A new area has opened up in Blue Mountain for exploration I call One Pink Mountain. Or Pink Mountain. Or Pink. Because of the circle
above below. A passageway leads us there — magical. This will be a *shared* environment. More soon!
Area: Almost exactly 1 square mile. Let’s spread or widen it a tad or pinch, then, and make it exactly.
Not too awfully long ago it was the other way ’round.
filed under: Which one’s pink?, Blue Mtn., One Pink Mtn./Pink Mtn./Pink, flippy floppy stuff
At the beginning of the 20th century, some stores began suggesting “sex-appropriate” colors. In 1918 the trade publication Earnshaw’s Infants’ Department claimed the “generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.” Additionally, a 1927 issue of Time noted that large-scale department stores in Boston, Chicago, and New York suggested pink for boys.
“Let’s talk about your plug, Ruby.”
“Ruby?” she said.
“Just go with the flow.”
“Well… it covers up an anatomy flaw. Between 2 Cheeks.”
“Good enough. Now… let’s talk about the pink skin.”
“If you are red you rise up to meet blue in pink. If you are blue you rise up to meet red in pink. Peaks are where things do a flippy floppy. And in this case one is larger and one is smaller. Crazy Blue.”
“I’m going to wear my Crazy Blue outfit for the rest of this photo-novel, Baker. Just for a meditative device.”
“Then we won’t be seeing much of you beyond these points.”
Yes it seemed to be a red and blue day overall.
An unexpected path that barely escaped illegality.
I’m not sure what this was designed to be but it’s not pretty.
Blue and pink (or red) again. Almost a trail marker by this point.
Tomorrow I get to here.
“Whatcha reading these days, Older Me?”
“Oh, pretty much blank pages, you know. Just me — you — reflected back. Everyman’s Problems.”
“Oh I’ve had my share of adventures down through the years. Hiking (pause). Biking.”
“Sounds like you plugged along nicely.”
Solemnly: “I did. I had to turn into a man sometimes to get by — female animations only go so far! Right in this very room in the center of the Cactus House it started, in fact. Long long ago. Lemont was with me of course. Your Arthur.”
“No. No dear. That’s not correct. That’s not correct at all.”
“In terms of Nautilus, things have become a *bit* more complicated.”
“I *see* (!).”
“I better get back to work, child. You should leave now.”
(to be continued)
What I originally called Campfire Rock, which seems to be a misnomer in retrospect.
I’m tempted to call this projecting rock above it Turtle Head.
Closeup of the lower rock. I don’t think this was a campfire site, despite what it looks like more from a distance. Just rocks on top of a rock some kid put together. Or is it?
Turtle Head, turns out as I approached from above, has its own, smaller collection of topping rocks…
… and an accompanying what looks like a children’s sleeping bag? Cartoon cats all over it, mostly black but a couple brown. Kids again enter our theories about the place.
Turtle Head and Campfire Rock together.
circles: the difference of a year
Last spring in background. This spring: foreground. Almost a square mile encompassed in a circle raised slightly to be exact (hence the 2 concentric circles, inner pink and outer red). Last spring’s circle, called Country Park, is 3.18 miles in circumference, so about 8/10ths of a square mile in contrast. Peak of finds in Country Park: the Monolith. Peak so far of new circle — think I called it Pink Hill. Or Red Mtn. — anyway, the peak so far is Turtle Head in combo with Campfire Rock just described in that last post here.
Both parks also contain locations called Mystery, the newest one being Mystery Gorge, certainly a strange passage almost directly connecting Country Park with the top of Red Mtn./Pink Hill and its Turtle Head. That was also featured in a recent post called “Inside”.
Must talk about Mountain Man. 1st encountered the *hammock* of Mtn. Man in City Park not far from my toy happening in the middle of last July called ALOHA. 2nd encounter was in County Park last September, and he’s actually mentioned in this post.
The story of County Park basically ends there, as another location I had my eye on for a toy happening was blocked — someone else was already present, a nice enough bloke but obviously living off the land. I knew where he lived; he was telling me that, albeit unconsciously in all likelihood, unless he was an alien himself, ha. He filled my space quite effectively. He, in all likelihood, needs it more.
