00500201 (photo-novel continues…)
She was in control of the BAND now, in the driver’s seat, this brilliant lead guitarist named Noodle from the Orient who had grown up before our very watchful eyes. With the finishing of the game above this one called Grand Theft Auto version 5, she slowed down their high speed, way too high to be sustainable long term. Sloow (*brake*) slooow (brake brake brake). She checked the speedometer. Right at 50, just inside the limit defined by the Mille Bornes card laid down to end it all. Right where we are now.
But there were problems at the rear still, a stowaway from the beginning of their journey, a carryover from the Gorillaz video coming before this one. Pink Phantom. With the slowing down of the car the vaporous, negatively oriented creature was able to slip out and make her escape to the past, freedom reclaimed. Interesting time loop created if so; I’ll have to think about that one further. TBC
00500202 (SPLAT: all caps)
That’s weird, Newt thinks. Concrete again.
Wonder where it leads?
—–
“Excuse me, sir. Concrete. Know anything? About?”
Daniel turns. He hadn’t heard that name in a looong time. “Come with me,” he said after introductory banter. He had a lot to unburden to this stranger from the far off Nawt Vaya Sea over on the mainland continent of Jeogeot. A lot indeed.
—–
3 hours and 19 seconds later…
“So I’m an artist, you see. And not a waste management operations worker.”
“I see.”
“I’m ready to leave this place, get a new job more in line with my goals.” Newt’s own gallery of Concrete sealed the deal for him. They must be connected (!).
“How… can I help?” How indeed. Howl.
“Take me back with you.” TBC?
00500203 (seven = silver)
“I think it’s painfully obvious that I’m Noodle in this scenario,” lead singer Shelley Johnston Struthers spoke over to band manager Wendell Biff Carter, out on a break from rehearsing, their third of the night. Lots of STOPS and GOS for this one, like in a heated game of Mille Bornes. Trouble. Friction. Inertia. No one could even decide which band members were present or not. Sometimes Sherwood was a kid and other times a fully functional adult, albeit a brilliant drummer at whatever age he appeared. Things were in FLUX.
“Okay, I agree,” said Biff, thinking of all the changes and shifts and sputterings too. “We’ll make that another concrete truth of the blog and attached photo-novel,” he said, but, again, that’s probably me talking through him. So let’s leave out that sentence and say Biff merely agrees with Shelley on her statement. She is Noodle. She’s also Pink tonight. He approves of both. Then he brings up a subject he knew he shouldn’t broach.
“Listen, Shelley. I’ve been doing some research. Staying a classical, so-called non-mesh avatar is fine. But it seems people who choose to follow that path with their outward appearance at least get new and improved mesh hands and feet. I wouldn’t touch the head, though.” He looks over at her head, thinks of the smile (not currently present upon it, though), that beautiful innocence. No, leave the head for sure.
Shelley looks down at her extremities. “I’m not changing *anything*.” She was stubborn about remaining classical. She also likes classical vegetation, builds. Helps reduce lag. What’s not to like? She’s been around long enough to remember the good old days and the excitement of Our Second Lyfe when it was relatively fresh and new… and *non-mesh*. That excitement is still there but in pockets instead of an overall vibe. You have to dig a bit more these days.
“I *do* like the pink,” says Biff, trying to smooth over his mistake. We can build up from that, he thinks. Whatever happens, I’m *not* going back to the restaurant business. TBC
00500204
Daisy spotted the problem right off. No Lag simply didn’t show up well against bar owner Bull’s chosen backdrop. And she knew he wouldn’t change it. Stubborn as a… well, you know. Daisy dared to voice the issue to No Lag; after all, who else was there to run the place. Bull was always “away”. Wheeler was she and she was Wheeler. So she felt she had no choice but to act.
“No Lag,” she said to her, approaching the stage from her usual behind-the-bar position. No customers right now. Rehearsals for No Lag’s band still. “You’ve got classical nailed, I admit.”
“‘Classical Gas!'” issued No Lag to Daisy about the last tune she played, which even contained the word in its name. Her hearing was worn out because of all the gigs down through the years; she can’t tell what level she speaks to people any more. So she usually just defaults to shouting.
