra L. Alpha down at the bottom already paired with just off the map Omega in this here photo-novel to represent core avatar Wheeler who was created last but has become the first in importance, the heart of the process.

Kentucky next — Hopkins County. A direct continuation.

Relevant names this time: Silentrun, Mortons Gap, Anson, Ansonia, Hanson.

Relevant info this time: Silentrun Ck. is alternately named Lambs Ck., as in Gorillaz’s “Silent Running” video with 2-D wearing a Lamb t-shirt and being sacrificed as such by the Forever Cult to their underground Lord of Darkness. This is Gabriel who didn’t escape Lamb and remained with the Genesis band. Mortons Gap as in the location of one of Barry De Boy’s “Does This Look Square to You?” series of collages seen in section 05 I believe. A stand-in for my last personal collage ever, perhaps, also directly related to Genesis (using “Foxtrot” album cover coming a bit before “Lamb”). Ansonia as in Charles Anson, similar to Gorillaz’s Manson and likewise a hater of the band he use to work for and trying to prevent them from forming in the first place through some kind of time machine, with similar names Anton and Hanson nearby to reinforce the association.

Getting that out of the way we can continue…

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March 19, 2026 · 8:10 am

00490611

Well I hope Spiff’s happy tutoring whoever he’s tutoring, thinks Arthur “Orient” Morgan, standing in front of an open fridge. Because I’m *roasting* in here.

“Order *up*,” calls Wheeler from the window, ticket in hand. “And *shut* that door, why don’t you. Do you think I’m made of money??”

“I don’t know *what* you’re made of, lady.” He dabbed more sweat off his face.

“Triangles,” she says. “Triangle and hexagons.” She laughs.

“Okay, good enough,” he says nonplussed, looking at the tattoo stamped on her forehead and wondering again if it stood for DEMO, all the letters exposed, or DEMON, with an N secretly hidden behind the flip style hair. He’d yet to have the chance to flip it back and see. Snapshots, all he has is snapshots so far. Missouri. Because, yes, he fancied her. He probably didn’t have a choice, given his name was Arthur with a middle name of Orient. He was starting to believe Wheeler’s cockamamie story about them being married in a previous life or something, parallel life she says instead sometimes. The attraction is real. Married and then buried and then… married again? Could it be? First he had to serve out this stupid sentence, work in this hot ass kitchen for 2 weeks until he made up the difference between North and South (painting). Then and only then he’d find out the truth.

“I don’t care about mainstream trends in Their Second Lyfe,” she said another time about her non-mesh status. “I am who I am, born full blown from the head of Baker Blinker. Notice the bit of pink in the skin tone — that’s her. And then I stole some other things,” she admitted. “It’s all lighting and trickery anyway, everything is. Real Life or Second. This extends to all virtual realities.” I didn’t see much pink in her skin tone, Arthur thinks, but maybe that’ll be part of the hidden that’s exposed too.

I stare into her eyes from beyond the 4th wall, wondering if there’s actually a soul in there besides my own. Baker Blinker, Baker Bloch, Hucka Doobie, Karoz Blogger — all me. But Wilson — Wilsonia. *Could* be different. Not yet, though. Not in the present. Presents *and* absence so far. Just like Xmas. TBC

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March 6, 2026 · 3:13 pm

00490511 (cleansed 02)

Stop, smell the roses.

Good, isn’t it?

But the smell of the hotel beneath it wouldn’t go away. The loop still exists: Violet Hope, the 1923 vampire who lived at least 100 more years. Can Can Girl, with a second head now emerging from the first thanks to the magic of instant collage, no mirroring required. Barry de Boy decides to created his “Does This Look Square to You?” series because of its reduced 814 x 814 pixel dimensions, becoming the second entry of the bunch which started with this…

… and currently finishes up with this, its third and perhaps the last personal collage, period, a good place to terminate the overall process (?):

1-2-3, with 24 x 24 miles square Newton County MS and 13 x 13 multi-colored square The Atom also in the mix somewhere, at least behind the scenes. Back to the hotel…

“I’m finished, Hucka! You can come in now!” Wait!! Why did I say that?? I’m disgusting!!!

