An urban legend claims that the monolith used in 2001: A Space Odyssey can be seen in some scenes of Zappa’s film 200 Motels (The Film). While a monolith can indeed be seen [most prominently at the beginning of the song “Penis Dimension”], it’s actually not the same one used in Kubrick’s film, as Kubrick had most of his models destroyed after 2001 was finished. On the same token Zappa didn’t film in the same studio Kubrick filmed 2001 in either. 
But it was the same, at least in spirit. And Zappa must have noted the 200-2001 similarity for the films. Subtraction of the 1 must have been satisfying for him, like he emasculated The Beatles with “We’re Only in It for the Money”. The monolith, the slab, is a penis with dimensions of 1:4:9. Perfection. It can all be telescoped back to 1 (and then gotten rid of).
Zappp had long thought he’d always keep the extra p in his name after adding it in school. “Play Ruben and the Jets,” the children chided in the playground, lovers of doo-wop at an early age. “Sing Yellow Snow,” most of the same requested in jr. high after progressive rock became all the rage. You want extra p, he thought vindictively when all this went down, I’ll give you an extra p. At 9 o’clock on Wednesday’s Thursday’s Friday, October 5-7, 1973 he announced his name change. Zappp. 3 p’s in a row, not 2. *Now* try to make Zappp A. into Zappa, ya’ll.
But what he found in that grave when he dug up old man Franklin had him doing a rethink. It was a dream, yes. No one in their right mind would try to raise that dick from the dead. Sorcerer, everyone has heard. Wizard say some. Zappp knows it is the latter. Because he’s been contacting him via wegee board for years. Robert Franklin; Roberts and Franklin. Wonder what happened to Roberts, because they were quite the team, measuring their careers against each other, like, well, like the type of people they were. Probably doing the same kind of stuff in the afterlife. Again he should know. Old Man Franklin gives him an update from The Beyond at least every other week. Or the WIZARD does — Zappp is not quite convinced the 2 are one and the same, a logical reduction, despite mounting evidence over time. They sleep in the same metaphorical bed is all he concedes.
And then *this* when he wakes up. What is someone trying to tell him? He feels like the disposing of the newly placed Monolith over there — just digging it up (as well) perhaps — is the same as getting rid of the extra p in his name. Strong conviction on this.
He and Ben could do it together; he’s plenty strong but he’d need help from the stronger animal. But Ben had run away, totally frightened of the thing standing so shiny and alien in the far corner of the yard, and with that weird humm emitting from it, like some kind of dynamo — Dinah… Moe, hmm. Zappp couldn’t blame him. He’d like to run away in the woods too. Big Woods. Big Run. Anything besides facing another decision tree. While he’s at it, he may just dig up that tree as well.
(to be continued)
“Why do you keep your bathing suit on (in the tub)? You understand we’re married — no need to be formal.” But Wheeler, I mean, Eyela knew it was necessary. Eyela Gold, her newest incarnation. She also understood she had to ditch the purple hair in order for it to work long-term. Newt would lose interest if not. He preferred the new now: Newt likes new.
“It was a successful party, dearest,” she decided to say, dodging a bullet. “Trouble is (she suds her suddenly aching head while also rubbing/massaging it) — I… don’t remember much about it strangely enough. Like it was all, I don’t know, a *dream*.” She produces something from her hair; instantly knows it is the key. She hides this fact from Newt. She quietly places the golden object on the floor behind the tub, waiting to be picked up later when Newt had gone to bed or else to his study, if he can find it. 319, Eyela Gold reads on the thing. She must cover this fact up.
(to be continued)
The next day Newt goes out to the Rolls Royce Dawn roadster to retrieve the “Monolith”, painting or photograph — we don’t know until he opens the trunk. But then (*gasp*), he finds it empty, no art within. He tries to calm down. Maybe it was in the trunk of the other car, the 1947 Black Bean Rod 9 that Eyela just purchased before their long vacation, had to have to give them something to be cheerful about upon their return, she said. Maybe something was wrong with the lock on this trunk — shouldn’t be, since it’s such an expensive car and manufactured so carefully, at least according to reputation — and Benny put the art in the other trunk for safekeeping. So he tries that one as well (*double gasp*). It was there… but in a different form. And broken in pieces. He takes the pieces out of the trunk, carefully, er, pieces them together in the garage — making sure to shut the doors beforehand. This was Benny’s lone day off, but Benny sometimes shows up to work anyway to put in some extra time — off the clock of course. He’s just that dedicated. Good ol’ Benny, Newt thinks amidst the chaos. But *this*. He stands back, taking in the thing that he’s created. It could tumble at any moment. But this is what he saw.
I believe it is the same as the monolith in the Big Woods Zapppa woke up to yesterday. The woods that are right over there, just beyond the brick wall surrounding the manor, protecting it. The stuff of dreams.