“Good, nice.” Great, actually, thought Daisy. But she had to bring things down, *act* like she was kind of pleased but not super pleased about the music, the strumming. “You… the backdrop,” she got to the core of the situation.
And with this, No Lag just faded into it, her story no longer vital for the present photo-novel. Or at least the present section 02 of 06 or possibly even 07 (although a 7th hasn’t happened in a while, perhaps 3 or 4 back by now). Spotlight on lead singer Shelley instead. She simply took over… everything.
And new mesh feet ta boot! She decided to kick classically constrained No Lag to the side and take the band in a solid rock direction, changing the name from Silver Mosquitoes to just Mosquitoes. They became a steady buzz after that in the music industry. Not sure if keyboardist/DJ Okama Majo was kept but it’s a good possibility since he’s only partially obscured in the above photo. *Photo*-novel we’re in after all. 1/2 the story in theory, with one feeding off the other to make, hopefully, a new whole. It seems to be working (!). Getting back into it…
00500205 (time machine (found it!))
Phase 01: England, 1998
Pre-Phase 04: Japan, 2016
And this is where we came in…
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 00500206 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(!)
00500207 (bunny)
Someone sent me this screen capture from a Youtube video and was wondering if this is Shelley and her new rock band Mosquitoes on tour in upper Jeogeot. Thanks for the submission. I can verify this isn’t Shelley waving from a train, although the pink is interesting. And of course the repeated mention of concrete in the song accompanying the video gave me pause, given my recent set up of Concrete (gallery) over at Nawt Vaya several miles south of here.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ucqfu0dK2po
So I went over to the Zany Zen railway where the video was set to check it out and soon found this not far off from its starting point. Marvelous! Tor if not tour, then, for pink clad Shelley. 🙂
Here’s their web site:
Congrats on your 11th year in Our Second Lyfe, you zany railroaders!
00500208 (2 centers and getting small)
“Obviously he (Koolaid Man) got sent to the Abyss. You have me, you don’t need to go there any more. No matter how harmless it might present itself as; no need to waste energy on it. You had Andersson for a long time, a tighter focus. She’s pleased (that you let her go); a great number of people get trapped in lesser Babylons like that — no real harm done long term. The *Abyss* Abyss is different. You know. You *feel*.”
Noodle remained a way out, I gathered. Noodle and Shelley and Shelley and Noodle in one as I continue to link up with Gorillaz. Concrete, but with flowers and such sprouting up between forming cracks. Both grew up in front of our watchful eyes. But it also seems to me that Shelley wants me to let her go — eventually. Have to think about that.
00500209
We return end to beginning again, Omega to Alpha style. What to me is obviously the quintessential Google Street View car (get back to that soon) ends up perched on top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris after a long long journey through many many lands, mission fulfilled.
Final resting spot acquired, its quintessential driver who is also a shooter now has time to reflect on what they’ve been through, Old Sweetback in Concrete WA being perhaps the last victim, the quintessential thing being shot at, the illusive Bigfoot found, the Holy Grail of Earthly mysteries. No need to go on.
But then I find out that the Omega continent of Our Second Lyfe is slated to be completed after 17 years, its missing southeast corner filled in at long long last. This happens to be where I began my Google Street View related posts in these here photo-novels. Utah.
So let’s get that car back on the streets again. Approach from the west this time to highlight the mirroring aspect of the involved 14.5 mile Francis-Marion circle, Samak > Kamas.
Right on the line we are (!). Wasn’t planned that way.
00500210
Turns out there was already a band called The Mosquitoes that appeared on “Gilligan’s Island” during the 60’s so Shelley decided to return the name Silver to her own band, reverting them to the Silver Mosquitoes. “Never mind the ‘Gilligan’s Island’ band was mythical and not real,” she said to anyone who cared at the time. “It’s still something that people might remember and then get confused about. We’re *not* mythical, he he he.” They were primarily a Beatles cover band here so Shelley thought the addition back of Silver was appropriate in that way too, further tribute to what she and all other members of her present band, save one, thought of as the greatest rock group of all time and who were, yes, once known as the Silver Beetles before they gained fame and notoriety and substituted an A for an E in the remaining part of their name. They weren’t on that level, she knew. They may never grow out of their Silver phase, cover band forever. But she still had plans. Was the lone non-Beatles fan No Lag still a part of that? We’ll perhaps see in parts 03-06 or 07 if not the present one. Back to the action… TBC
passing back of the “silver band”
00500211 (bunny 02?)