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February 27, 2026 · 3:11 pm

00490503 (slave)

After seeing the changed picture through the door’s window, she eyes the files again to her left. “Tell you what, brother in arms of mine. I’ll throw in all these top secret folders in this big box to sweeten the deal. All I ask from you in return is…”

“And so that’s how I got here. Replaced a fellow named Spiff; (she) said he had more important things to do in town. Tutoring was mentioned. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a batch of hash browns, 4 pancakes, and 3 eggs 1 easy over and the other 2 scrambled to cook. And that’s just in the next 2 minutes or so…”

“Snapshots,” I said, remembering that element. “What about the snapshots?” 2 cracked eggs and 2 batter pours later: “I don’t know what you’re talking about now.”

But from the tone of his voice I knew he did. You can read a lot into Arthur “Orient” Morgan I’ve found out. He wears his emotions on his now greasy sleeve. I walk away, satisfied I’d learned enough for this morning. Back in the evening for more food for both body and mind. Maybe bring Chet along too. TBC

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February 15, 2026 · 8:29 am

00490404

“Who are you, woman? Really.”

“I told you, Arthur ‘Orient’ Morgan. I’m Wheeler. And this is my place. Wheeler Wilson. Hence: Wilson’s.”

“Convenient, I say,” said Arthur back to her, smelling a rat the size of a town.

“Well… you tell *me* who you think I am?”

Demon, sprung forth in Arthur’s mind automatically, staring at her forehead and the placement of her flip style hair upon it. He said the word aloud.

“True enough,” she admitted. “All women are evil to a certain kind of man.” She let that hang in the air. Arthur stared at her.

“I’m a killer,” he declared about the core of himself. “I kill for hire.” He let *that* linger in the atmosphere. He gazed at her through the haze of untimely death.

“I know,” unfazed Wheeler Wilson said back to him. “But you’re *my* killer.”

Arthur thought about the various ways he could take that. Do I *kill* her? he thought. Or is she saying that I belong to her, as in a beau or something? Before he could ponder further, she said this:

“I’ve known you before, I’ve determined. We were married.”

“*Married*?”

“Yes, after you were buried. I killed *you*. Shot you right clean through the heart.” A smirk appeared on her face. She was way beyond him now, she felt. Try to top *that,* she seemed to exude in her haughtiness. “But then I dug you up, brought you back to life. You presented me with a ring and I accepted the call then I accepted the proposal. Buried *then* married,” she reinforced.

“I gotta get some air,” Arthur said, shaking his head once more, as was customary around this confusing, confounding dame. “Am I, I don’t know, free to go?”

“Go where you wish, Arthur ‘Orient’ Morgan. Just don’t leave town. The boundaries of the town are the sims of Arang — here — then, Baekga the great forest, Kumiho the city center, Mago the beachside, Yongwang, and then Dokkaebi from which the closest Oracle match of Dokken Hollow comes from. You know, the Bang Bang Club, where we first met in this town. I sent you a teleport invite just like you did for me tonight. We watched Julee Cruise and then uncovered the truth of Dr. Tom, Cruise as well. 2n1… so common in this world.” She paused, not knowing how much to reveal right now. She decided to end it like this: “You are as much an actor in this world as you’d want in any world class Shakespearean play.”

“Hmm,” he said, getting up, having enough. “Can I take the drink with me?”

But then he looked down and he had none. Came with the booth, came with the place. Wilson’s drink. And now he was apart from her. TBC

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February 7, 2026 · 8:02 am

00490315 (Caledonia?)

“Who’s the cowboy in back now?” asked Chet to his on again off again girlfriend, this time toggled on.

“Oh, some guy Mom says owes her a favor. Working for free because of that. Or snapshots… something.”

“Interesting,” Chet says, envisioning the poses. Not abstract.

“Is it?” Alice Tart slumps even lower in her seat across from her still upright, toggled on lover. From this angle, she can barely see his eyes above his perpetual handkerchief, worn not for fear of disease anymore but just because of the look. The lead singer/guitarist of Scissorrun© is all about style now, and of the Christmas kind in particular. He never wants the holiday to end. Else: he’ll have to think about other things. Like death. Because of his emphasis on style over substance, he’s never really learned to play the guitar properly and that’s understandably held his band back. Drummer Sherwood is pretty rock solid with his naturally hyperactive hands and all. And bassist Karl is at least good on “Paper”, their hit single and perhaps the only song of theirs that really matters in the end. Restaurant manager turned band manager Biff Carter is urging Chet to take lessons from a local musical genius named Spiff, no kin to Biff despite the similarity of names. Not a long lost brother or anything… I don’t think (?).