It’s time to find out what this is all about, really.
Humorously designed sign at the beginning of a local trail you probably wouldn’t know about unless you’re a devoted mountain biker, since it’s way up a 750 foot knob (The Knob). Not the easiest location to reach by foot.
And on the other side of this same trail: that damn moving gnome. The other day I dared to touch the possibly cursed object for closer examination. It looks to me upon turning it over that the name of the little f-er is Stinkerfoot — logical extension of “…inkerfoot”.
But when googling Stinkerfoot up popped at the top of my search results this video of a song called “Stink-Foot” by Frank Zappa from his most famous album “Apostrophe”, its closing track. This album also contains the well known “Don’t Eat the Yellow Snow” I just referenced in a recent post.
Google also offered to search specifically for Stinkerfoot instead of the suggested Stinkfoot, but upon doing so understood why they substituted the latter in the first place. Nothing really significant found using the former. So there you have it. Zappa works his way back into our story from a direction you might least expect.
straightening out a problem
A person was found dead at 64/64 Koryo just outside the brick wall surrounding the manor. Lucy was her name, yet another character the woods produced, spat out in an attempt to tell as much of its story as I possibly can. Lucy doesn’t fit in?
So that’s Zapppa at 32/32 in the corner of the graveyard, Lucy here, and, let’s see, *another* Lucy — dead again it seems, and sans head this time — with a more science fictiony outfit at 96/96…
… and then to complete the first half of our diagonal across the sim, in the very center, we have dreaming Billy Clock at 128/128 or, more specifically, his tag along, blasted damned Wither Tree, as well as, I would assume, that giant waterfall Mistress named Falls of 10000 Lions he also manifests when snoozing.
Yes, there it is not far away, with roar indeed deafening.
Barrels seen from 160/160. *There’s* Science Fiction Lucy. She’s okay as it turns out. Must be part of the dream.
More woods at 192/192 not surprisingly. And there’s the other Lucy, the first one, sprung back to life, hmm. She faces a covered bridge at the northwest edge of White Tree Village here.
Then a dead Zapppa or something hanging near the center of a different covered bridge at 224/224, leading out of WTV on its other side…
… bringing us to the end, which is the same as the beginning: 256/256 > 0/0.
Now to clean all this raw information up.
Got it! Everything relates to that central stream running basically northeast to southwest across Koryo. You can clearly see it from all key spots on our diagonal outlined above. Beginning indeed does equals end.
“Who the f– are you now?”
“I am the writer.”
(pause) “I thought Mistress and Venus were the writers of this tale. On-the-Mattress Mistress and her sister. Mistress’ sister.”
“No. I write them.” Smoke gets in his eyes but he doesn’t love the other. He loves himself. “And I have help. The artist. Just downstairs. You know him too. Another Barry. just like we now have 2 Lucys. He sleeps while I write. I write while he sleeps. It’s a win win situation.” He exhales more smoke, readies his hands on the keyboards. “2 hours till sunrise and the other Barry takes over. Better get back to it (type type type bell/carriage return).”
August 14, 1974. Lucy Blue Dress takes one last look back at the campsite she’d stayed her summer after graduating from high school. She’d miss the cool cool stream that flowed and sometimes cascaded by her tent. She’d miss the gatherings at Sugar’s shack with all the weirdos of the woods. She’d miss more organized White Tree Village and dreamy Bluebird who lived there and who she took occasional long walks with. Most of all, there was Titiana and Vanessa, her bestest friends during this period in her life. “Come with me to college!” she begged of them beside their favorite wagon near the shack near the center. “No, we stay here,” said Vanessa, which made Titiana nod. They all called her Tiana, because her full name was just a little too much to pronounce in casual conversation. She didn’t like it but she accepted the shortening; she was growing up and becoming more mature about such things. Both were smart. Both took the SATs and did well enough to go to their pick of at least a public school. But: no. The woods had captivated them beyond escape. The Ouroboros that is the stream had worked its magic, beginning matched with end. They would be happy going round in circles the rest of their lives, without a worldly degree, without a decent and rewarding job that resulted in such, without the ability to support a family beyond perhaps a husband or wife — both girls swung either way on that preference. “The woods will take care of us,” they said, and bade her farewell with teary hugs just minutes ago. They offered to follow her to the campsite down the stream and see her off from her woodlands home of 2 months but she said this wasn’t necessary, and there was no reason for them to watch her leave the way they all came: alongside the brick wall that led outta here. This corner is where the woods die for her.
And then there was Zapppa, who was set to leave the forest himself tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow at the latest, he promised. “Just gotta wrap up something at the cemetery,” he said minutes before she then met with Vanessa and Titiana that one last time.