Soo. Fast forward to this March. 3rd encounter, let’s call it. And then a 4th the next day. For this guy, this Mtn. Man, actually *tossed my toys* over a cliff. Luckily he put them in a bucket first in order to dump and so they were gathered together in roughly the same spot. This man *destroyed Aloha* (!). To remind, Aloha is in City Park, not County Park. And Mtn. Man now *lives* just outside of the former location of Aloha and is building a fire pit directly underneath the same rock the toys were positioned under — thus the tossing. He thought a kid brought them up the mountain to this location. I had to explain to him I was a 63 year old kid, ha. Yes, we talked. We are actually friends now. We are linked. I quickly explained that the toys were a sort of art happening, and that I was an artist. The next day, on our big hike around the area, I explained in more detail that I was a collagist, although I’m not sure if he understood. Do *I* even understand? Anyway, to recap, Mtn. Man moves his camp site from County Park to City Park, destroys proximate Aloha, and then encounters me shortly after, where we become friends. But, at the time, *I did not remember* this was the same person from County Park I exchanged a sentence or two with last September until a bit later. Very very peculiar, but it continues…
(to be continued)
To truly understand Mtn. Man we have to put ourselves in the middle of all the circles (All Circles, aka All Ears), in his place. The Orange Man descends to blue…
I believe he entered his original mountain, the start of it all… here.
And so shall we.
“You didn’t even explain that the newest explored mountain, this Red Hill or Pink Peak or whatever — inside the 4th and largest circle — could be his *final* home.”
“I’ll get to that.”
Even in Sweet Nanon’s Morning light, it was a creepy place, what with its rickety old picket fence, grown up yard, and weatherworn appearance. Dare our heroine go inside? That would be Crazy. Crazy Ass Blue. Let’s do it!
Turns out the basement was the worst part but that was just because of all the kitty litter, a blockage of sorts. The heroine carefully descends…
It was a tight fit but she made it, newly placed crown just squeezing in under the ceiling. Top of the kitty tower, Queen of the Basement. She surveys her queendom and deems it needs cleaning up. Pretty badly. She’s lost control of her 15 year old girl and 4 year old boy, her subjects. Better return to the Room and draw out a plan.
But she looked and looked but couldn’t find her way back. Just walls. She forgot that she was already in the Room. And always had been.
She exits the house disappointed.
The housing village I have to pass through to get to Pink Peak (changed from Red Hill or Pink Mtn.!) contains some ridiculously high retaining walls, Medieval style even.
At the start of the best, actual path up the mtn. is what I call the Graveyard, full of holes like this.
On the upper edge of the Graveyard we encounter Turnup Rock, which indicates that the path has changed direction and is turning up the mtn. instead of continuing around it at a more level ascent. In the future, this appellation might naturally degenerate into Turnip Rock, and then explorers and researchers of the peak might wonder why it is named so, since it’s quite block-like and looks actually not very much at all like some kind of fruit or vegetable.
Beyond the mtn.’s front ridge lies what I’m deeming Vineland, a microcosm which could have an interesting story of its own. The path I’ve picked out passes through its upper reaches.
Far side of Vineland. The woods clear out substantially after this
At the top now. Closeup of that kid’s cat themed sleeping bag, which I then hauled from next to Turtle Head and dumped over the bank of a nearby dirt road just to get it out of sight and mind.
I explored the all the rocks of the top pretty extensively this day, perhaps my main mission. Nothing as odd as Turtle Head and Campfire Rock already discussed here, but below is pictured one of the larger and more interesting of the rest, complete with defining orange fungii that I couldn’t find anywhere else.
Descending directly down from the top to go back, uncovered this rock that seemed to have tumbled against an already mature tree. Mostly likely illusion. What else is not what it seems on this clearly magical mountain now called a peak? Maybe won’t reach it again for a couple of days. And I’m still waiting to hear from Mountain Man, who I gave my email address to about 2 weeks back now, the start of all this. He has some art and writing he needs to share with me fer sure (!). Trouble is, he doesn’t have easy access to a computer. Hope I haven’t already lost contact with him!
“I seemed to have left my wallet back at the office, Lexi. Be a dear and cover for me again?”
“Sure thing, boss,” said the cyberpunk bartender back, use to such things. He’ll make it up to her in the end, she thinks. Surely he’ll make it up to her. “Soo. Whatta ya think of the act down there?”
If I wanted a Lt. Uhura I’d go back to Star Wars Academy and order me up a Princess Leia, he thought. “Okay,” he said aloud.
