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  • #4035

    “Bird poo is good for your hair,” said Tina scathingly, once again reading Quentin’s thoughts. “When these little ones hatch… “ She trailed off, not feeling the need to elaborate further.

    :fleuron2:

    Meanwhile in another part of town (or possibly in another dimension … it is not clear to the writer at this point but the writer is determined to carry on regardless — the editorial staff can clean it up later), Miss Bossy Pants managed to crawl her way out of bed, just long enough to send an urgent message:

    Can’t possibly write today. One of you will need to do my contribution for the story. Thanks.

    She contemplated adding a smile emoticon but feeling such a strong urge to punch it in the face decided that it was extraneous.

    #4034

    “You’re lucky it wasn’t your hands,” said Tina. She had visited Quentin after Connie had left. Strange reporter that one. Kind of short sized with big eyes that never blinked. Tina snorted and dismissed the memory with a roll of her eyes, then looked at Quentin straight in the eyes, awaiting for his answer.

    “What do you mean ?” asked Quentin. Tina didn’t expected the answer to be a question. She rolled her eyes as if Quentin had missed the obvious.

    “The giant gouda ball, you’re lucky it didn’t roll on your hands.”

    Quentin looked at Tina with a bit of concern in his eyes. She had been acting weird lately and making odd random connections between events and comments. He looked at his friend more closely. She had a bird nest on her head. With two eggs. It was a fake nest. He certainly hoped the eggs were too. He had no idea

    “Anyway,” Tina said, “I won a trip to some island of the hidden people from the http://travellerofworlds.tp website. Wanna come with me, Quentin?”
    He thought of his options. The most obvious response would be that he had no idea what a hidden people could be. If it was hidden it could very well be that it was hiddeous and needed to be hidden. On the other hand… Quentin looked at his other hand. It was empty.

    “They say it’s on the rim of the realm,” added Tina as if she had read Quentin’s thought and need for a motive.
    Now, he thought, the rim of the realm, that sounded quite an interesting unexplored territory to discover.
    “When do we leave ? I need to ask Yannosh to pack my suitcase.”

    #4031
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Thither Perambulations

      “There is a good deal of Spain that has not been perambulated. I would have you go thither.”

      Hilda Astoria’s weekly travel column

      wanted: secretary and cleaner.

      apply within

      #4027
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        In the fashion section of Rim of the Realm, Connie “Continuity” Brown was weaving the latest reports together.
        An unsavoury trend was gaining momentum in the meat factories to increase productivity: workers were wearing nappies to save wasting time visiting the lavatory.

        The trend was spreading to banks and offices, where high heels and codpieces were required, causing a spate of unusual injuries and accidents, especially since the equality laws came into force, requiring both men and women to wear both high heels and codpieces ~ and nappies, due to the removal of time wasting unproductive lavatories worldwide.

        #4011

        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          round aunt characters matter
          talk working latest ascension run
          honey open mission perhaps
          leader close free reading window
          land cleaning times

          #4000

          “Well, that does it. I am withdrawing my resignation,” said Evangeline.
          “Too late,” replied Funley. “But you can have my cleaning job if you want. You’ll have to mind your nails.”

          #3996
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on July 01, 2010. It is being delivered from the past through FutureMe.org