“XXX Dream; It’s real!” she said as he approached from the south, having checked out a bit of the new green grasslands before moving north into settled country. Right on the line he is up above. (Visiting in the) daytime of course. Biff Carter dare not come here during the night; had to remain a tether to reality for Shelley and the others under his new management. He’s *not* going back to that dirty, dingy, claustrophobic restaurant on the edge of his village. Simply no to all that, he solidifies. “Just like in Concrete, Washington,” she continued, thinking of bigfoot there, the Man in Brown, so on. People didn’t want to see but still: there he is. The last thing shot before the quintessential Google Street View car found its final resting spot atop the Eiffel Tower, one of the most recognizable landmarks on Planet Earth. Until now. He was upon her, took in her Pink again. “Check out the parcel description if you don’t believe me.” She held out her white stick cigarette. “Hit?”
“No thanks I’m trying to cut back. And: I believe you about the parcel.” Yeah, he’d checked just in case while walking up. Like I said, he had everything to lose. Had to make sure *Shelley* wasn’t dreaming. XXX it was. But he didn’t tell her this, wanted to at least exude pretend confidence in her judgement, her grasp on truths.
“Soo… have you made a decision?”
“I have. Silver. No Mosquitoes.”
“Seven, then.”
“Yeaahh. Seven.” She reflexively looked down at the pinkness all about her body. Including the part alien skin, she knew. Thanks Baker Blinker!
Biff understood this was dangerous territory and that 7 could still overtake 9 since 9 could not probably move into 10 any more, safety zone on the other side of likewise static zero. But — the exuding.
“Ready for this, then?” X in triplicate form again. She hadn’t tried this out yet. Scared she was. And him through her. No restaurant no restaurant no restaurant. This experiment better *pan* out, else back to the pots and. He made sure they were on the same page of the script down here before heading upwards. Double check, *triple* check.
It worked! Biff remained manager of music not food. He knew this triplet form of Pink would *sell*. TBC
00500212
But we’ve kind of already been here before with Cyberpunk 2077’s US Cracks, similarly a 3 girl band with color emphasized in their names, Blue (Moon) Red (Menace) Purple (Force) to match Shelley’s Pink Pink Pink. And if you combine their blue and red and purple you get pretty close to pink through magenta, like in the light spectrum. Japanese girls too, remembering that XXX Dream is owned by a user who only speaks such. Let’s investigate this resonance further…
—-
“I couldn’t even take a *bath* without the paparazzi hounding me up there in that Japanese hell. I wanted out. And so I started slapping myself while still sleeping, over and over. Cheeks turning red… redder… reddest. It wakes me up but I realize the dream slapping doesn’t carry over into reality slapping, thankfully. No pain. No red. The three part dream where I’m Pink Pink and Pink is *done*, band manager Wendell Biff Carter. Capisce?”
All Biff could do was nod. They’d made triple the money they would have collected groundside. He knew to cut ties while the going was good. Back to Earth. TBC
“Get out, get… OUT!”
00500213
In our dream we gave you everything you want. Dance sequences. Sequences, period (think that’s how it translated from Japanese). Fame and money. Yet you throw it all away to get some privacy? We do not understand. Please explain the slapping, the red ass (translation?). Illinois?
Shelley put down the letter she received from up above. Beyond the clouds, even. Perhaps even beyond the sun and moon and stars. Pitch black up there. Bible. All Japanese. She couldn’t read to the end; too painful. Red again. Cheeks if not ass. But punishment nonetheless. Michael.
“Yess??”
00500214 (Father Fecked’s is just candy)
—–
“It really is wonderful, Baker B. Can I call you Baker? Sir?”
“Sure. *Daniel* (smile). But what do you think of (the) Bill Hicks (stuff)?”
“Nice.” Then Daniel said what was on his mind since about 1/2way through the sync called “Father Fred.” “Soo, all this castle we’re sitting in now, this Howl’s Moving Castle, is about teaching your 4 old library friends a lesson?”
“Noo,” Baker began his defense. “It’s about *communication*. Stuff we couldn’t have in real life. A *nexus*.”
“Nexus, eh?”