“Star Trek Theme,” said Lexi. “I recognized it from my time on Venus. Popular there. Star Wars is of course hated on that planet. Ever since Luke Skyhobbler declared Martian Law.”
“I recall.” Thus the reason Edward, some people’s Eddie, didn’t bring up Wars. He received his Kick-Ass grasshopper, extra shot of crème de menthe. Now he could do some serious pondering about his business and its future.
“You going to tell her or should I (again)?” asked Lexi, knowing the woman was going to get the axe. Boss only visits once a week, and almost always there’s a firing as a result.
He drank a deep drink, set the 1/2 empty glass back down on the counter. “You, I suppose. Ben here yet?”
“Benny?” said Lexi, knowing Ben since he was a little boy. Couldn’t ever get the hang of the grown up name. “He’s around.”
Edward reached into the other pocket to retrieve a cigarette. “Do you know where?” He lit, he puffs, kind of in her face, just to make sure she knows he’s a tiny bit irritated at the lack of details.
“Sure, sure,” she responded, trying not to cough even a little. No one smokes in here but the Boss anymore. Rules of the Boss, actually. Only he is allowed to break them. Typical.
(to be continued)
“Still in Nanon Sweet Morning light in the room in the room, box springs are broken next to hand springs. Colorado.
“The place: BIONaz Gulch (sim) next to Snowmass near Woody Creek. Colorado. Woody Woodmanson loves Snow — comes from that land and sometimes hung out with fellow native Snowmanster and then seems, later on, to himself animate a snowman after moving back to Collagesity with the rest of the Baker family in photo-novel 04.”
“Let me guess (for the 3rd): Colorado.”
“We could go with several but let’s use Jack Torrance leaning against a Colorado map in Kubrick’s “The Shining” while disabling a ham radio, head appearing to touch a location called Cannibal or Canibal Plateau.
“Kubrick did this to indicate Jack is actually a wannabe cannibal in the film, as foreshadowed by him talking about the Donner Party LINK in the scene where he, with his family, approach the evacuating Overlook Hotel to take over as winter caretaker.”
“Mountain air,” says Wheeler to this. “I’m soo sleepy (!).” She mimics Wendy’s yawn in the film again just before Jack’s Donner Party exposition.
And so we return.
“Oh it’s a God awful outfit, this Crazy Blue.”
“*No* I’m not going to keep wearing it. I just tried it on just for laughs and giggles. If anyone was here looking at me what they’d be doing.”
“Well, that’s very kind I suppose. But it comes off in a moment.”
“Just stop it, *you*.”
“Is she gone yet?” asked the bigger boss about the singer Edward Daigle was suppose to fire today. They were out on the docks to afford more privacy. Plus it was a starless and bible black sky, nothing to distract from fully enjoying the blood red moon.
“Not quite. I’m letting her work out her shift before telling her.”
“But it has to be today,” the bigger boss reinforced. “Someone else is coming in. She doesn’t know it yet but she is.”
Edward had a pause. The bigger boss was flirting with Shelley just yesterday as she still clung to his arm. What’s that girl up to? Could it be?
“Oh you know her. You know her well.”
left is right
“You don’t understand these people, Shelley. They are *powerful*. He’s over there with his new girl, *plotting* things. Things that can’t be stopped.”
“*I’m* his new girl,” said unruffled Shelley to this, assuming a cute pose in her seat opposite Edward. Ben Left Horn and Mona sat across from them in the balcony area. Indeed they were plotting, or at least Ben was plotting and Mona was acting as a sounding board for his ideas. She was good that way. Ben thought she might be a keeper, one of the true harem he was collecting down through the years. And Shelley… perhaps the new queen, he thought. Queen of the cats.
“If you put back on that Crazy Blue outfit you’ll be gone to me, to the world at large,” Edward continued. “This place, this Nightsity, will suck you in.”
“What do you care? Surely,” she thought aloud, “surely not for the benefit of *Arthur* after all you’ve done to him.”
“*You’ve* done to him,” he retaliated, then got back to the main subject. “*Don’t* take the gig, Shelley. You don’t know where it will lead you.”