            Dear FutureMe,
            The Absinthe Cafe
            Dawn and Mark had a bottle of Absinthe (the proper stuff with the WORMwood in
            it, which is illegal in France) but forgot to bring it. Wandering around at
            some point, we chanced upon a cafe called Absinthe. Sitting on the terrace, the
            waitress came up and looked right at me and said “Oh you are booked to come here
            tomorrow night!” and then said “Forget I said that”. Naturally that got our
            attention. After we left Dawn spotted a kid with 2016 on the back of his T
            shirt. We asked Arkandin about it and we have a concurrent group focus that does
            meet in that cafe in 2016, including Britta. Dawn’s name is Isabelle Spencer,
            Jib’s is Jennifer….
            The Worm & The Suitcase
            I borrowed Rachel’s big red suitcase for the trip and stuck a Time Bridgers
            sticker on it, and joked before I left about the case disappearing to 2163. I
            had an impulse to take a fig tree sapling for Eric and Jib, which did survive
            the trip although it looked a little shocked at first. As Eric was repotting
            it, we noticed a worm in the soil, and I said, Well, if the fig tree dies at
            least you have the worm.
            At Balzacs house on a bench in the garden there was a magazine lying there open
            to an ad for Spain, which said “If you lose your suitcase it would be the best
            thing because you would have to stay”.
            Later we asked Arkandin and he said that there was something from the future
            inserted into my suitcase. I went all through it wondering what it could be,
            and then a couple of days ago Eric said that it was the WORM! because of the
            WORMwood absinthe syncs, and worm hole etc. I just had a chat with Franci who
            had a big worm sync a couple of days ago, she particularly noticed a very big
            worm outside the second hand shop, and noted that she hadn’t seen a worm in ages
            ~ which is also a sync, because there was a big second hand clothes shop next to
            Dawn and Mark’s hotel that I went into looking for a bowler hat.
            Arkandin said, by the way, that Jane did forget to mention the bowler hats in
            OS7, those two guys on the balcony were indeed wearing bowler hats, and that
            they were the same guys that were in my bedroom in the dream I had prior to
            finding the Seth stuff ~ Elias and Patel.
            Eric replied:

            And another Time Bridger thing; a while ago, Jib and I had fun planting some TB stickers at random places in Paris (and some on a wooden gate at Jib’s hometown).
            Those in Paris I remember were one at the waiting room of a big tech department store, and another on the huge “Bateaux Mouches” sign on the Pont de l’Alma (bridge, the one of Lady D. where there is a gilded replica of Lady Liberty’s flame).
            I think there are pics of that on Jib’s or my flickr account somewhere.
            When we were walking past this spot, Jib suddenly remembered the TB sticker — meanwhile, the sign which was quite clean before had been written all over, and had other stickers everywhere. We wondered whether it was still here, and there it was! It’s been something like 2 years… Kind of amazing to think it’s still there, and imagine all the people that may have seen it since!
            ~~~~

            The Flights

            I wasn’t all that keen on flying and procrastinated for ages about the trip. I
            flew with EASYjet, so it was nice to see the word EASY everywhere. I got on the
            plane to find that they don’t allocate seats, and chose a seat right at the
            front on the left. The head flight attendant was extremely playful for the
            whole flight, constantly cracking up laughing and teasing the other flight
            attendants, who would poke him and make him laugh during announcements so that
            he kept having to put the phone down while he laughed. I spent the whole flight
            laughing and catching his mischeivously twinking eye.
            I asked Arkandin about him and he said his energy was superimposed. I got on
            the flight to come home and was met on the plane by the same guy! I said
            HELLO! It’s YOU again! Can I sit in the same seat and are you going to make me
            laugh again” and he actually moved the person that was in my seat and said I
            could sit there. Then he asked me about my book (about magic and Napolean). He
            also said that all his flights all week had been delayed except the two that I
            was on. He wanted to give me a card for frequent flyers but I told him I
            usually flew without planes ~ that cracked him up ;))
            ~~~

            The Dream Bean

            Eric cracked open a special big African bean that is supposed to enhance
            dreams/lucidity so we all had a bit of it. The second night I remembered a
            dream and it was a wonderful one.
            (Coincidentally, on the flight home I read a few pages of my book and it just
            happened to be about the council of five dragons and misuse of magical beans)
            In the dream I had a companion with magical powers, who I presumed was Jib but
            it was myself actually. It was a long adventure dream of being chased and
            various adventures across the countryside, but there was no stress, it was all
            great fun. Everytime things got a bit too close in the dream, I’d hold onto my
            friend with magical powers, and we would elevate above the “adventure” and drop
            down in another location out of immediate danger ~ although we were never
            outside of the adventure, so to speak. At one point I wondered why my magical
            freind didn’t just elevate us right up high and out of it completely, and
            realized that we were in the adventure game on purpose for the fun of it, so why
            would we remove ourselves completely from the adventure game.
            In the dream I remember we were heading for Holland at one point, and then the
            last part we were safely heading for Turkey…..
            The other dream snapshot was “we are all working together on roof tiles” and
            Arkandin had some interesting stuff to say about that one.
            ~~~