“Nexus,” Baker reinforced. Had to watch his temper. What was so hard to understand about all this? he thought. Frank’s Moving Castle equals Howl’s Moving Castle equals “Frank’s Moving Mtn.” when combined with Zappa’s “Billy the Mountain” rock opera. Simple as pie.
“Soo…” Daniel rubs his forehead. It had been a long day. First working in the morning, then this at noon, then back to work at the studio in the afternoon. Baker was lonely, he gathered, had no one else to watch this stuff with, except the wife and their mutual best friend Kammie, he said. Thus me — here. And the whole Zappa thing. And now: Bill Hicks. The endpoint. It was brilliant, he knew. But he couldn’t say this directly to the man pacing back and forth in front of him. Had to put on a *front*. “I think I like ‘Peewee Big’ better. You *did* ask me to be candid with you,” he said, gauging the expression forming on Baker’s always sensitive face. But all that registered was acceptance.
“Of course. ‘Peewee Big’ is the peak of it all — in a way. But each one is very different, each has its own merits, its own place in the spectrum that is the process.” Baker had to curb his tongue here. He could speak for days about this. He couldn’t place himself in Daniel’s shoes, understand that he too was trying to develop his own creativity. He was 20 years younger than Baker, though. Hadn’t had time to refine the process like his friend, his co-worker had. He was being overshadowed. And the crack about his writing the other week (!). Still pisses him off when he thinks about it. Yeah, *I’m* a creator too, just like you Baker,” he’s said to himself numerous times since then. And I can do several things as well. Writing… art. Just like *you*.
“Great. We agree.” Daniel looks around the castle’s living room. Father Fecked was here too, just like in the sync. Amazing.
“Well, I guess I better get back to Cedar Creek. Got a sculpture to finish this afternoon.” But, typical, Baker didn’t ask about any details on *that*. Hmph. Ego. Can’t see beyond his own nose, Daniel thought here. I’ll be glad to blow this place. And he can’t smoke here either, another disadvantage. Too much wood in the structure to take a chance, Baker explained to him when he asked. Must… have… cigarette, PHEH.
00500215 (diving in, or at least testing the water…)
I’m trying not to see the new all-the-rage, violence filled video game called Crimson Desert as a desert of ideas for me, and MAPS might be helping now.
6 miles apart population places called Cliff and Desert in Emery County, UT, mirroring lead character Kliff from Crimson Desert. There are no places in our US of A, populated or otherwise, that start with KLIF, reinforcing the association. Also in the surrounding area of Cliff+Desert are Book Cliffs, Desert Reservoir #3 right next to the Cliff population place, and then only several miles south of Desert another community named Sphinx, more reinforcement of the Desert aspect. Crimson Desert is becoming noted as a game chocked full of riddles and mysteries which starts off slowly but then builds story through merger of seemingly unrelated plot lines. Something is there for sure. One way to find out. Die (as Kliff) at the beginning of the game and then get reborn again out of water. (Through a) Silver band — exactly like passed between two figures under the Silver Lake we’ve seen a screenshot of not once but twice already in this here photo-novel, 50 of 50 (so far). *Must* be something to this. Mirror.
00500216
“Why does it have to be pink, Murdoc!?” shouts straw hat wearing Noodle up to her cult leader who’s also the bassist in her band. “The obelisk I mean!” She points toward it but Murdoc doesn’t see this or respond, still training his binoculars on the pool next door and its own bathing beauty of a person. Blue Moon, I mean Blue Flower… ahem, I mean *Moon Flower*, leader of her own cult as it turns out. Who has her own similarly size obelisk already painted blue, several in fact. From her angle, Noodle hasn’t seen this since it lies in the future. She’s only started her study as scholar of the cult, with the most important book still unread just beyond the tips of her pink painted toenails. “Masks.”
“Hurry up, 2-D! Why isn’t it finished already!” Murdoc barks down in the present, prying his eyes away from his target and toward another one. Pink vs. blue, then, just like with the battles of the sexes made famous in that 70’s tennis match between Billy Jean King and Bobby Riggs at the Possum Pouch Astro Dome in Arkansaw Texas. Substituting one for the other. Doesn’t have to be that way. Noodle knows.
Library eyes? Not quite yet.
Sunklands 