I want… adventure, she thought, thinking of boring, stuck-in-the-mud Arthur. The Arthur who gasped at every sentence of the draft of her 5th novel, not believing what he was reading. What did he expect? she thought. He was gone *most* of the time these days. It will all come to a Shakesperian end, she surmised, but then quickly forgot — backtracked. Running away from the sunset, running toward the moon, no matter how full and blood red it was, indicating warning. Arthur was still her hubbie, her lubbie wubbie. Edward was just a distraction while he was away on the Omega continent. *Corsica* continent, she then reminded herself, confusing lies with truth again. *I’m* the one involved with Omega, she quickly remembered. Lonelyheart Publishers. They said to *juice* it up a bit — that’s what all those lonely housewives want. An *escape*, and a steamy one at that. So she had to write more detail, each novel becoming more graphic and revealing than the one before. That was the development. She tried to pretend it was deeper characters, twistier plots. But at the bottom she was seeing the writing clear. DEMO. DEMON. Satan at the middle, doing what he does best. Black Lake; starless.
“You know he use to go by Jer,” Edward said to fill the void. “He and his brother switched names, just to confuse the lot of us, the readers I suppose.” He looks for the 4th wall with this, to no avail.
“Horns?” said Shelley.
(to be continued)
Blue Mountain from the slopes of neighboring Pink Peak, the actual namesake for the town it towers above. Not as much from the western direction we see here but more from the north. And to its north lies not a *barren* landscape bereft of humans but comparatively so. I might be heading there next; who knows where I’ll end up. Lower Pink Peak might be closing up for the spring, what with the early encroachment of poison ivy and, quickly following behind it, other bothersome woodsy aspects like snakes and bugs thanks to a mild winter here in the NC mountains. And despite a fairly cold March much to my disappointment. I spotted some poison ivy coming out on the town’s greenway 2 days ago, about the soonest I remember it sprouting. Use to be, I swear, the *end* of April I’d start seeing it instead of more toward the beginning. But maybe its just a weird spring, and the plants are confused because of all the odd weather, hot then cold, hot then cold. But overall pretty mild still, like I said. I can’t help but think of the advancement of global warming…
That night I found a figurine of one of Batman’s archvillains Poison Ivy staring menacingly in the same direction as similarly green Kick-Ass in a Nightsity comic book store display case. The night before this we observed Edward ordering a kick-ass grasshopper, his regular, from bartender Lexi at the seedy Nightsity establishment he runs for Ben Left Horn, formerly Jer Left Horn in these here photo-novels, 37 in a series so far.
Turning to leaves, there are precisely 3 population places named Leaf in the US, the same amount as found on a poison ivy plant. One of these is in Greene County, Mississippi, and whose only notable person, according to wikipedia, is named Lloyd *Green*, a pretty famous steel guitarist featured on Ken Burns’ “Country Music”. Also according to wikipedia as I found out this morning, villain Poison Ivy uses the power of an interplanetary force known as Green for the purposes of her ecoterrorism.
Why does Edward order a drink named kick-ass from a bar in the same town as a comic book store featuring the wannabe superhero? What is Shelley being tempted into by wearing a “Crazy Blue” outfit, another type of uniform if not a wet suit? Does formerly blue clad Duke Blue Devil Grant Hill still drink Sprite? Does it still quench his thirst? And what of his less famous and less tall Duke basketball running mate Thomas Hill, who won a national championship with him in ’91 and ’92? Hills again — peaks, higher and lower. The only way to figure out more is to go inside again.
“Yes, my love. I mean my *lord*. The Hills have been exposed, one greater, one lesser. Just as you requested. The one opened up…”
(reply (in head))
“Yes, my… lord. At once.”
7:06pm, in a secret rendezvous spot in Nightsity Harbour:
“He wants to invoke Horns of Hatton again, weight challenged brother of mine. Let’s try once more.”
“She’s been overruled. The King is in charge now. The Devil, red as. And also, of course–”
“– our father,” completes Jerry. He pops his off, Ben does likewise. They exchange; they restick. Ben is no longer Ben but Jer. Jerry is no longer Jerry but Benny. Now all they have to do is find
Lena the one who unites. They’d heard… Silver City, New Mexico, the place of the choppers.
“Keep your eyes peeled, requested driving Jer to riding Benny. Grant County is big enough to hide someone for a while but not that big — not as big as it use to be back in the days. We’ll find her.”
“Maybe even try Tyrone next door.”
“Azure? Could she be (hiding) in Azure?”