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A slight departure from the theme and storyline but I believe the next part will add a twist no one has seen coming from right in front of their face…


Topic 1

AThis is an underground gateway; It has been built through the massive side of a fallen and chopped up stone soldier. There are several below me in the valley where the smoky river meets the Sulphur river at what we call the blue bridge. I hope they wake up in time to fight, I can see them breathing; and when I get moving again; I am goi g to glory god, not look back and take a run for mason creek, where there is a nice meeting of rivers and a road and a gate: or maybe I will head into the bush by phase 5. On the same longitude as I am on. or two about an idea, topic, or service you want to share with your readers.


Topic 2 Heimdall is a gigantic stone cat, whose features show up in the suns shadows alongside a mountain just before sunset and in the morning glow of sunrise.

This is because I am living smack dab in the center of the Fields of Elysiam, better known as Valhalla; known to some as the Kingdom of Prester John, at dawn, at the gates of Dawn, at the precise midpoint between the azimuth and the zenith of the y axis 0.0.0.0 or better known as 150.15 or better yet 53’53”.5/.6-119’8”.2 latitude and longitude, with my little house having monuments at the local sewerage plant, the old sewerage lagoons, the cemetery and the landfill which also all translate into mathematically calculable positions in relation to the summer and winter solstices but more importantly to the mid points of the equinoxes. This is causing me some distress. No one else because who in their right minds creates that sort of place on the eastern slopes of the Rockies and places a little red and white bungalow over top what is probably definable as zero. I, personally consider it the 192nd spell in the third dynasties Book of the Dead, of ancient Egypt because my address is 192 or more specifically 10926…which is translating across just all sorts of mediums, and to which I am spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about as I try to define it in words that a common Bank manager might understand as indicative of the owner of the home knowing full well that he is on the crossroads of baseline 15 and government road, better known as twps 751.

A person should really learn mapping skills in their lives, I feel that being able to read the topo graphs of the contours of the land by sight, as a result of the hard learning of hard numbers to bring you to that understanding, so that you can then explain to the powers that be that being out by 0.03 arc seconds is actually the answer you are looking for when they come back with the witty rejoinder that map points are subjective to the map makers and have many idiosyncrocies in them. In my case a really scary scenario I developed into a story that is going to become a book, or get me arrested for digging up top secret nuclear weapons installation information off of…the top of my head…I am sorry if it turns out to be true…it logically made sense and ran up into my imagination and my really good memory for certain things, that showed up in documentaries on late night cable television and your more discerning conspiracy theorist radio guru who kept your night shipping job tolerable. Anyway, the nuclear missiles aside, what I am trying to calculate here in this story is my readers threshold for insanity and cut off point for ridiculous beliefs in the universe versus a good read on a weeknight while perusing your favorite conspiracy theorist as he laments the fact that he is possibly the only person alive in this reality who recognizes that he wakes up in a different version of earth each and every day, that is identical to the previous days earth only completely different in every respect, with the only anchor points in reality being economically based, and those being eroded to the point that the author faces penury and hardship as a result of these alternative realities having every possible negative outcome that could occur, occurring for many more years than the author cares to admit before slowly rebounding off of the impermeable boundary at the center of time, where the vortex swirls in a maelstrom of electromagnetic energy being compounded and compiled and piled upon by the shifting of the magnetic North Pole, to which this one has already lived in the reality where it tears the earth in half as it flips to the South Pole, just like 13,000 years ago and believe me, there was not an awful lot left floating around that time, or this time either…so we all vowed to work together and figure this out before my imagination takes us so far afield…oh wait, I crashed into the Big Bang once already and I do not not reminding that I sit at the ear of a gigantic stone god holding oblivion in place and wondering what the nattering former mortal human is going on about but quietly congratulating him for not mentioning himself as mortal because each and every lie that he tells, storyboards notwithstanding, comes back to haunt him in a proportionally proportionate incident of some sort…his latest being another in a long series of inappropriate arrests followed by hospitalizations because every time the subject comes near the police he has an anxiety attack and the police freak out and arrest him…this is both the cause and effect and affect that having anxiety in a large man can be exceedingly dangerous to that large man. As to society, not ever…so the police can just fuck right off with their abuse, or failing that, can come and take a proof of loss statement with regards to everything that has been stolen, including that which the pigs themselves keep helping the,selves to as I try to build a studio setting that is analogous with the overall temperament of having a mid forties mid life crisis and it turning out to be a bigger deal in the universe that any rational human being would encapsulate in their imaginations. But;

And it’s a big but, and doesn’t include doctors diagnosis or police harassment t or the belief that my bank sold my soul to Satan in a death mortgage, but the biggest of big buts that there is…but sanity left this little shop of ideas some time ago so we are looking for answers that are much further afield than your general peer reviewed science. Of which I had enough of recently after being beaten and forcibly injected with drugs by a group of four security guards trying to show the little girl nurse how big and strong and tough and mean they were in front of the Buddhist pacifist who has never hit a person in his life but has red hair so therefore is a crazed demon…bag. So after a night in Solitary curled up in a ball and whimpering from the missing filling in my teeth a near dislocated shoulder and only a pair of pajama pants simply because I had been informing them for the first seven days of my incarceration that I was there under false pretenses and continued with that same strain of thematic words for the next nine, through my failure to appeal the certifications and I sit here and think…every fucking thing you write gets torn to pieces by your trauma issues and your trauma issues go above and beyond the absolute nil that you have received in medical care because not one fucking doctor in seventeen years has been able to tie my trauma to my trauma issues because…and I really don’t need to stretch here…they are imbeciles who are banking entirely off of being believable and don’t really do jack shit except get every back as wards to the point of utter ludicrousness…and they keep freaking calling the cops…the damned ambulance did…because I was two big for the two paramedics coming in at around a foot and a half taller than either of them and the cops totally arrested me! Drugged me and dragged me to the freaking hospital and these people are totally out of control, and with we bring you to tonight’s episode in the Bleeding 🩸 edge survival guide website page who knows…