            There were alot of vampire imagery incidents starting with me asking Eric if he
            slept in his garden tool box at night, and then the guy who shot out of a door
            right next to Jib and Eric’s, in a bright orange T shirt, carrying a cardboard
            coffin. He stopped for me to take a photo (and Arkandin said it was a Patel pop
            in); then while walking through the outdoor food market someone was chopping a
            crate up and a perfect wooden stake flew across the floor and landed at my feet.
            The next vampire sync was a shop opposite Dawn and Mark’s hotel with 3 coffins
            in the window (I went back to take a pic of the cello actually, didn’t even
            notice the coffins). Inside the shop was an EAU DE NIL MOTOR SCOOTER Share, can
            you beleive it, and a mummy, a stuffed raven, and a row of (Tardis) Red phone
            boxes.
            I had a nightmare last night that I couldn’t find any of my (nine) dogs; the
            only ones I could find were the dead ones.
            ~~~~

            Balzac’s House

            The trip to Balzac’s house was interesting, although in somewhat unexpected
            ways. (Arkandin was Balzac and I was the cook/housekeeper) The house didn’t
            seem “right” somehow to Mark and I and we decided that was probably because
            other than the desk there was no furniture in it. Mark saw a black cat that
            nobody else saw that was an Arkandin pop in (panther essence animal), and Dawn
            felt that he was sitting on a chair, and Mark sat on him. (Arkandin said yes he
            did sit on him ;) The kitchen was being used as an office. Jib felt the house
            was too small, and picked up on a focus of his that rented the other part of the
            house. (The house was one storey high on the side we entered, and two storeys
            high from the road below). There were two pop ins there apparently, one with
            long hair which is a connection to my friend Joy who was part of that group
            focus, and I can’t recall anything about the other one. Dawn was picking up
            that Balzac wasn’t too happy, and I was remembering the part in Cousin Bette
            that infuriated me when I read it, where he goes on and on about how disgusting
            it is for servants to expect their wages when their “betters” are in dire
            straits. Arkandin confirmed that I didn’t get my wages.
            The garden was enchanting and had a couple of sphinx statues and a dead pigeon ~
            as well as the magazine with the suitcase and Spain imagery. Mark signed the
            guest book “brought the cook back” and I replied “no cooking smells this time”.

            #3995
            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              “Oh yes, big boots. Very large foot size that Finnley,” murmered Godfrey distractedly.

              “Are you listening to me, Godfrey? This is my thread and I demand that you listen to me no matter how much I prattle on incessantly about nothing of any importance. That is precisely what this thread is for.”

              But Godfrey did not reply. He sat staring gloomily into the distance. Truth was, he couldn’t get Dido out of his mind; he had wanted to be the one to rescue her from her concrete prison and he would have if it had not been for that damned Roberto. Or was it Roberta?

              But once again I fell short, he thought disconsolately.

              #3994

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                limbo sense
                late kitchen past turned latest sounded thread
                brought away master report:
                everyone pool ascension discussion
                cloud opened

                #3991

                “There was one other thing, Your Majesty…”

                “Finnley, what on earth is the matter with you?” Interrupted Liz.

                “Well, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m going to a party in another story tonight, it’s Funley’s leaving do over on the Cakltown thread. It’s a fancy dress party. The theme is Hierarchy, and I’m practicing groveling.”

                “But it’s not your night off! You can’t go!”

                But it was too late. Finnley had already thread jumped.

                She’ll never be any good at groveling, that one. Far too big for her boots, sniffed Liz.