He was the love of her life. Pretty sure of that, she was. Going to college with her, he was. Studying math: her, psychology. Stats would be their shared passion beyond the bed. They determined there was a 24.687531% chance they would return here after college, using their acquired skills to better the woods and their denizens and citizens. Never happened. The zero and nine would have to be added in to make it work and that, they realized, would defeat the whole purpose. Worldly they remained.
In one reality.
(to be continued)
She suddenly stopped the 1947 BLACK BEAN ROD 9 in the middle of the road and looked over. Pyramid. Just like pictured on The Bill. Gold tip at the top. Then…
…. Barry walked out of the Chinese restaurant on the other side with their take out orders, still looking for his. Dunce he remains; making a lot of D’s. Well: only 3 this year, an improvement. He obviously chose this location for Eyela to pick him up for symbolic reasons. Seeing the boy, Eyela forgets the before times, becomes absorbed in the Gold experience. She has the key still, hidden deep deep deep in her pockets. 319. Alls she knows now is that the room is somewhere around, and that Barry is with her.
He’s still walking in place, waiting for her to change into his Mom. Should be any second.
Aah. What the heck (door slam). We’ll just go with Eyela as his mommy. But we may still change the name to Pink. I’ll dig up some more appropriate hair soon.
“Mmm. Smells good!” she says pleasantly, and then motors down the highway to parts yet unknown.
in the Middle
She checks the graffiti portrait in the exact center of town to make sure (128/128 Yangban).
Yes this hair will do fine. 🙂
Barry DeBoy checks into the Mid-town motel of the large Jeogeot city with the Duck.
Came with the room apparently.
He figured with all the other stuff happening, it’s his now. “Excuse me, Paul,” he said while squeezing past it to wash his hands and tidy up.
Meeting Mom in 3 hours. He’s very nervous. They hadn’t seen each other in 3 hours. Just enough time to shower and get ready. Ready get and shower to time enough just.
The TV didn’t work but he had his computer, his game. Toilet paper dispenser right beside the bed, actually a little over top of the bed. That’s normal, right? he asked himself while automatically logging in. He left now blue haired Cloe at the bank holding a gun in one hand and 50,000 lindens in the other. Paper bag, again. He goes back back back to when he was a kid, getting take out for them while Mom was busy with, er, clients, she said. Only later of course did he understand what that meant. She had a room downtown, very much like this one. In fact… no: impossible. The old motel was torn down about ’67, he supposed, right around the time of the robot revolution (Robolution). He himself became a mechanoid for 3 years after that — whaddaya call them? A *hybrid* anyways. Anyway. Dr. Diper fixed him up in late ’70, and by ’71 he was back on the streets, peddling duck dope to the ones also fortunate enough to come through the other side of the mess. Mid-town rebuilt. *No* robots allowed. They had to move back down to Southside by the railroad and the chicken plant. *They* didn’t have any noses, the town council decided. They can handle the fowl stench.
Meeting Mom in 30 minutes, Westside Diner. Shower and general tidying up didn’t take as long as he recalled. Clothes fit perfectly and didn’t have to be rehemmed. The man remembered the boy remembered the man. Cap fit rightside up instead of upside right. He left Cloe moving quickly to the get away car with the bag, unwitting Fran at the driver’s seat. She’s as culpable as the other now. “Get the lead out!” she said while slamming the door (END). Enough of all that, he thought, shutting the laptop. I’ll read a book for 15 minutes, and maybe it will be time to start my shower again since I left the water on.
Shhh, don’t tell anyone.
My boy is 15 minutes late, she thought beside the absorbed portrait in the middle of town. Better go meet up with him.
She looks just like I remember her! he thought. Hadn’t changed a bit. But the designer drug was wearing off bit by bit. One by one, the wrinkles began to appear on her face, under her eyes, alongside her chin. Yes: different. Mom but changed. The years have treated her well but they’re still years to live with. Barry realizes the duck will be gone too when he returns to his motel. It was *their* diner. They always met here under the gold tipped pyramid. To talk about life, where they were both heading, where they have been. His mother was always more like a best friend than a parent. She was only 17 years older than him. He felt like he could talk to her about anything. Including the duck.
“Mom,” he starts.
“Don’t,” she said, putting finger to lips and making a shh sound. “I know about the duck.”
(to be continued)
Newt walks down 64th exactly aligned with longitude 64 in the sim. He’s just done the same in Big Woods sans a road to follow, trying to also figure out the lay of the land there. *There* has shifted to here. Witness the Duck in the background sign (!).
Wall of purest Green ahead. And that confounded gold tipped pyramid. How did Eyela know it would be here??
Now to find her, Newt thinks. Could have shifted shapes already, exchanging old for new. Very likely, given her history.
There’s also some clear indication that an association exists between this new town, this Gold City as I call it derivatively, and NWES City on the west side of the continent — opposite coast.