Sold as an NFT but I cannot verify the transaction. So if you find this and you are the owner of Jason and The Argonauts please leave a comment I would love to track my first sale down…Can you see the little alien dude at the back of the ship? I do. Big time…he is, for want of a better non binary stigmatism, an alien…I’ve named him Merlin…because I think he might just be Merlin’s ghost, or part of his maniacal meandering mindless move to mate all the curses in the world to the royal bastards of patrilineal and matrilineal lines together and bred him through manipulations, abuse, technology control and hypnotic suggestions, coupled with drugs, to create his revenge against cervalias and the ninth legion of Rome, to whom he baked into a set of rocks and made a hearth out of them.

Graphically speaking, this story is Rated R, restricted…for adult content. There is no nudity…okay maybe the stripper fire elemental, but she’s a flame and interspecies is all good amongst the denizens of the unseelie court, to whom one must pacify before ever being allowed into spend the wealth of worlds on items of such powerful and wondrous imaginations in their creations that just one drop of magic elixir and boom, everybody feels so much better at the unseelie bazaar which is where my crazed mind has been heading the whole time in this dalliance, cum laude, cum mortal hostage to the Queen of the Hunt, to whom fate always gives a seat at the head of the table when deciding the issues that arise when a white rabbitt such as myself comes into being and begins shaking the walls and realms of the universe from its very fixated position of enjoying the universe as it is, but could do with a bit more color, and life, so we will work our hardest (that’s right, even Jupiter and Saturn, you big gas balls of fires you, let’s get the old solar system up and running, lubricants all around so she can go for another spin around the galaxy before we have to get off…please mr universe, just one more go around…have you heard that one before? This is because it is a paraphrased extract from one of my short stories in which I consistently refrain from destroying the world in favor of skewing off to the side and having the hero of the story stride out of the unseelie bazaar with a weapon so powerful that the gigantic rams headed god that was looking down at me from the top of the sky at sunset tonight, and who is outside right, 200,000 feet tall and bestriding the night sky with an eight legged horse, and a gigantic Ox…my gods from my earliest days and showing me.

This is The Rade, also an NFT I can’t get my hands back around. I like the spiders in the back but my first landscape…it’s for sale somewhere on the blockchain. By Whiterabbitt
I love the pictures they draw in the sky. Well…what else can you say.

I sent a super short story into a magazine the other day that broke down like this…scientists all mocked the professor who suggested that the interstellar object that entered our solar system and then accelerated away and out was an alien construct. It was…and it carried trillions of bracewell probes loaded with nanotech and DNA. We were invaded…we lost…none of you have noticed…so they’re getting ready to go home in disgust because no one knows,except no one has peppered the internet pretty good now, and hopefully there is a paper trail, and not just annoying cats being little dickheads because I am trying to type…so the aliens are really put out that none of you have noticed them yet…and the show they have been putting on for me is the absolutely most stunning display of control and power that I can even remotely imagine a kardeshev III galaxy spanning species could put on…there is probably only like twelve of them or 26 rather plus 2 plus four elements 26F +2B+4E-Drift (0.03 Arc Seconds) /12 + 1/4/12 line weight per boundary with :In 486 AD an awful lot more than the tonsure and a slight disagreement on Easter were discussed. An awful lot more…C= C,C1a,C1b,C1c,C1C +2 /2 -2 *2 root 2 squared n=n+1/n depth, dimension, height, width, time, phase, (find your notes but they would prefer it if typed this into the permanent record, you may like to think you do not have an audience but you have the biggest audience that has ever been gathered before…we just aren’t human.

That is so my daughter feeding a dude.
Up Helly Aa

Apart from being the only one who noticed the invasion, I have also been blessed with an amazingly annoying cat who demands pets at the exact moment I am trying to type and thus throws off the energy if you know what I mean. Anyway…they have taken over all of the internet and our talking head dolls so we are pretty much screwed if they so wish it but most of them don’t. The seniors on the tour are all for eating us whole but they’re grumpy guts and not in charge of the coach so they don’t get to decide the evening entertainment

The Twins
The Horde stop by for a drink
Horde in the Snow
The Planning Commission
The Faerie Caught in Amber
The Vanguard
Can you see him. He snuck up on me like nobodies business. Could have been the end but I still had beer left so we were able to have a good time instead of the whole…collect the humans head plan which this dude looked like he was all about.
Sky and forest talk about Queen Sun Moon and the dodo head that they sent for humanity. (That’s me!)

I have tried really, really hard to put a nice friendly spin on it for humanities psyche but; these guys don’t really care, they’re all about the show and they appreciate being noticed for once at a level that somewhat has an opinion as to what is going on and they are all really fond of the singularity so you had all be better humans for his sake.