                #3988
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  “You simply can’t imagine the shock when I realized it was my character,” Liz told Godfrey moments later.

                  #3972
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    Suddenly there was a piercing scream.

                    Finnley’s face had turned white—although later she would claim it was not fear but rather the cucumber mask giving her face a death-like appearance—and she was pointing a shaking finger in the direction of Roberto’s derrière. Or more accurately, towards where Roberto’s derrière had been prior to the scream; like the others, he had jumped up in alarm at the ear splitting noise.

                    “What the devil is the matter?” gasped LIz. She grasped Finnley’s shoulders firmly and shook her. “Pull yourself together; it’s just a bum crack. I know it is a long time since you will have seen a man’s bum, but really as I keep saying to you, if you will just smarten yourself up and make a bit more effort. I mean, look at you; you’ve got vegetables falling off your face ….” Liz shook her head in confoundment.

                    “It’s not the bum crack,” snarled Finnley, recovering her usual unflappable composure. “It is the tattoo on his bum. The tattoo of the girl with the glass feet. Do you not know what that means?”

                    Roberto’s eyes narrowed as he began to back away towards the gate.

                    In all the excitement, nobody noticed Godfrey picking up the sticky and ripped shreds of paper which Liz had let drop to the ground.

                    Or did they?

                    #3941

                    In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                    “Oh, and I almost forgot, Dispersee” Master Medlik said in a hurry, as he was running late from another meeting in the next now.

                    “You should take Master John with you, he looks far too happy in his transe work, one would think he’s trying to get his hands off the dirty work with the Descended. Some field work with you and Floverley would do him good, and you can use his knowledge of energy blending.”

                    #3920
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Liz cast her eyes over the fat ones body, weighing up the amount of latex it would take to make a mold. It would cost an arm and a leg to purchase that much latex, and Liz wondered if there was much of a market for Fat Hitherto Supportive Dealer statues.

                      #3914
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Liz patted Finnley on the shoulder. “Now, now, dear, I know it’s confusing, one moment confused, the next moment elated and bossy.”

                        #3904
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          “Godfrey will deal with them, Finnley,” replied Liz. “Please don’t bother me when I’m up to my elbows in latex.”

                          The new range of life sized Shift Leader Personalities was almost ready for the first pour. Sam had constructed an innovative vibrating table for Liz’s project, using household vibrating tools, and old tyre and a wide plank. She was truly grateful for the new apparatus to reduce the detrimental effect of individual bubbles appearing in the finished products. There was a time and place for bubbles, and concrete wasn’t one of them.

                          “They want to see you, though,” said Finnley, returning after a short consultation with the guests.

                          “Well show them in, then,” replied Liz, who had an idea brewing. “Maybe I can cast their body parts into something useful.”

                          #3901

                          In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                          Travel for the Ascended was usually as simple as intending your destination, however Floverley often found herself navigationally challenged. She usually ended up where she wanted to go, not where she was summoned.

                          Eventually though, after a pleasant stop over at an inter-dimensional art gallery to check out the latest works of a group of outsider artists—The Descended Impressionists— she managed to rally herself and align her conflicting energies by engaging in some stirring self talk and a quick visualisation of Master Medlik’s disappointed face.

                          Of course as soon as she did this, there he was, disappointed face and all.

                          Bugger, she thought. When will I learn? No bloody privacy around here.

                          ”Don’t worry, Medlik,” she said with a composed smile. “I got the call and I am on my way there right now. I will do all I can to assist.”

                          Somehow, she thought, sighing at the thought of her gargantuan task.

                          “Interpretations are tricky,” said Medlik, laughing raucously. “Somehow means, in some manner. So it’s quite definitive, though the manner in which it is done is yet to be revealed.”