Remember NWES City and *its* Applewood? Primary setting for photo-novel 22, perhaps the best of the lot, or at least most profoundly, um, balanced front to back (unless it’s 25, 19, 16, 13, 10, 7, 4 or 1 in the series). We also saw Marsha “Pink” Krakow in that one, along with her boy Barry. Applewood (sim) is most prominently featured, though, in section 1 of photo-novel 16, which matches a NWES City narrative to one created in Nautilus’ Collagesity (when it existed), or, more precisely, a NWES City narrative unfolded in sections 1, 3, 5 *balanced* (that word again) by a Collagesity narrative existing in sections 2, 4, and 6 to complete. In photo-novel 22, as it happens, Collagesity has, in essence, *merged* with NWES City (briefly) to form a synthesis of inner/personal and outer/general, the goal of my journeys since the failure of same back in photo-novel 4 when I tried it with (what I call again) VHC City.
Is Newt thinking some of these same thoughts about past photo-novels as he continues to explore Gold City, advertised by the owner as the *second* largest city of the Jeogeot continent? Probably. Can you guess the largest? I think you can.
One more note here. The rent is significantly higher in Gold City than NWES City, which I would assume makes it more difficult to flesh out a story like I did with the latter. Right now I’m working along the lines that the name Applewood here is planted on purpose in its honor. Add in my efforts past and present, and we may have some kind of overall Jeogeot mythology forming from the aether.
At the midway point up in the sim, Newt turns left from 64th onto Southbridge, hoping to get more answers tonight.
Marsha “Pink” Krakow was praying in a Mid-town church. Newt just missed her. “God bless Mama, rest her soul. And Dada. And most of all my little boy all grown up and playing with fire now. Help him not manifest the Duck any longer.”
Fat chance, he thinks simultaneously while spraying in Southside.
She releases the doves from the steeple, hoping one would poop the truth on him, just like with her.
Here he or she comes!
I saw the sign and then I knew it was a dream. Applewood. They *are* connected.
Someone was behind me. I dare not turn around. My painting! Turned three dimensional and come to life. But what did she or he want (from me)? Dream dream dream, I thought. Don’t fear — in the dream.
I turn around.
She’d left the water in the shower running but it was on purpose: to prove a point. Or, better, to remind her of something. A key, 2nd shower really not needed since no poop is involved.
She was finished with her clients but there was more work to be done tonight before
going home bed. Check on the Duck. Because she was about ready to kill someone…
… with writing. “Dear,” she called over to her ex but both still using Gold for a surname. “How do you spell asimilation? With that extra s I’m always mising? Dear oh dear. There I go again!”
“Answered yourself of course,” he responded, not staring up from the folded newspaper. 20 dead in Uptown this year so far. What is Gold City coming to??
“Yes,” she realized. “All I have to do is look down.”
“Or straight ahead…” *sip*
“… if a computer is involved, yes.” Which it wasn’t in this Gold City experience of hers. She preferred pen over keys here. Must be something about running away as fast as possible from the Ebony and the Ivory. Dove’s where it’s at now. She just used it in fact. In the shower. Which she needs to take another of. *No*. She has the key, she reminds herself again, still writing, still scribbling sideways across the yellowing paper, perhaps parchment. *Barry* is the one. He needs the shower. But where is Barry?
Still scribbling, still writing.
Newt sets the paper down. He’s had enough bad. Now for good. “I’m glad I found you again Eyela. Just mised you in the church, ha.”
She looked down, emitted a small laugh as well. Good one, Newt. Then she took the pen and struck out that sentence. Then another, and another until the whole paper was full of lines. Newt was gone. Newt, her ex, perhaps even still her husband since she’s reverted back to Eyela and/or they still share the same last name, was never here. Or else he left earlier. She writes alone.
Later she sits in bed staring at the sword, wondering how to turn it back into a pen. Looks like actual killing is in order if she doesn’t succeed with this.
Because the Duck is right beside her.
“Yes?” he quacked.
“I think… it’s… time…” STAB
“You’ve found the shower again, congratulations. It’s in the Oracle you know. Chicago.”
“I think you mean Illinois,” I replied. “As in: someone was bad and deserved to be
“In the circle of the shower with the water on, all is good,” he replied confidently. The person sitting opposite of me. Triangle, I gather. Something about the stabbing of the duck obviously. I am now a resident. How did *that* happen?
“You are not dead,” I decided to say. “You were supposedly killed–”
“Look to the House on the Hill. All revolves around the House on the Hill. Just like before.” The apparition, so solid just a second ago, fades…
She finally got out of the shower and put on some clothes, bound and determined to find the graffiti that would set her free.
She was at the house now, or the edge of the hill it stood proud and dominant upon.
She summoned Newt again to take a gander at what she’d found. This was obviously the source of their names. They *were* still married…
… to this town.