Chet leans toward Alice. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.” He’d heard it hurts more the second time but of course didn’t say this aloud.

“Oh I was over all that the first time around,” she said, dismissing the sympathy. “Anyway, Mom has a new man now,” and she nods toward the kitchen.”

“Really?” says Chet. “That quick?”

“Yup. That quick. Pictures did him in, I’m guessing.”

Chet nods. He understands the power. 319.

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February 6, 2026 · 9:11 am

00490310 (the truth)

“It’s suppose to be a representation of the Red Room from Twin Peaks but, as you can see, it’s not quite finished yet. Gotta get that zig zag black and white texture for the floor… and so on.”

“Really nice, Wheeler,” I say, wondering again why she hadn’t shown me this before. “And the painting — I assume it is a duplicate of the one over in Salty’s, in the old storage area behind the cooking section.”

“Or the same,” Wheeler answers. “Maybe this painting is in the past and the one over at Salty’s is more in the future. Or visa versa. Depends on if Arthur is still tied up over there. And I think he might, making this the, um, future?” She looks over at me. “But you’re not Arthur. And we haven’t made a deal yet. Better get over there, then.”

“Okay,” I said to end things here. Because I was never really here without her. I wanted to talk about the old core of avatars and her role in it. Baker Bloch — me, in essence — came before Wheeler. Baker Blinker came before her. Baker Blinker is more me than her. And then Hucka Doobie came along to make an original three. Hucka Doobie is of course the spiritual guide for the blog and attached photo-novels as a whole, although she hasn’t been in the recent ones as much. That might change. Then there’s Karoz, kind of my blue-green alien brother, if I am the same as Baker Bloch which I mostly am (Whitehead in Da Woods). Then and only then manifested Wheeler, and, at first, she wasn’t who she is today. All that changed with the photo-novels, 2 if not 1. She came… in 2. All the rest were there long before even 1. She was the last who became the first. Arkansaw.

But we never got around to that discussion.

I watched her disappear up the stairs and then I did too.

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February 3, 2026 · 8:04 am

00490305

She looked over at the files that go with the painting before leaving the door, debating in her head whether to throw that into the deal as well — as a sweetener. If only she had a copy… or a copier. “Wheeler… is that a last name? Or first? Or some kind of nickname, I don’t know.” In his chair, Arthur struggles against the tight ropes to no avail. She’d tied him down good. Old girl scout, let’s say.

“Wheeler is a way of life,” she answered cryptically. “Wheeler is something that goes and goes only to circle back in on itself again. Wheeler is love; Wheeler is… truth. Wheeler is. In short: I don’t know either,” and she emits a soft chuckle with this.

Arthur is shaking his head now. “First you appear to be someone I know, then you knock me out — don’t know how you got the drop on me so quickly.” And here, Arthur laments being overpowered by a woman again. A man would have been bad enough. He puts great pride in his strength and agility. Maybe she’s some kind of athlete, Arthur ponders, struggling once again in the increased frustration. Or a *witch*. He’d heard about such creatures roaming the streets of St. Dennis at night. And also over in the swamplands. “Then, you drag me in here,” he continues after finding the ropes as tight as ever. Arthur then looks around, sees the car tires, sees other objects he doesn’t understand. “Where are we anyway? This almost looks like it’s not St. Dennis any more.” How long was I *out*? he thinks.

“It isn’t,” says Wheeler. “We’re in a place called Rodentia formerly complemented by a giant white — and brown — rat named Rodentius, a male for the female. Yet Rodentius has left the scene. Giant bathroom in the sky is all I’ve got so far.”

“Nonsense, lady, er, Wheeler,” Arthur quickly decides. But he’s shaking his head still, trying to absorb. “And what about that *painting* you mentioned, the one I could trade for. Answer me!” His frustration had spilled over into rage. He’d reached a limit of whatever patience he had left.

Wheeler kept silent, then: “You’ve had enough for today, Arthur. I’ll come back tonight and we can talk more about the 2n1. I’ll let you cool down for a while.” TBC

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