                          #3894

                          In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                          Frowning, Dispersee pondered the latest impulse and hesitated before including it in her report. The imagery had shifted from pools, to bubbles, to vapourous mist rising in shafts of sunlight, which sounded dangerously akin to ascending into the light, and that would never do. There was already far too much mumbo jumbo circulating about ascension and light, and altogether too many people sitting around on gluten free arses, ignoring everything, waiting for the shifted salt free shaft of the rapture to beam them up to the higher realms.

                          No, it was no good, she couldn’t possibly share the new imagery, it would be misconstrued and counterproductive. Dispersee waited for the next strange impulse, and further clues.

                          She didn’t have to wait long: the next morning, seized by another compulsion, she slipped out of the house into the dense swirling fog. Normally a big fan of bright contrast and intense colours, the diffused monochrome scenes were somehow restful to her senses. Water droplets danced in the air like common eye floaters, gathering on her skin and hair, wetting her as effectively as a dunk in a pool, but without the sudden shock of a plunge. It was insidious, almost sneaky, the way the mist pretended to be air but was mostly water. The fog connected everything in its path with its swarms of moisture droplets, drenching everything. Dispersee wondered if her wellington boot had sprung a leak as her left sock became coldly saturated, but it was the rivulets of clinging fog dribbling down her trouser leg.

                          The bucolic scenery in shades of grey reminded her of the common phrase “it’s not black and white” which had been much bandied about of late. No, it’s not, she mused, it’s shades of reflected dispersed fluid, masquerading as spaces and solid matters. Poised to take a snapshot of a particularly large dewdrop which was reflecting an interesting twisted sapling, Dispersee blundered into the stalk of the plant, causing a furious shivering along the stems and seed pods. She watched with a feeling akin to fascinated horror as the glorious individual droplets merged into a channel of least resistance, spilling down in streams to gather in the mud.

                          #3891
                          ÉricÉric
                          Keymaster

                            Liz had taken well to her new prescription drugs.
                            In appearance, it had seemed to have drained out the inexhaustible source of inspiration that let her write novels after novels. Or maybe that was just due to the absence of Finnleys to take care of the editing.

                            In the meantime, Godfrey had worked hard to nurture her back to whatever state she called sanity and suited her best, and gently coax her to resume her former passion.

                            “Godfrey, let me retire from writing, it’s too passé.” she was pouring concrete into the silicon molds to make new saint statues. Over the years, she’d accumulated quite a few of those saints and martyrs that she collected (or stole) from derelict places of cult during her travels. She liked to paint them back to life with gaudy colours, mimicking some sort of Mexican style. Sometimes she would dress them, and ask Finnley to sew them clothes and little hats.

                            Strangely, getting her out of the hospice had made her want to populate the whole house with concrete clones of those statues. Maybe to fill a void of inspiration ?
                            Nevertheless, Godfrey was amazed at her capacity to innovate. Her writing momentum was certainly at a low, but did she channel her creativity in many ways.
                            The last batch of Christian martyr statues painted in the many outfits of David Bowie were a testament to that.

                            #3882

                            In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                            The fine-angel balanced sheet and innergy bud-jets forecasts were his least favorite part of the now. Master Medlik had learned a long now ago that when they reappeared in his presence, it only meant a resurgence of certain beliefs. Master Finn Min Hoot would say mawkishly that it had to do with his tendency to believe in and cling to control.
                            Notwithdangling, those blessed sheets had to be handed over to Tittartoness, the Lady of Tetratron who was in charge of the Heavenly Fine Angels.

                            It didn’t help that everyone seemed to be procrastinating to hand over their forecasts. Desiree seemed more interested recently in plastercasts for Old Deities, and unwittingly triggering Earth disasters, while stripping old satanic temples of their idols. At least, Master John had done a few tries, and could blame it on the extreme cosmic weather of late, and his busy jiggong schedule. As for the elusive Floverley, the peak season of energy hosting up above surely meant a lot of aura cleaning.

                            So, he was on his own, and had to just take a leap of faith. He jotted down a string of random numbers, and sent it without even looking. Ahah! he explaimed jubilantly, how’s that for going with the flow!

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